Well obviously someone somewhere was trying to tell me something about my template being shite. Because even when I pasted back in a saved version that was previously fine, it still displayed the mangled wreck you have all been looking at since Tuesday.

So I've changed it. And now it all seems fine. Isn't it nice and girly? It looks like the pattern of a t-shirt that should be sold in Oasis or Warehouse for £40.

I pasted over the "links" section from my old template, which looks a bit mottley and not really in keeping with the general pastel-loveliness of the rest if it, but I'm too lazy to try and work out how to change it.

I went to a party yesterday evening back at my old place of employ. I walked in and saw all of their lovely, lovely familiar faces and almost burst into tears.

I am sick of being new!

In fact, once I'd had a few gin and tonics, I did burst into tears. Over the fact that I missed the last vegetable kebab. R gave me half of his, and it wasn't even very nice. In fact, it was positively unpleasant because no-one had turned it over on the barbecue. But I still cried about it. Which filled me with self-disgust, which made me cry some more... Oh bother.

So I felt a bit stinking and rotten and like I wanted to pull down the shutters on my life and go to sleep for ages, and wake up and be able to cope with whatever life chucks at me. Nuts - why can't it be that easy?

But fortunately there was a bouncy castle on hand to cheer me up. (How improbable.) Wow! I haven't been on one of those since I was about 10. It was bloody excellent. Today I'm covered in bruises and I've got a grazed knee but it was worth it. As soon as I can afford to live in a house with a garden I'm hiring one!

Gaaaah. What the fuck is wrong with my blog?

New job is great but I am ABSOLUTELY KNACKERED. Being new is very tiring. All that smiling at everyone, being on my best behaviour, trying to persuade them I'm a functioning human being and not a complete mentalist really takes it out of me.  And I haven't even done any proper work yet.

About 2 years ago, I decided I'd had enough of:
 

• Waking up feeling tired even though I'd slept 10 hours
• Waking up dreading the day ahead
• Going to the newsagents (espec. on a saturday) and buying a huge pile of newspapers to read in case I got bored later in the day, then never being able to concentrate long enough to read a single article
• Feeling convinced my boyfriend was about to dump me even though he assured me he wasn't and I had no evidence to suggest he would
• Feeling conviced I was crap at my job and I was about to get fired at any minute even though my boss assured me I wasn't and I had no evidence to suggest I would
• Not being able to enjoy a single thing.

I decided I was probably depressed. So I read a book about "coping with lonliness." Trouble was reading this book about lonliness made me feel more lonely. And I wasn't *actually* lonely. I had a flatmate, and a boyfriend living up the road, and friends scattered here and there. So I tried "pulling myself together." 
 
Nope. Still felt all of the above.
 
One evening I thought I was about to go mad inside my own head so I called my sister. She "took one look at me" (as much as you can do down a phone line) and told me to get myself off to my doctors. And I'd had about enough of feeling shit, so I agreed. I'd considered it before but always stopped myself because I didn't want to:
 

• be "officially mad"
• become "someone else" who my family and friends (or even I) wouldn't recognise
• be "officially mad"

 
But I thought I'd give it a go. And I'm so glad I did. I was asked what treatment I wanted which I thought was unusual as when I have cystitis the doctor prescribes me anti-biotics. S/he doesn't ask me how I want to treat it.  So I went straight for the jugular and got prozac and put on a waiting list for the counsellor.
 
Within a couple of months I realised how incredibly lucky I was to have had access to both treatments (most people have access to the former, very few to the latter), and that the prison I'd been living in since I was about 11 had disappeared. I enjoyed life again.
 
Counselling lasted 8 weeks, Prozac lasted 8 months. Neither made me "someone I wasn't." Neither made me officially mad. I told who I wanted to and none of them thought I was mad. Most importantly, I didn't think I was mad.  I realised that I wasn't a right miserable old bastard at heart, and I finally got to act like that.  
 
When I found myself sat in front of a different GP a year later requesting an abortion, she took one look at her PC screen and said "I see you've been depressed. This will probably bring about a recurrance of it."  (So will becoming a mother against my will, I thought, and wish I'd said out loud.)  I nodded and said that was a risk I was prepared to take. Oh bollocks, it did. But not in the same way. I felt seriously crappy but it was about something specific, and the way it made me feel about my entire family, which for one reason or another, I didn't tell a single member of. This made it much easier to deal with. And I did deal with it. And I don't regret it, and don't feel bad about it anymore. See the letter I posted on 20th April to demonstrate that better.
 
Anyway, what this entire post has been leading up to was that yesterday I felt a bit depressed again. It was a familiar feeling. Desperate to do something, to take my mind off what I was feeling but totally unable to bring myself to do anything. Having a hug from R then crying at the futility of it all because I knew a hug wouldn't do the trick. We had a brief talk through of it and concluded that it was almost certainly anxiety about the new job on monday. And then I had a brain wave...............
 
I went for a jog.
 
The doctor I saw 2 years ago suggested I took up exercise to help me with my feelings, and I thought "pah what rubbish, how can swimming help my mental state?"  I can now see that it was probably just what I needed. Alongside prozac and counselling!  Fortunately yesterday a quick jog was just the ticket. I got back, and felt so much better.  I'm still absolutely shitting myself about tomorrow, but at least I've got it in me to enjoy today, because I deserve to!

Ugggg. Bottle of wine, 2 tequilla slammers and a G & T = bad head today. And tonight I'm meant to be off to see a demonstration of some green gadgets at the Dana Centre. When in fact all I want to do is go home and eat chips. Now I understand why people generally have their work leaving do on their last day of work.

