I had a birthday last week.
Three separate friends bought me a box of Pop Tarts. I should take out shares in Kelloggs.
I have good friends. Amen.
Saturday 31 March 2012
Not yet, Kiddo
I'll cut to the chase - I "failed to meet requirements" - but I reckon you ought to know how it all went, after all this terrible suspense I've been leaving you with. Yeah, that.
This is a photograph of a hammock and a picnic bench. There's not really any point to this apart from to work out how to post pictures to this blog, because Flatmate, who writes this blog, told me that my blog should have more pictures. She also says I should write more about femidoms and lesbian hairstyles.
Lovely random tangent there. Woop, pictures.
So I had a day at the police station being assessed. For this I committed myself to working on a Saturday to get the Friday free to go be assessed. Show up at 8am, it said. I did, suited and conservatively made up, prepared with gym kit and emergency creme egg. The suit belongs to the aforementioned flatmate, bought in a fit of wanting smart clothes. Although we're a similar size, I found myself in a skirt that wanted to fall down and a jacket that I that could just about fasten. Still, only I knew.
Round 1. Exams. Fairly simple school stuff - passed easily. So far we've proved that I have a decent grasp of the English language, I can add up a list of numbers and read a graph and tell you what it says.
Round 2. Fitness test. We all change in silence and re-appear in shorts and trainers. Blue-floored concrete gym, green lines painted at either end and a tall skinny Geordie man who seems to like the sound of his own voice with the volume turned right up. We're split in to three groups - I get to go second. It was one of those shuttle run bleep tests that everyone dreaded in school. I quite liked them at school and two weeks ago I went for a run. Passed that bit too.
Round 3. Free lunch and awkward small talk. All in hand.
Round 4. Interview. Less good here. Half an hour of very very broad questions - "tell us all you know about x", "how would you make a difference to the police force?" Big, big unanswerable questions. Not saying I didn't try. I made the best hash at it as I could, but got the feeling I was coming across as somewhat mediocre.
Try again in six months is the official line. If they're still recruiting that is. Six months is September. I figure if I'm in town in August and I still want it then I'll try again. Last night I was out in town with my Street Pastor coat on, talking to two of the beat cops about the whole process. One of them was a Special and one was a "proper" cop. It was cold and raining and people just kept giving them hassle. This lady was something special - she was a single parent with a full time job, studying for a degree and she was out in the rain being a Police officer out of the goodness of her heart. There till 4am, but probably more like 5. Her and I wound up later on helping out a girl who was in a bit of a state. I was tired and cold and grumpy by about half 2, and ready to go home, never mind talk to numpties. There is a distinct chance that I'm just not nice enough to make it as a copper.
Which leaves me filling time and trying to work out what I want. Three part-time but equally soul-destroying jobs will make ends meet for the next two months, maybe a little longer. Time to don that Thinking Cap.
Next week I'm off for a wee holiday. I've squeezed things about a bit so I can have a few days together to go away. There's going to be a road trip, and my parents, and Flatmate and I will pray that Percy (the car) makes it all the way across the country and back again without mishap. On the way home I'll even get to spend a couple of nights back in one of my precious old caravans from last summer. That's where today's blog-picture-test photo was taken from. Good times. If I take enough jumpers and blankets I may even get to spend some quality time in that hammock once again.
This is a photograph of a hammock and a picnic bench. There's not really any point to this apart from to work out how to post pictures to this blog, because Flatmate, who writes this blog, told me that my blog should have more pictures. She also says I should write more about femidoms and lesbian hairstyles.
Lovely random tangent there. Woop, pictures.
So I had a day at the police station being assessed. For this I committed myself to working on a Saturday to get the Friday free to go be assessed. Show up at 8am, it said. I did, suited and conservatively made up, prepared with gym kit and emergency creme egg. The suit belongs to the aforementioned flatmate, bought in a fit of wanting smart clothes. Although we're a similar size, I found myself in a skirt that wanted to fall down and a jacket that I that could just about fasten. Still, only I knew.
Round 1. Exams. Fairly simple school stuff - passed easily. So far we've proved that I have a decent grasp of the English language, I can add up a list of numbers and read a graph and tell you what it says.
Round 2. Fitness test. We all change in silence and re-appear in shorts and trainers. Blue-floored concrete gym, green lines painted at either end and a tall skinny Geordie man who seems to like the sound of his own voice with the volume turned right up. We're split in to three groups - I get to go second. It was one of those shuttle run bleep tests that everyone dreaded in school. I quite liked them at school and two weeks ago I went for a run. Passed that bit too.
