How little has altered about her and yet how much has changed for her since that first step was taken those three years back.  Evidently, this is autobiographical and inevitably I am writing an anniversary post.  Always one for tradition, I am. It’s self-indulgent and I know nobody will care but me but god damn it, it’s my anniversary and I’ll ramble if I want to!  Yes, three years ago today was my first day doing this darn job, my first venturing into independently sourced employment and my first experience of being one of “the temps”.  Temporary work became permanent work, 3 months became 3 years.  I claimed, covenanted, swore, that I would not be sitting here on this date, still doing the same thing day-to-day.  Clearly, that fell through.  I remain optimistic that this position remains temporary and that bigger and better things are round the corner, but at the moment there are other things at task.  A few thoughts on the last year, and the position as it is now compared to how it was upon the first day, the first anniversary, the second anniversary.

Naturally, this leads me to re-read my rambles from those pivotal days, to allow for deeper reflection and comparison.  Year one, and it’s all fairly positive and gracious:

http://hermitiecki.wordpress.com/2010/01/19/i-was-looking-for-a-job-and-then-i-found-a-job/

It says a lot about this past year that this:

http://hermitiecki.wordpress.com/2011/01/19/two-years/

doesn’t seem very long ago, at all. Much less positive this time, you would note upon reading.  I wrote of the dangers of getting “stuck” which seems more prescient now than I would have imagined.  Yes, it’s only three years and, to those who have been in the same job and the same place for a decade or a quarter of a century, I’m sure it seems like a flash in the pan.  To me, though, it’s a long time.  Three years is practically an eighth of my life.  It’s longer than any relationship I’ve ever had and the biggest commitment I’ve ever made that isn’t to a horse or a football team.

What is most striking is the vast overhauls in ways of working (small Ws, folks, panic not) and personnel that have taken place in just three little years.  Of all the friendships and working relationships I formulated in the early days, there is but one of the former that abides and probably none of the latter that haven’t radically changed.  I was painfully shy when I started; for quite some time, fellow temp Nick and I barely said a word to one another, so quiet and nervy were we both.  It was probably only a couple of weeks, in actuality, until we “made friends”, bonding, funnily enough, via bitching about colleagues.  Some things – as I said – never change.  Even now, and even with the people with whom I have the least in common and know the least, bitching unites.  Of my three initial ‘work friends’ (the first time I was able to have those), only one remains at the office (as I believe I have reflected upon before).  Expand it to the first half dozen ‘friends’ and still, only one remains.  Granted, two of the others I am still in contact with, but they got out, by choice or by force.

At a quick count, 24 staff members have left in the course of those three years (I may have missed one or two as well): about 7 of those joined after I did.  Several have retired, early in most cases; some have taken voluntary redundancy; some have moved on to better things. Some were only on short contracts; one or two just didn’t like it.  Of those I can remember, I would count 8 or so of the 24 as ‘friends’ (to varying degrees).  On the plus side, to balance it out, there have been some who started after I did that are still there, and a handful of those, again, that I would view as friends (to varying degrees).

Perhaps the biggest change of all is that we have moved.  Albeit not the same as moving on or moving up, changing offices, saying goodbye to our own little outpost, has brought with it a curious mixture of positives and negatives.  Firstly, the move itself was highly memorable.  A manic day, midsummer and boiling hot, and numpty here was of course one of the late shift key players.  A morning packing and sweating; an afternoon answering phones (single-handedly juggling 3 at once at one stage) and swearing; an evening that ended with being practically shoehorned out of the building and escorted off the premises.  Barring the heat, the stress, the slight hysteria, intense thirst and subsisting on only the odd snack and half a bar of Green & Black’s, it was actually a pretty good day.  Anybody who was involved or who works with me will probably find that hard to believe, but there was something about being part of a small unit; being the main point of contact and being one of the longest-serving movers; that gave a significant sense of satisfaction.  There were moments of hilarity, moments of despair, moments of genius and cunning and lots of running around and generally being a “strapping lass”.  There were head-in-hands moments aplenty, telephone pestering in abundance, and a head on desk moment that one of my colleagues witnessed whereby I, on my knees having been talking on one of the ever-ringing phones, made a strange strangulated noise of distress.

