It won't change me... much...

With mind-boggling lottery wins in the news recently, it made me think about how my life would change if I did win the jackpot (or even half the jackpot - I'm not greedy!). And, as so often happens(!), I was inspired to put my thoughts into something resembling a poem, but without the pesky contraints of rhyme...

If I win the lottery, I'll still have a messy house
Because it's not a lack of money that makes me untidy.

If I win the lottery, I'll still have an empty fridge
Because it's not poverty that makes me hate going to Tescos.

If I win the lottery, I'll still waste loads of time

Because it's not being skint that makes me prone to
procrastination.

If I win the lottery, I'll still be overweight
Because it's not a shortage of funds that makes me eat chocolate.

If I win the lottery, I'll still have bad hair days
Because it's not being poor that makes my hair so thick and curly.

If I win the lottery, I'll still be the same person,
But in a bigger house.

Now, I'd better go and buy my ticket, because I'd like a bigger house...

C'est la vie

I'll warn you first off that this is a rant. A blog
rant. A blant.

I've never given too much thought about so-called scroungers and benefit cheats, I just know that I want to do the best I can to pay my own way, but that I've been a taxpayer since I was 17 and so I'm entitled to some help if I need it. My prolonged period of 'unemployment' has, however, given me a new perspective. I now believe that scroungers and benefit cheats must be the cleverest people in the world - how they manage to get money to live on from such a complex and obstructive system has to be a work of genius.

Here's the thing: I'm currently working 15 hours per week. I'm still classed as a jobseeker, because you have to be working over 16 hours per week to be classed as having a job. I'm paid more than the benefits I'd receive, so I don't receive any (though my income is still low, so I qualify for help with Council Tax, and Thomas gets free school meals. Well, free school meals as long as he only wants something that costs £1.85 or less, but I'm not quibbling with that...). Every 2 weeks I go to sign on at the Job Centre (or, to be correct, Job Centre Plus. I don't think this is like a deluxe Job Centre or anything - I think they're all called that. I expect there was some expensive 'rebranding' a few years ago...). Now, even though I don't get benefit, I still sign on because it means my National Insurance is covered so I - in theory - won't have to worry if I'm unable to work in the future through ill health or disability. Though, as I'm self-employed, I pay some National Insurance to cover my pension, so part of it is being paid twice. Oh, and if I do go back to work (i.e. work one more hour per week) I get a Job Grant to help pay for my power suits, or something. (Incidentally, this used to be called the Back to Work Bonus, but it also got rebranded, apparently, some time during the last 6 months...) And I nearly forgot, I can also get half-price train travel. Which is nice. But I haven't claimed that because I don't need it, even though you don't have to need it to claim it.

So, anyhoo. Last week I took the half term off and Thomas and I went to France, to visit friends. As luck would have it, the trip coincided with a sign on day, so I had to tell them I couldn't sign on because I'd be away. (This has happened before when I went on holiday last year but, as I was staying in the country and was still looking for work while I was away I could just be excused from signing. The was not mine by the way, but the Job Centre Plus lady's.) This time round, because I was leaving the country, I had to sign off. I filled in a form to tell them I was only signing off because I was out of the country for a week, but apparently that doesn't filter through. The first working day I was back I had to sign on again - something called a 'rapid reclaim' - hah!

So, since I've been back I've had 5 separate (first class) letters from the Department of Work and Pensions relating to the fact that I've signed off, including a P45.

I've had to have a 15-minute telephone interview about the reason I'm signing on again and to check whether any of my circumstances have changed.

I've had to have a 45 minute interview at the Job Centre Plus to go over the same information from the telephone interview and to reschedule my fortnightly signing on. We also re-visited my 'Jobseeker Agreement' that I have to adhere to so that I qualify for Jobseeker benefit that I don't get because I'm earning. This, incidentally, is a Jobseeker Agreement that had been updated in another interview I'd had the week before I went away.

