Ungiving to charity

In which I am a rebel without a cause to support.

Being charitable doesn’t come naturally, I get riled up every time I step onto Birmingham’s main street and prepare myself to run the gamut of chuggers waiting to accost the unaware shoppers. It’s like the Pamplona bull run but running at the herd instead of away from the clipboarding hoard.

If I was to be in a position where I didn’t have to work and I could turn myself into a much less rich Bill and Melinda Gates I’m not sure who I could help. As well as dealing with the workers of Charity Militant I also struggle with who I should choose to help.

It’s very mean of charities to ask you to decide between who is the most worthwhile cause. Pick between this sad child and this sad puppy, our cancer is worse than their cancer, which human rights abuse angers you most.

I have finite resources to be able to help those in need, I am not rich enough to donate to all and there is not enough time to lend a hand.

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Becoming an art critic

I which I try to convince you about art.

Art puzzles me.

Perhaps because I have a more scientific look on life I can’t get past a cigar just being a cigar.

The meaning of art is something I struggle with. If the artist has placed meaning in their work I can understand and follow that, but it is the hidden or interpreted meaning that I cannot grasp. If not explicitly stated does the esoteric story of a painting really exist, or do experts place their own thoughts onto art?

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Lunchtime Review : Beige Food

In which I avoid anything green.

The Menu.

Ingredients: Lots of brown.

Preparation: Open the box of brown.

Cost: A lot of brown later on.

Amuse-bouche

Seriously…what? 8 cocktail sausages, 4 pork and tomato bites, 4 sausage rolls and 4 mini scotch eggs.

Colour plays an important role in food, it indicates what kind of experience or benefit you get from the item you are about to put in your mouth. It’s why chefs spend so much time fussing over how a dish looks as if it appears tasty then it probably is. The Duck Rule and everything.

There is one colour to rule them all, a colour that is quite honest about what you are going to get. Beige.
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Having an office cold – Part II

In which I manfuly spread my disease.

I love this song by The Cranberries.

What I don’t love is the office cold, which is just lingering like some feral youth on the street. Being all up to no good and just generally causing nuisance.

Even when I think it’s gone it makes more comebacks than Michael Jordan. Not the highly successful Bulls kind of comeback, this is the Wizards multiplied by his attempt at baseball style comeback. Continue reading “Having an office cold – Part II”

You give me road rage

In which I’m racing to the best days.

When you are faced by the madness caused by crazy people you have two options, you can put up with the madness and let it slide or try to do something about it. For the most part I am of the former camp. I find it much easier to roll my eyes and be like a queen with power over ice.

I have to internalise this pent up rage on a daily basis whilst driving to work, if I didn’t it would eat me up and lead me to going a little bit Falling Down. I even have the glasses.
A poster depicting an older man standing on a concrete platform, wearing a business outfit, holding a briefcase and a shotgun. Above in black letters it reads: "Michael Douglas". Below in large white letters over a red background it reads: "Falling Down". Beneath that with the film credits, it reads in small white letters: "A Joel Schumacher Film". In the background are skyscrapers and a smog filled sky.
Still it does get to me, sitting in the car paying for the privilege of going nowhere as the dead dino-juice gases emit from the metal boxes around me. There are a number of wrongs that I would love to right.
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The normalcy of life

In which my life is a series of fortunate events.

There have been times in my life where it has felt completely crazy. I’ve only just started to experience the feeling of a settled life after almost five years of upheaval and constant change. I look around and this period of calm feels almost surreal.

Instead of reacting to anything that life can throw at me I’m starting to plan, the short-termism of the last few years being replaced by a long-term view of what I want to do, or be. I have felt like my life has been in one long sideways skid for so long that now I have straightened it out and got control back I am ready to put my foot on the accelerator again.

That feels odd.

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Calm before the house moving storm

In which I put up a ‘For Sale’ sign.

A lot has happened in the last few years; getting married, having two kids, numerous job changes, as well as two house moves. So now that life is starting to recover from the last major event (the arrival of A-Rex) I have that nervous tic that makes me want to stir things up.

So I’m moving house again.

After getting some normalcy with a sleeping baby it is time to get stressed over deposits, and mortgages, and packing, and movers, and new furniture, and soft furnishing colour choices. Life is about to get choppy and we are in the eye of the storm as we stare at the approaching clouds

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The path to London doesn’t glitter

In which I refuse to turn around at the sound of the bells.

I come from a town of small proportions so I am used to urban areas of a certain size. I like how compact everything is, and particularly the low volume of human beings that never seem to get in my way or are just ‘there’.

So when I have to travel to any city I’m full of dread, there are very few I can tolerate (San Francisco and New York) but one sprawling mass is at the bottom of my list,I keep getting made to go by work, and for anyone who has read the title of this post it will not come as a surprise…

London.

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Fantasy dinner party

In which I will be serving up scallops with a hint of pop culture.

Most of my dinner parties are fictional, I’m really struggling to remember a real-life one I’ve either attended or hosted. I’m not sure what this says about myself, perhaps I am on a list of wanted dinner guests…least wanted. So without a real one to get a bottle of wine for, I may as well host one for a bunch of imaginary diners.

Invites have been accepted and dinner is ready to be served, so please allow me to introduce my guests (if you can’t guess already):

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Fear itself

In which there is only the heat death of the universe to worry about.

There are two great fears I have. Everyone should be scared of something big, the kind of worry that threatens to change your life if it came true or you had to face it. Before I tell you what they are consider this quote.aa

So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes. Franklin D. Roosevelt.

This quote is from one of the great leaders of the 20th century but it is a lie. It’s a great big whopping cake of a fib. There’s plenty of things to be scared of. I’m not including spiders or heights in this, they can easily dealt with by a rolled up magazine or not climbing a mountain. Plus they are perfectly understandable, spiders can be poisonous and falling from a few hundred feet is not conducive to having a good day. Yet these aren’t fears. They are worries.
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