Round 3. Free lunch and awkward small talk. All in hand.
Round 4. Interview. Less good here. Half an hour of very very broad questions - "tell us all you know about x", "how would you make a difference to the police force?" Big, big unanswerable questions. Not saying I didn't try. I made the best hash at it as I could, but got the feeling I was coming across as somewhat mediocre.
Try again in six months is the official line. If they're still recruiting that is. Six months is September. I figure if I'm in town in August and I still want it then I'll try again. Last night I was out in town with my Street Pastor coat on, talking to two of the beat cops about the whole process. One of them was a Special and one was a "proper" cop. It was cold and raining and people just kept giving them hassle. This lady was something special - she was a single parent with a full time job, studying for a degree and she was out in the rain being a Police officer out of the goodness of her heart. There till 4am, but probably more like 5. Her and I wound up later on helping out a girl who was in a bit of a state. I was tired and cold and grumpy by about half 2, and ready to go home, never mind talk to numpties. There is a distinct chance that I'm just not nice enough to make it as a copper.
Which leaves me filling time and trying to work out what I want. Three part-time but equally soul-destroying jobs will make ends meet for the next two months, maybe a little longer. Time to don that Thinking Cap.
Next week I'm off for a wee holiday. I've squeezed things about a bit so I can have a few days together to go away. There's going to be a road trip, and my parents, and Flatmate and I will pray that Percy (the car) makes it all the way across the country and back again without mishap. On the way home I'll even get to spend a couple of nights back in one of my precious old caravans from last summer. That's where today's blog-picture-test photo was taken from. Good times. If I take enough jumpers and blankets I may even get to spend some quality time in that hammock once again.
Thursday 8 March 2012
Pop Tarts
People, people, gather round. Here be more announcements. I know, I know, how could I do this to you. Weeks of silence and now I blog like it's going out of fashion (which, as it happens, I'd never do, having little to no regard for fashion (as I hope you'll remember from my Haircut Fairydust experience about a dozen posts below this one)). I've been fixing excel formulas all afternoon, and now double brackets seem to me like a sensible way to comunicate.
Order, Kid, you have announcing to do. Yes, breathe, remember.
Lets start with what I'd like to be announcing, and then not announce it. What I'm not announcing right now is what I've been dreaming the past two, possibly three nights. I can never really tell - sometimes I dream about 4 days in one night and subsequently can't remember when I did which bit of dreaming. My imagination is wasted on my wakeful self. I keep dreaming that the couple who run the Lazy Duck Hostel and Campsite in Nethy Bridge where I spent three months of this summer living and helping out (and I'm still not on their website (humph))*, phone me up, declare that they're leaving the country to retire/run from the law/tax dodge/take over Russia (delete as you see fit), and ask me to come run the place. I get very excited, get all worried about the loneliness and then wake up. No announcements here. Move along, nothing to see.
Next up, announcements...
wait for it...
I'm so mean...
Ok then.
I'm eating Pop Tarts! Ta-Daa!
Why yes, this is the announcement. You see, I'm only allowed to eat Pop Tarts if it's been a really good day or a really bad day. Today may have been both, so I'm allowed.
Today itself was a bit crappy. I went to work (office job), felt funny, did boring stuff, didn't really know anyone and desperately tried not to keel over or fall asleep. Not amazing as far as days go. Last night is more interesting. I got a phone call. Oh yes I did. In two weeks (two weeks tomorrow to be precise) I've been invited along to a police station where I'll do the first parts of the entrance test. Woot! Now I have two weeks to determine whether or not I'm capable of running 1.5 miles comfortably in less than 14 minutes, and if I can't then make it so that I can. Frankly, I probably can, so I'll just keep dancing as much as is available to me between now and then.
And then (there's more!) if I pass the first tests - information skills and reading and numbers alongside the fitness test - then I get a free lunch. And then I get to stay and sit some more tests. Isn't that exciting.
It's mostly exciting because it means that they haven't forgotten about me and now I get to do something active about getting a few more baby steps along the application process.
The phone call was last night, but it wasn't till today that I realised I was excited about it. So I came home, made tea and pop tarts and changed in to my most oversized jeans (fresh and crunchy out of the wash) and my softest folk festival tshirt (from a folk festival I didn't even go to) and collapsed on the sofa to tell you, dear bloggies, all about it.
So there. :P
*Hey, stop with the multiple brackets, will you!
Order, Kid, you have announcing to do. Yes, breathe, remember.