Now today I have received a letter from the council that my Council Tax benefit has been suspended because they have reason to believe I shouldn't be getting it. Presumably (and hopefully) this is because it's filtered through to them that I'd signed off and it hasn't yet filtered through that I'd signed on again. I admit that it didn't occur to me to phone the council and tell them my travel plans...

I totally understand that measures are needed to prevent cheating, but this seems so extreme. After all, I told them when I'd be away and I could have just gone and signed on again as soon as I was back. The week I was away would rightly not have qualified for Jobseeker benefit - but I don't get any anyway! And, my understanding is that if you go on holiday in the UK, you can have up to two weeks a year when you don't have to be actively jobseeking, i.e. a holiday! Considering I had milk in my fridge from before I went away that was still in date, it seems that the amount of paper, postage and time that has been used up is totally disproportionate.

However, I will look at it from the perspective that I am creating employment whilst still not getting benefit and paying tax and NI. I should go on holiday more often...

Blant over. End of blant. Thank you.

Yesterday, my first post seemed so far away...

The big four?Oh!

I've just realised that yesterday was my fourth bloggiversary.

Four years: one hundred and sixty four posts. That's an average of fourty a year; three point four a month; one and a half a fourtnight. That's not so bad four a lackadaisical blogger like me!

Here are four not-quite-randomly selected posts to mark the milestone:-

Insert witty pun... - this makes me happy because I'd forgotten it had happened!

On reflection - to mark my 6-month bloggiversary I made a couple of lists. I'm amused to see that the 'things I want to do in the next 6 months' list could have been written yesterday.

On reflection - same title, very different post. When Thomas first struck out on his own - it's more than 2 years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday.

End of an EAra - "take a few months off"... 19 months later...

In four years' time, I will be fourty-four, Thomas will be
17 (eek!) and that's about all I'm willing to fourcast.

Good hair day

I think it's fair to say that I don't blog very often because most of the time, when I think of something to write, I'm complaining or being cynical. Much as I enjoy a good moan, in my heart I'm an 'if-you-can't-say-something-nice,-say-nothing' sort of person. I genuinely believe in the power of positive thinking, even though it's not always my first instinct.

But today, saying something nice and thinking positively are no trouble. Today is one of those days when all's right in my world, even the stuff that's wrong.

It would be great to know why some days are like this, but who knows? The weather helps - today is a bright, sunny, not-a-cloud-in-the-sky, nearly-autumn day. But so was yesterday, and I didn't feel like this. It's Friday, of course, but it's Friday this time every week...

The day started as normal - my alarm went off at 7am and I 'snoozed' it 3 times, so I got up at 7:27. (I have no idea why a 'snooze' is 9 minutes, but it is!) Thomas has his alarm set for 7:30, so this means I get to wake him up just before his alarm every morning. This gives him the impression that he gets a sneaky lie-in between me waking him and him getting up when his alarm goes off. I don't think he's realised that it's only 2 minutes...

I'd worked a couple of extra hours during the week, so I decided that I'd have a shorter day today and treat myself to lunch at the Wimpy. I even remembered to take my book with me so I didn't have to resort to buying Heat magazine (which is full of 'celebrities' I've never heard of and makes me feel about 100!).

My journey into work didn't start well when someone pulled out in front of me on the roundabout, then failed to pull away. I had to slam on my brakes, which would normally have left me cross and muttering. However, the driver sheepishly waved his hand in a 'sorry' and, when I pulled up next to him at the traffic lights, I turned and smiled and he let me go first. Rainy Days and Mondays was playing on the radio at the time - it being neither, I was free to happily sing along without getting 'down', and anyway, you try being grumpy to the sound of The Carpenters! (Except possibly Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft...)

I was on my own in the office today and had a really productive morning. I had all the windows open and the radio turned up, and every song that was played was summery and upbeat. I even managed not to forget to drink my tea, which I usually do at least once a day!

