depend (verb) 1. Be controlled or determined by. 2. Rely on.
Also the brand name of incontinence pads, but I digress.
Today I text Ben asking him whether he can help me with the groceries because my back is still seized up (the right side of my neck feels like it’s been injected with sand). I don’t have a car, since Ben crashed it a few years ago, so I bring the groceries back by bus (it’s almost a door to door service, so not really that bad – and certainly better for the environment, not to mention my finances). Continue reading
The Guardian is on a roll. For my American readers, I’m talking about the newspaper. You know, the one that broke the Edward Snowden case. Yes, that newspaper. It’s my trusted source of information (even as I’ve learned to distrust most so-called sources of information including, on occasion, the Guardian itself). Continue reading
As joblessness and interviews/interrogations approach, and family life takes a turn for the tense, I offer here the equivalent of hiding under the duvet. I’m not here…. this isn’t happening. (I could add the lalalala-with-hands-over-the-ears bit, but you get the gist).
copyright: Born to Lose
The law of averages suggests that just as the sun gets swallowed by clouds as soon as I don my shades, every good day must be followed by a pair of shitty ones. This, I realise, is to stop me from getting too comfortable. Continue reading
Most of you will be aware that I’m heading for the chop at work. The next eight weeks or so will be fraught, with some of my colleagues deciding to leave our organisation (after giving the better part of their working lives to it), and others choosing to stay put because they can’t afford not to. Continue reading
Warhol’s infamous soup screenprint
A humble slice of time, yet sometimes, 15 minutes is all it takes. Warhol infamously suggested that everyone would have their moment one day, and that moment would last for 15 minutes. No more, no less.
Relationships are kindled, deals struck, meals quaffed, bodies toned, orgasms achieved, minds re-charged, journeys ended, posts written – all within a mere 900 seconds. And every 15 minutes, we are told, someone is killed by a drunk driver.
My 15 minutes came today. Continue reading
The scene following a boiler explosion. source: hse.gov.uk
Ben comes round at noon to let the boiler man in. Rosie and I have been bathing with pots of boiling water for the last few days, since the tap hasn’t been offering up anything other than cold. I am therefore grateful that Ben has agreed to be at the flat given I am in meetings most of the day.
My work situation is deteriorating dramatically, with termination approaching and more and more of my long-time colleagues deciding to take voluntary redundancy rather than hang in and be re-deployed. I have my own pressing decisions to make, with my gut flipping first left and then right, as I try to steer towards the best option for Rosie and me. I leave the office with a storming head ache. Continue reading