In the end it was a worthy experience.  They say moving house is one of the most stressful things you can do – I haven’t done it, as such, but I think moving offices cannot be far behind.  However, Moving Day itself was nothing compared to what would follow.  Unpacking.  Amalgamating. The bedding in period.  All change folks!  Our team of 4 became a team of 13 [although only 9, really] overnight (or over the weekend).   Mixing with The Other Side and mixing up work styles and work to be done and big, clashing, personalities, has not been an easy ride.  Some days I wish it could back to how it was.  I know some of my colleagues wish this most days.  However, taking the rough with the smooth, it has improved some areas of worklife.  For one thing, I am getting to do a wider variety of things, in more areas of law, than I had previously, which – for the career- can only be a good thing.  As an additional plus, I have found it really rather easy and rewarding.  Better than both of these, being One Team and being shoved together (not just our teams but the whole of the division is now a lot more compact and interactive than it was before) has improved working and personal relations.  There are now more people with whom I talk regularly, there is a more unified team feel to us.  I think the team spirit goes only as far as socialising, talking in the kitchen and photocopying room, bitching about one another and the authority and the work and the bureaucracy, but for me that is the area in which it is best to have greater synergy.

I remarked upon how shy I was upon starting the job.  I still maintain that I am, by nature, a shy person and it can take some coaxing before I come out of my shell and before I ‘click’ with (most, there are notable exceptions) people.  So, to me, it is a great achievement that I can hold a conversation with a group of people that I scarcely spoke to 6 months ago, that the number of folks I can tap on the shoulder, or exchange a bit of banter or a witty aside with, has increased twofold.  The people I talk to most on an average day are not the same as those I would have done one year ago, or two years ago.  OK, one or two of them have had to suffer me from the beginning, or the near-beginning, but it was never like how it is now.  I look to each room and can usually find a friendly face.  The majority of those that I didn’t like so much or get on with so well have moved on.  There are only 2 or 3 folks now that I feel I could not sustain conversation with, and not many more that I do not want to sustain conversation with.  More surprisingly, given my nature, my suggestion to certain colleagues that I am generally a shy, insecure person has been laughed off the park.  I have clearly become some sort of arrogant monster; the sarcasm and the salaciousness and the cheek and the laughter – qualities I revere – has led others to be shocked by my claims, to scoff “You, shy?!” and to laugh in my face.  As I have considered on here before, it’s hard to know which version of me, 2009 or 2012, is preferable – to me and to them.

The same issues reign supreme that ever did.  I still hate the whispering, I still resent that I seem to be resented for having friends or talking to men, the management is still… dubious, my ‘equals’ are still a mixed bag.  I still need to either get a promotion or leave.  I need to bite the bullet and knock on the doors that need opening.  I hope not to be sitting around at the four year mark wondering where it all went wrong.  If there is a fourth anniversary, I wish to be sitting on a different bed, in a place of my own, from a superior position and with a superior bank balance.  The LPC will be practically complete, the next big step will be on the horizon and I cannot, will not, be “just admin”.  With any luck, I will not be “just” anything, and if I’m very fortunate I will not be “just admin” beyond my 25^th birthday.

Watch this space.  But in the meantime, thanks for the shits and giggles, Job. Thanks for improving my skills, my knowledge, my personality, my interaction, my grammar, my education, my culture and my friend circle.  As with last year, I now raise a glass of Belvedere vodka to myself (by myself *sob*) and say Na zdrowie!

Don’t know, don’t care – top 5 irritants you could do without;
Diary of a mobile phone/keys/pen (mine have a very boring existence);
Dragons – what mythical creatures do you wish existed in the real world? (Aside from one specific fictional werewolf, and dragons of course, the only thing I could think of here was Mr Perfect, and that’s too big a topic for just now!)

So, those top 5 irritants I would do away with if I could. May be somewhat controversial here, may not, but let us begin.

1. Tabloid newspapers (I include the Daily Mail in this). Do I really need to say more? They’re just plain wrong, an insult to the word “news” and a symbol of what is wrong with our country.

