4:19 p.m. - 2007-12-13
Little Pink Hitler
As I write I�m sitting by the window in the living room and even though it�s barely half past three in the afternoon the sun is already beginning to depart the sky, the colours being painted onto the atmosphere are stunning, particularly so because its been a bitter cold day and the frost glazing the atmosphere is adding a sparkling pastel dimension to the sun�s palette, its beautiful, blending down from vivid golds and reds into translucent shades of blue, mauve, cream and soft pink. I love watching the sun both rise and set, it never fails to enthral and move me and I wish I had the skills to paint in words what my eyes can see. Twinkles is grousing that having the blinds open just so that I can sky gaze is like living in a shop window or a goldfish bowl and it�s not like I�ve never seen a frigging sunset before�moan, grumble, gripe. He�s been completely manic today, it�s his last day off before Christmas so he�s been dashing around �doing things,� and consequently he�s knackered now and inclined to be crabby. There�s no real need for him to dash around �doing things� but getting him to accept that is nigh on impossible, being harassed is part of Christmas as far as he�s concerned, he�s always been the same. He wanted to dash out and do some last minute panic buying this afternoon, but I vetoed it saying that he�d been panic buying since the first Christmas cards appeared in the shops back in July and enough was enough, we had all the gifts we needed to have and some to spare.
Twinks isn�t the only manic thing in my life at the moment. Work has been mad this week. The computer system in the new offices just isn�t up to scratch and work has been building up as the IT crowd tinker and tamper, seemingly taking their own sweet time. My Superior�s Superior has been on her back about the lack of productivity and consequently she�s been on my back and in turn I�ve passed on stress to my staff who according to Karen are seriously considering buying me a nag�s bridle for Christmas. I�ll buy them cream cakes on Friday, win them back, they�re a fickle lot, show them a chocolate �clair and they�ll forgive you a multitude of sins. Add an ergonomics guru to the general chaos and really it�s a wonder any of us turned up to work at all. The trouble with being in the pay of the Government is that they tend to try and implement all the policies produced by their �Stats People� (stats show that if you, blah, blah) In this case, stats claimed that people who work at a computer are more productive and less likely to develop RSI if their work environment is ergonomically tailored. Some of the staff welcomed the idea, some didn�t. Phil, counting down the days to retirement, complained bitterly about the process, he liked slouching over his desk, he liked working with his nose just about resting on his computer screen, he didn�t want to sit up straight, he wanted to be left alone to be productive in his own way, it was fascism that�s what it was, it was robbing people of their God given right to have round shoulders if they so wished and it was all in aid of squeezing more work out of them for less pay and avoiding paying compensation when their joints seized up. The Ergo Guru gave up at that point and left him to his round shoulders. I�ve worked from home today, I had a detailed report that I had to complete and I wanted to do it without worrying that I was setting a bad example to my staff by slouching over my desk.
Have to go, Twinks wants me to help him get the reindeer out of the loft and make sure they�re in working order and I�ve promised to give him a foot massage after tea and we�re also having a Christmas gift-wrapping evening, which I�m dreading, he�s a right little pink Hitler when it comes to wrapping presents up, woe betide me if my corners aren�t neat enough or if my ribbons and bows don�t meet his stringent standards, he�ll tear me off a strip and then strip all my wrappings off and make me do them over again. No gifts leave this house that don�t have the Stardust stamp of approval.
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