The Search for Summer

It has come to my ever perceptive attention that while I’ve been slaving away behind my desk 9 – 5, the United Kingdom has been in a state of chronic depression for it has been without one of the main ingredients of good spirit… the Sun! Not the entire UK mind, I hear bits of western Scotland are actually quite lovely at the moment. But unless all 60 million of us intend on packing up our bum bags and migrating to MacDougal Land then there is definitely a need to bring back summer to the British Isles.
Due to the nation being in crisis I have decided to undertake a series of adventures around gods green and wonderful world in search of the kind of warm, illuminating, cancer inducing light we all crave!

To make this possible and to be able to fulfil my destiny as Sun Champion of Her Majesties Empires I have been forced to resign my post with the local financial institution for whom I was previously employed. This was not an easy decision to make and not one I took lightly, but in the end I think the entrenched, dishevelled, and generally down trodden population of our ever wet country will agree that my new mission is worthy.

First on my list of places to explore in search of heat, light and lovely UV is a land where the Paella has reigned strong for centuries, cheap package holidays are a form of currency, and historically the people like to build big groups of boats and send them our way, but most importantly this place has had a recent, unconfirmed sighting of my illusive target. I must move to confirm this immediately.

After visiting Spain, my travels take me to places such as Poland, Latvia, Estonia, Lithuania, Russia, Mongolia, China, and ultimately Wales (but I don’t hold out much hope of Sun Spotting there!) So I pledge to keep all informed of my progress and lets hope that my undertaking is a success and we get a bit of Sun to enjoy instead of sitting here looking out the window at the unrelenting barrage of water heaven is intent on sending earthwards.

The Art of Queuing

It has become apparent over the past few months of entertaining the public in a service based medium that the art of queuing is fast becoming one of those lost skills that the British claim to be great and mighty at but are in fact borderline rubbish at. Like football, making cars, and drinking.

It was once considered the world’s capital of queuing finesse and revered the globe over for its ability to self-organise an efficient order of standing when patiently waiting. But the UK is quickly becoming yet another country of cajolers, pushers, whingers, and generally bad sports in the queuing environment.

Examples of this travesty over traditional values can be seen in the workplace, committed by stubborn members of the public standing at the wrong end of the queue direction pointers so as to “not have to walk all the way down, just to come back again” when they’re called over. This is an impressive bout of laziness from a nation that once marched the length of Africa simply in the name of the ruling Monarch. If asked to move to the correct end of the queuing lane, it is common practise for the offending patron to “tut” and “twitter” to a volume high enough that they believe the entire room is aware of the plight we are inflicting upon them, yet low enough that no audible verses are coherent, thus maintaining the guise of kindly aged citizens.

Further evidence of “miss-queuing” can be found when waiting for the ever controversial auto-bus carriage to transport the lingering masses back to their intended homesteads. Why is it imperative that as the vehicle approaches the gathering group simultaneously takes three steps forward? Is this the notice the driver requires to realise that the bus must stop at this, his LAST stop of the line? Or do the expectant passengers live in hope this aggressive move will help to propel them to the forefront of the collective and advance their chances of getting home before Neighbours starts?

Who knows, all I know is that this is a sorry state of affairs and between poor waiting manners and bus stop bombarding I feel less comfortable in partaking in this once grand British pastime and the art of queuing.

It's not the beginning of the end, it's the end of the beginning...

And so it begins, i always said i wouldn't start blogging until i either had something to blog about or was so unbelievably awesome and famous that people would read whatever i wrote up anyway, regardless of what the content was!

Since neither of those seem likely to happen anytime soon i figured i should make the courageous leap onto the speeding band wagon and join the millions of other people already keeping pointless online logs of just about anything and everything.

Firstly let me make you aware of my situation, just so you know what you're getting yourself into by engaging in reading this little snippet of my life. I currently work in a building society spending my days taking money out of peoples accounts (usually at their request) and periodically, if it's an exciting day, putting money back into peoples accounts. Now i know what you're thinking, and no it's not as thrilling as it sounds! You may find this hard to believe but we don't find having the same conversation with every ageing customer entertaining, and the generic "comical" responses they come up with are neither clever nor witty.

- After giving the customer the amount of money they requested, a classic comeback from these genius' of stand-up, is "Only Just".... yep, like they expect to get a free tenner for being the 63rd customer that day to ask for £150 in £10 notes.
- Or another gem being when we ask if there's anything else we can do for them after completing their transaction, and they go "not unless you've got any freebies!".... ha de bloody ha.

And you wonder why investment bankers have a high suicide rate, it's nothing to do with the pressure of working with large sums of money (i saw a £50 note the other week and i managed to not get a nose bleed!). Nope, it's the fact that these people have to listen to really wealthy "funny" people making the same one liner jokes day in, day out, every day, all day....

However, other than sitting behind a desk counting the number of paper cuts accumulated on one finger and deciding which crispy note (and that's not a Chinese dish) gives the straightest slice line, i do get out and do other things to keep myself active and in sound of mind. The other day i was totally crazy and adventurous and actually wore odd socks! But not just "odd" socks, but ones with patterns on and everything!

This is a mad world we live in.

Anyway, i best be off, I've some paint to watch dry, and depending on the outcome i might venture into the garden and peruse some grass growing!

Keep in touch and hopefully next time i write I'll have something worth writing about... but if not I've got a lovely stuffed mole i could describe to you all in minute detail.

Ta ta