Lets start with what I'd like to be announcing, and then not announce it. What I'm not announcing right now is what I've been dreaming the past two, possibly three nights. I can never really tell - sometimes I dream about 4 days in one night and subsequently can't remember when I did which bit of dreaming. My imagination is wasted on my wakeful self. I keep dreaming that the couple who run the Lazy Duck Hostel and Campsite in Nethy Bridge where I spent three months of this summer living and helping out (and I'm still not on their website (humph))*, phone me up, declare that they're leaving the country to retire/run from the law/tax dodge/take over Russia (delete as you see fit), and ask me to come run the place. I get very excited, get all worried about the loneliness and then wake up. No announcements here. Move along, nothing to see.
Next up, announcements...
wait for it...
I'm so mean...
Ok then.
I'm eating Pop Tarts! Ta-Daa!
Why yes, this is the announcement. You see, I'm only allowed to eat Pop Tarts if it's been a really good day or a really bad day. Today may have been both, so I'm allowed.
Today itself was a bit crappy. I went to work (office job), felt funny, did boring stuff, didn't really know anyone and desperately tried not to keel over or fall asleep. Not amazing as far as days go. Last night is more interesting. I got a phone call. Oh yes I did. In two weeks (two weeks tomorrow to be precise) I've been invited along to a police station where I'll do the first parts of the entrance test. Woot! Now I have two weeks to determine whether or not I'm capable of running 1.5 miles comfortably in less than 14 minutes, and if I can't then make it so that I can. Frankly, I probably can, so I'll just keep dancing as much as is available to me between now and then.
And then (there's more!) if I pass the first tests - information skills and reading and numbers alongside the fitness test - then I get a free lunch. And then I get to stay and sit some more tests. Isn't that exciting.
It's mostly exciting because it means that they haven't forgotten about me and now I get to do something active about getting a few more baby steps along the application process.
The phone call was last night, but it wasn't till today that I realised I was excited about it. So I came home, made tea and pop tarts and changed in to my most oversized jeans (fresh and crunchy out of the wash) and my softest folk festival tshirt (from a folk festival I didn't even go to) and collapsed on the sofa to tell you, dear bloggies, all about it.
So there. :P
*Hey, stop with the multiple brackets, will you!
Tuesday 6 March 2012
Next up: Three jobs, no more Folk Festival
It occurs to me I told you about my three jobs and Folk Festival life balance, but very little about what job number 3 entails.
To recap.
Job number 1: 8-20 hours shop work in town. Normally more like 12 hours but in small annoying chunks. Nice people though. Mind-numbingly-boring stuff.
Job number 2: 6 hours cleaning out of town. Lonely and usually involving a far-too-early start. Good pay.
And to announce (fanfare!) ...
Job number 3: 16-20 hours office work at the University. This is new and scary but so far I seem to be capable of it. I play with excel. I get to sit on my bum and stare at a computer and use a small, neglected "spreadsheet" corner of my brain. The people seem nice and the pay should be better than the shop job.
Total: 30-46 hours per week, depending on shifts and how nice each employer is feeling. This is probably going to involve either an early morning or a bit of weekend work each week, probably both. The pay-cheque will be the silver lining. Just need to think of something worthwhile to do with it.
Here on in, I get to concentrate my efforts on doing my job(s) well, with no Folk Festival Distraction to fuzz things up. Wish me luck!
To recap.
Job number 1: 8-20 hours shop work in town. Normally more like 12 hours but in small annoying chunks. Nice people though. Mind-numbingly-boring stuff.
Job number 2: 6 hours cleaning out of town. Lonely and usually involving a far-too-early start. Good pay.
And to announce (fanfare!) ...
Job number 3: 16-20 hours office work at the University. This is new and scary but so far I seem to be capable of it. I play with excel. I get to sit on my bum and stare at a computer and use a small, neglected "spreadsheet" corner of my brain. The people seem nice and the pay should be better than the shop job.
Total: 30-46 hours per week, depending on shifts and how nice each employer is feeling. This is probably going to involve either an early morning or a bit of weekend work each week, probably both. The pay-cheque will be the silver lining. Just need to think of something worthwhile to do with it.
Here on in, I get to concentrate my efforts on doing my job(s) well, with no Folk Festival Distraction to fuzz things up. Wish me luck!
The List
I'm addicted to lists, it's true. Does it make an addiction better if I own up to it and share my lists with you? This is my list of Things I Will Do After IVFDF. It's been sitting in my phone getting gradually longer for some time now. Here it is for your viewing pleasure. I may even be open to sensible (clean) suggestions for items to add to the list. Judgement reserved.
In no order whatsoever:
Find a gym, go swimming, build up a bit of strength.