I almost managed to leave work when I'd intended, and was good and properly hungry when I got to the Wimpy. Lovely Wimpy man (not his real name...) knew my order (I only go in there once or twice a month at most - honest - but he always remembers!) and my cup of coffee and glass of water was on my table even before I found my place in my book. My book was absorbing, my food was delicious and when I'd finished eating he brought me another cup of coffee - on the house! To cap it all, they were playing The Beach Boys - more can't-fail-to-make-you-feel-good music.

Even Tesco couldn't spoil my great mood: I bought some new (drinking) glasses which were a huge bargain; I remembered to buy something trivial that I'd been forgetting to buy for about two months; I got the last two packs of yummy spare ribs; the checkout lady was friendly and chatty.

So now I'm home to an empty house. Thomas has gone fishing, apparently. That's what his note said, anyway. I'm assuming that he's actually gone fishing, rather than leaving me mildly profound notes... Such is my mood that I'm picturing him Huckleberry Finn-like, bare-footed and straw-hatted. Anyone who knows Thomas will appreciate how far removed from reality this picture is - he's more 'EMO' than 'Huck' - but I'm choosing to think of him enjoying the carefree childhood that I'd wish for him, rather than dwelling on the fact that I don't quite know where he is, and he can't really swim...

So, that's my day. I have my iTunes 'Happy' playlist on random. I am untroubled by the tidying, cleaning and decorating that need doing. I may take advantage of the remaining sunshine and sit outside with my book for a while.

I'll leave you with these wise words from the great Hanson: "Mmm bop, ba duba dop, ba duba dop, ba duba dop, ba duba dop, ba duba dop, ba du." I think we can all relate to that...

How would you do...?

Devon, Denbies and Dinosaurs

What I Did On My Holidays

by

Joanne Moore (aged 40¼)

Devon

On my holidays this year I went away to Devon with my Dad and Thomas. We stayed in a cottage in Lynmouth, on the north coast of the county. Lynmouth is a pretty village that hit the headlines in August 1952 when a flash flood destroyed many of the buildings and claimed 34 lives. Rebuilt now, of course, it is a busy tourist spot during the day, but is peaceful in the evenings when the day trippers disappear.

Our cottage was on the bank of the West Lyn river - it's hard to imagine now that a hydro-electric power station used to stand between the cottage and the river's edge...

Our cottage was the middle of the three tall cottages, just above the bridge, in the centre of the picture.

We had good weather for most of the week (just a couple of days of rain). The views from Lynmouth harbour are stunning.

Out of shot, to the left, is Wales...

Lynmouth is linked to its clifftop sister village, Lynton, by a Victorian water-powered cliff railway - way ahead of its time with its green credentials!

The Lynton and Lynmouth Cliff Railway


Obligatory pretty sunset picture...


Lynmouth by night

Lynton can also be reached via a zig-zag path up the cliff. I decided to take the train up and walk down. However, there was a huge queue for the train and I thought "How hard can it be?". It was very hard. One steep zig-zag after another! I almost made it to the top, but when I was presented with a 'down' fork I had to take it, convincing myself that a circular route made much more sense than just getting to the top and coming back again. I stopped frequently to take pictures - it was so pretty (and I was so exhausted!). I rewarded myself back at the bottom with a proper Devon cream tea - I deserved it!

It's steeper than it looks - honest!

The just-too-tempting 'down' option.

On one of the rainy days we wandered over to Glen Lyn Gorge, and took a walk up the river. My parents visited here on their honeymoon, 46 years ago (practically to the day).

Thomas (reluctantly) and Dad. We have pictures of Mum and Dad in this very spot in 1963!

Just to maintain the illusion of an active holiday (it wasn't...), we spent our last afternoon on the village putting green.

Denbies

We decided to have a day trip out to see the Lego house being built by James May at Denbies Vineyard near Dorking. It turned out to be quite a way away, and Thomas wasn't up for the trek, so we took the tour and just enjoyed the views.

Overlooking part of the vineyard to Dorking

The Lego house, under construction

Dinosaurs

On bank holiday Monday we had tickets to see the Walking With Dinosaurs arena show at Wembley. It was the first time I'd come close to the new stadium...