Back to the Dana Centre. It's a pretty well kept secret but it shouldn't be - it's great! And amazingly, a child-free oasis of calm should you decide to visit any of the museums in South Kensington in the next six weeks.   

So yesterday was the first day of the summer holidays for many children. And it was a pretty glorious day, by recent standards. Lucky devils.  Walking home, I saw that the donkeys were back at the top of Greenwich park. At first I was confused and thought I must have gone to work on a saturday, then I remembered about the holidays.
 
It was pretty nice weather at the weekend too. I even brought a pair of beige trousers out of hibernation for the occasion. I felt pleased because for once I actually did something outdoorsy on a nice sunny day. Normally I laze around at home, hearing my mother's voice inside my head saying "you'll regret this next time it's cold and miserable" and therefore consumed with guilt. I went for a walk in St. James' Park with some friends. It was cut short when one friend realised she'd been pick-pocketed/lost her wallet. She decided to assume the former, which meant a trip to the police station.  I think the police station was actually in Royston Vasey. No-one could work out how to log on to the station computers so a big dusty pad was pulled out. At one point the PC noting down the details stared at the ceiling with his mouth open for a full minute. We all caught each other's eyes and I could see everyone's lips starting to twitch. Fortunately a different PC breezed in shortly after that and said he'd take over.  Logged in, details taken, crime reference issued. Bing Bang Bong. All while the first PC was still deciding which door he would leave by.   Near the end, an old lady came in and declared that she was lost. He coach was parked somewhere near a big park and the Thames. Oh dear.
 
A few minutes after we left, friend decided it had probably fallen out of her pocket when she tied her shoelace up. Sigh.

Oh the excitement.  I can now change the font size and colour of my posts because blogger have gone all idiot-proof with their "create post" page. I probably could have done it before but it would have required a scant knowledge of HTML, of which I have none.
 
The only bummer is that the font seems to default to georgia or similar, which is a pain if you blog in Trebuchet.

"Finally a train announcement you might like the sound of"
 
Or so that's what the poster at New Cross Gate station tells me.
 
The announcement is that South Central trains is changing its name to Southern.
 
No. That is a train announcement that I am entirely indifferent to.

If you haven't given blood lately, or if you've never given blood before, get yourself over to www.blood.co.uk and search for your nearest session. And I can particularly recommend the mobile donor units! I had the day off on tuesday and was in Lewisham when I saw the big white van. From the outside it reminded me of a Haunted House at a funfair - stepping in at one end and emerging half an hour later at the other end looking a bit paler. But once inside I was pleasantly surprised. It was my 7th donation and it was the fastest and friendliest of the lot. And...... they had Tuc Biscuits!

7 working days left...

I can't believe I'm still here! I keep getting emails and letters from people saying "hope the new job's going well." Obviously they can't believe I'm still here either.

I leave my current job a week tomorrow. I'm working six weeks notice which is longer than I had to give, but made sense because of lots of things going on here this month. But boy am I ready to go! Quite a few organisations ask for three months notice. It must be very hard to keep motivated during that period.

Yesterday was a big pile of shite, and even though I kept repeating "7 days left" to myself like a mantra, I still left work in the evening feeling pretty rubbish. So it was perfect timing that when I got home, my NVQ assessor certificate had arrived in the post. Last October, I was on the verge of not bothering to complete my portfolio and get the certificate. I was feeling pretty crappy about lots of things at the time, and it seemed like an extra worry I didn't need. THANK GOD my assessor talked me into completing it because it was one of the essential criteria on the person specification for my new job. It turned out to be my ticket out of here.

I've just got back from Vinopolis. I tasted 5 wines - each tasting was 25ml. So that's 125ml of wine. And I had a bombay sapphire cocktail. 2 shots of gin.

If I only had the equivalent of one small glass of wine and a double gin, why did I get absolutely sloshed? And now I've had a couple of hours of feeling sloshed, I've got the mother of all hangovers. That's not nice.

Sod hints of mango and wood. I swear my fifth tasting had an aroma of garlic salt like the sort you get on crispy seaweed at the chinese takeaway.

This morning I completed the Race for Life in 25 minutes and 23 seconds. Considering I was aiming for under half an hour, I'm feeling pretty thrilled right now.

I'm blogging off now for a few days. I've got to go on a residential and facilitate some team building activities with new staff. (Who are all present and correct after last week's balls-up.)

And after that it's the Race for Life. Wish me luck, and if you're in the area, pop over to Blackheath on Sunday morning to gawp at 7000 women in sportswear.

From super to shite and back again

Woke up. Birthday. Quarter Century. Woo Hoo! R made me fresh juice. I asked him to do his impersonation of a daddy long legs as a birthday treat. He actually consented. Amazing. Normally when I ask him to do daft things like that, he refuses and reminds me he is not a toy.

Up and out by 8.15 so actually at work by 9 for a change. (I wouldn't know a full day's work if it bit me on the bum, I've been so slack just lately.) Very efficient. Set up training room so it looked warm and welcoming for 3 new staff starting today. I am inducting them. Super.

By 10.30 it becomes apparant that due to ginormity of communication breakdowns, 2 of the 3 staff think they are starting on Monday. Great. Had guest speaker up from Canterbury especially for the occasion. Manage to get 2 out of the 3 in. Induction starts at 11.30. Only 90 minutes late! I am so cross that I bark "nice if you to join us" at them. Not a good way to start. You've really lost it as a tainer if you have to resort to using sarcastic phrases like that. Shite.

Session goes remarkably well though. Go to lunch with colleagues. One gin and tonic, hummus and pepper sandwich, potato wedges and chocolate puddle cake later, I am feeling much better. Super.