Watch TV, occasionally go to the cinema.
Socialise! - Invite people I've missed over for dinner.
Buy myself a sushi kit from ASDA and learn to make sushi.
Do more cooking and more baking - eat more cake and less rubbish.
Spend time with my flatmates - this is allowed to involve eating rubbish, especially if it is Chinese Take-away rubbish.
Plan my dance teaching - bring on new teachers.
Practise music - join a ceilidh band. This weekend I'm expecting a new toy, which I will tell you all about when I get it.
Put myself through a First Aid at Work course (having first saved up the money for it!)
Sell t-shirts!
Converse
Chill
Read stuff
Go to the beach more often
Use my Historic Scotland membership
So there.
K x
In no order whatsoever:
Find a gym, go swimming, build up a bit of strength.
Watch TV, occasionally go to the cinema.
Socialise! - Invite people I've missed over for dinner.
Buy myself a sushi kit from ASDA and learn to make sushi.
Do more cooking and more baking - eat more cake and less rubbish.
Spend time with my flatmates - this is allowed to involve eating rubbish, especially if it is Chinese Take-away rubbish.
Plan my dance teaching - bring on new teachers.
Practise music - join a ceilidh band. This weekend I'm expecting a new toy, which I will tell you all about when I get it.
Put myself through a First Aid at Work course (having first saved up the money for it!)
Sell t-shirts!
Converse
Chill
Read stuff
Go to the beach more often
Use my Historic Scotland membership
So there.
K x
IVFDF's over: The Return to Real Life
Hi Folks,
The next couple of blog posts are going to be catching up with myself after this past weekend.
For those of you who weren't there (and you should have been) or are unaware of this phenomenon, this past weekend was the 61st Inter-Varsity Folk Dance Festival, hosted for the first time in Aberdeen by myself and the rest of the amazing committee. Three days of lots and lots of folk dance and music. Early mornings, late nights and a very large amount of organisation and stress. Well, I was stressed at any rate. A more balanced, experienced organiser may have taken it entirely in their stride.
Anyway, it's been a long time in the organising, and for the past 6 months or so, more and more parts of my life have been put on hold "till after IVFDF".
And we did it. We pulled it off. Lots of people. They seemed to be happy most of the time and only a small number of people moaned about small pointless things. I imagine there will be criticisms out there but I also figure a lot of them won't make it all the way back to me - they're a polite bunch, and I'm unlikely to do it again ever again, most definitely not in the next decade.
It's over. I'm still remembering small snippets of it as I begin to reflect. Some things happened so fast and so frantically that I'm not sure how much detail I'll have remembered. Either way. I'll come up with my own verdict of it yet. Just not right now.
Today I went back to work (one of my "work"s) after yesterday off. I've now got a few spare minutes before I go back to my Church Housegroup after many weeks' IVFDF-related truancy to hope they'll still remember who I am. I'm blogging. and it's great. The passing of the One Huge Thing I've been hard at work on for so long has given me back a fair amount of my own time and energy. Now I just want to use it wisely. I'll maybe even tell you about it.
The next couple of blog posts are going to be catching up with myself after this past weekend.
For those of you who weren't there (and you should have been) or are unaware of this phenomenon, this past weekend was the 61st Inter-Varsity Folk Dance Festival, hosted for the first time in Aberdeen by myself and the rest of the amazing committee. Three days of lots and lots of folk dance and music. Early mornings, late nights and a very large amount of organisation and stress. Well, I was stressed at any rate. A more balanced, experienced organiser may have taken it entirely in their stride.
Anyway, it's been a long time in the organising, and for the past 6 months or so, more and more parts of my life have been put on hold "till after IVFDF".
And we did it. We pulled it off. Lots of people. They seemed to be happy most of the time and only a small number of people moaned about small pointless things. I imagine there will be criticisms out there but I also figure a lot of them won't make it all the way back to me - they're a polite bunch, and I'm unlikely to do it again ever again, most definitely not in the next decade.
It's over. I'm still remembering small snippets of it as I begin to reflect. Some things happened so fast and so frantically that I'm not sure how much detail I'll have remembered. Either way. I'll come up with my own verdict of it yet. Just not right now.
Today I went back to work (one of my "work"s) after yesterday off. I've now got a few spare minutes before I go back to my Church Housegroup after many weeks' IVFDF-related truancy to hope they'll still remember who I am. I'm blogging. and it's great. The passing of the One Huge Thing I've been hard at work on for so long has given me back a fair amount of my own time and energy. Now I just want to use it wisely. I'll maybe even tell you about it.
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