I thought the show was fun. The dinosaurs were big and as realistic as you could hope for, though the over-dramatic music was a bit much. It's hard to judge the scale of these things when you're in an arena, but there was a (real) man on stage for the whole show, so you could tell just how big and impressive the dinosaurs were. I, unlike most other people, followed the instructions for 'no flash photography', so my pictures aren't great, but they give you an idea...

Stegosaurus (probably). The 'rocks' in the middle are about twice the height of a man, to give you an idea of scale...

The Tyrannosaurus Rex was the finale (naturally). The 'mechanics' that made them walk, crudely disguised as rocks, were soon forgotten because the rest of the movements were so well done. See the teeny tiny man? Out of shot is a 'baby' T-Rex, which provided a comedy element that was possibly not quite historically accurate...

So, that was what I did on my holidays. (I'm not mentioning the flu...)

I'm not going to whine about flu

I've had flu this week. Proper flu. It started as a bad cold. I wasn't going to call it flu. My sinuses were blocked and I felt rubbish, but it was just a cold, and it didn't stop me going to see Walking With Dinosaurs on Monday at Wembley Arena.

And by the time I got home I was feeling grotty (like you do with a stinking cold), but it was just a bad cold and I went to bed a little bit earlier than normal...

...and I had a terrible night. Headache, pain, sore throat, cough, misery. I couldn't get out of bed in the morning, but I still wasn't calling it flu. Oh no. I slept all day and had a high temperature. My eyes hurt, my head hurt, my knees, elbows and toes hurt. OK, I gave in. It was flu. I stayed in bed. I drank plenty of water and took ibuprofen when I couldn't bear the pain any longer. I read a lot. I slept a lot. Mum and Dad brought milk and took Thomas.

But I'm not whining...

By yesterday afternoon I was out of bed, on the sofa and watching TV nonsense. Still 'glowing' and wobbly, with a cough that would usually take a 20-a-day habit to develop, but finally starting to feel better.

So I thought I'd visit the NHS National Pan(ic)demic Flu Service website and see what my symptoms indicated. Could I register myself as an official Swine Flu statistic?

Firstly they check that you're not about to expire. Floppy and unresponsive? No. Having a fit? No. Going blue? No.

All good... So now a quick meningitis check. No rash, no stiff neck. Good.

Am I pregnant? No. Am I undergoing treatment for renal failure? No. Good.

So now we can check that I have flu. If you're interested, you have to have a high temperature. No high temperature, no flu. Then there's a list of your standard symptoms. You have to have at least two of those (plus your high temperature, of course...). Headache, blocked or runny nose, aching muscles, sore throat, etc. (So far I'm passing this test with flying colours - I've got nearly all the symptoms...) OK, so I give them my name and address and then get another list of symptoms. (I should warn you that I'm going to mention phlegm...)

Sharp or stabbing chest pains? Glad I haven't got them. Difficulty breathing so that I am unable to finish a sentence? Well, I'm slightly wheezy and breathless when I move, but I am managing to hold a conversation. Uncharacteristic changes in behaviour such as drowsiness, new confusion or signs of terror? Well, I'm tired but not drowsy, confused by what day it is but that's nothing new for a bank holiday week, and I wince slightly every time I see the state of the kitchen. (So far these symptoms seem like something I'd worry about and I'm glad I don't have them.) Next: thick yellow, green, brown or bloody phlegm. Right, well, my head and lungs are full of the stuff and I confess I looked and saw that it was slightly greenish yellow. You know, just like when you have a cold. So there's just one box to cover a yes or no for any of these symptoms. And I have one of them, so I check 'yes'.

And I'm told to call my GP immediately and send my flu friend to collect my Tamiflu from the nearest collection centre using my authorisation code. OK... Well, I don't really want to bother my GP with my phlegm so I decide to try again, not mentioning my phlegm. But now I've navigated away from the page with my Tamiflu authorisation code (which I didn't write down) and I can't get it back, except possibly by phoning someone, which I don't want to do because I'm not ill enough to tie up someone's time when there might be someone who really needs help. Fortunately I'm starting to feel better and I don't want to risk the side effects of Tamiflu, plus I've stayed at home and have no reason to leave until I'm feeling better.

So I've decided not to act on the advice of the National Pan(ic)demic Flu service. Am I wrong? I get irritated by people who ignore advice and then complain about the consequences, but that's when they're also ignoring common sense (going to busy doctors' surgeries when they've got flu, or calling ambulances).

Anyway, I'm a bit disappointed that I didn't get a definitive Swine Flu diagnosis - I was hoping for at least a certificate...

Mixed bag

There are times when I really want to write something. Anything. But inspiration won't strike and whatever pops in to my head is just too mundane (which is what Twitter is for...). Now is just one of those times. I'm sitting here at my computer, fingers poised over the keys, just willing a fascinating subject to emerge from the dusty, cobwebby corners of my mind. Nuffink! So, you will have to indulge me while I waffle aimlessly about one or two things that passed through my brain in lieu of a fascinating post...

Musical reunion
Every now and then it's great to hear a song that you haven't heard for years. A song that you always liked but had completely forgotten about. Last week, for me, it was The Devil Went Down To Georgia by The Charlie Daniels Band. How could you not love it? It's possibly been at least a decade since I last heard it, but it was on the radio as I drove to work last week and I knew that I'd have to download it as soon as I could. I've now listend to it over and over. I'm listening to it right now. It makes me want to take up the violin again (in fact, if playing the violin at school had been anything like that, I'd never have given it up!). For some reason it led me to listen to Ode To Billy Joe by Bobby Gentry. I'm a whisker away from Islands In The Stream and Blanket On The Ground. Just one C&W evening can't hurt, can it? I can give it up anytime...

Working gURL
I've bought my .co.uk web address. jcmoore. Don't bother looking - I haven't done anything with it yet. I've been pondering doing something freelance-ish. Word processing, Powerpoint and whatnot. But I've no idea where to start. I need to dedicate some proper thinking time to the idea. I still really want to make a go of the jewellery business, but something keeps stopping me, whether it's my lack of sales/marketing confidence, or doubts about some aspects of the quality of what I'm making. Unfortunately, the pleasure of the 'hobby' has diminished somewhat because I'm feeling that I ought to be making a go of the business side. I need to get over that, and recapture the enjoyment that made me so excited about the whole thing in the first place. As a first step, I'm going to have a fun 'making' day tomorrow...

Speaking of making
I've got some lovely knitting on the go. A few weeks ago, the most important thing in the world to me was to get a blanket for my bed. I've done away with my duvet and have gone all retro with sheets and blankets. Except I don't have any blankets. I only have synthetic fleeces, which aren't warm enough on chilly nights. I looked in shops for old-fashioned wool blankets, but I couldn't find any - only designer 'throws' and suchlike. Of course, the internet has blankets, but they cost a fortune. So I got out my big needles and bought some super chunky wool and if I try very hard I may have a warm snuggly blanket for my bed at about the time the Winter Olympics are held in Russia...

Essay, essay, essay
I've nearly finished my OU Psychology Openings course. I've just got my final essay to write. It's been OK. It also confirmed my suspicion that studying is not really my bag and anything more intensive than an Openings course won't suit me at all. I've been able to completely neglect it for weeks and then catch up with an hour's reading. (In fact, someone asked me about it the other day, and I actually forgot I was doing it!) I know I won't be able to do that with a 'proper' course, and I also know that I will neglect it. This has been just right for me and I may well do another - I'm thinking maths - but the student life is definitely not for me.

Pillow talk
I was going to tell you all about my wonderful new pillows. But I can't bring myself to. Next thing I'll be blogging my shopping list! Suffice to say, they're amazingly gorgeous, considering they don't contain one single feather. In fact, they're so gorgeous that writing this is making me want to go to bed. It's probably making you want to go to bed too, so I'll detain you no further and let you go about your business, whatever it might be...