As are:
2. Celebrity gossip magazines. Hello, OK, Heat, whatever other ones there are (lots, I know, but I don’t know any other names off the top of my head). Talk about irritating. I object not so much to their existence but to their content. Who gives a flying what some D-lister has got tattooed on their rear end, or who from The Only Way Is Essex has slept with whom. (I’ve never watched it and never shall but I get the impression everyone has slept with everyone and herpes is like a handshake to these so-called celebs.) What worries me most is that people DO care and that we’re pandering to them and making them think this is ok and normal. Some court celebrity and infamy and they deserve all the shaming and inevitable tabloid wrath they receive. I pity most the unwitting “celebrities” who just want to get on with their lives without the contents of their shopping bag or their latest fashion faux pas being splashed across the glossies. Being on TV or recording an album simply should not make one fair game.

3. The X Factor. There are others of its ilk that are as bad, if not worse, but nothing else seems to whip up the same frenzy, mass hysteria, media coverage, social network coverage… I mean, really – lowest common denominator entertainment and a ridiculous money spinner for those who need it least. Oh and that’s without mentioning the parallels with good old Bedlam Hospital – let’s put mentally unstable or generally pitiful members of society on the television so everyone can point and laugh. I apologise if you like it but frankly it’s morally bankrupt and just damn irritating.

4. Intolerance. In whatever form it may be (except righteousness about the media and itv programming obviously…). There is no need and no place for opinionated, ignorant, bigoted arseholes, whether they be racist, sexist or just outright rude. I’m far from saying “love thy neighbour”, I’m just saying tolerate them, however much you disagree with or dislike them, whatever their political leanings, sex or sexuality, colour or creed. Just be nice. (And that’s coming from me, the infamously un-nice me.)

5. Bureaucracy. Bleurgh. A thing I can scarcely spell most of the time that definitely falls under the “don’t care” category! I work in an office, a bureau, and before doing so I never appreciated quite how irritating the smallest things that constitute ‘bureaucracy’ can be.  SO much red tape, so many forms to fill in, logs to keep updated, policies with which to comply… It has reached the point in our office where a member of staff has to submit a piece of paper in order to get some more paper! (I say that someone has to, they don’t – they can ask one of the normal folks (e.g. me) for some and cut out that stage.) But woe betide you if you ask for some work to be done without a green slip!!! I know it’s not just my office, it’s a pandemic. Endemic. Whatever.  It’s a national thing, maybe international.  We’re obsessed with authorisation and formfilling and paper trails and filing. I’m a touch OCD about a lot of things and I keep so many random scraps of paper and like to keep records of everything – hence having a blog and having a room fit to burst with boxes of junk and notepads and booklets and piles of paper everywhere you turn.  But I do it for a reason.  A personal, sentimental, fulfilling reason.  I don’t do it to avoid being sued. I don’t do it to wind up my employees.  I don’t keep a log of every thing I do, when I did it and how long it took.  I used to love filling in forms when I was younger – it made me feel all grown up and responsible and important.  Then I grew up.  Now it’s a chore and if I weren’t such a coward and a goody-two-shoes I would buck the system and rebel.  Anarchy anarchy!

Bureaucracy… I wish I could file it away between a copy of Heat and a Monday morning edition of The Sun.  Alas, my Room 101 would be so large it would take an entire army of bureaucrats to organise it. And log the contents. And create a booking-out system. And to authorise it. And approve it. And countersign it. And to put up all the red tape.

Soapboxes down kids.

Phew. That was fun. I do like a good rant!  Thank you Katy for giving me that opportunity (as if I need an excuse!) If you aren’t one of them (and even if you are) please go and read the other alphathon blogs – I will shortly put links up  on the blogroll thing on the right.

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Now, anyone who knows me will probably laugh out loud when they find out that I have to do one for myself. Quite clearly I am not a person who thinks I am awesome and to be fair I don’t suppose anyone else does, so I am using a bit of poetic licence here. This is sort of the certificate of awesome for the uber-Lauren, if she were actually awesome. It’s taking all the things I might say about myself when on a facetious ego trip, or all the small compliments that are said to me without sincerity or severity, but can be (mis)interpreted as adding up to an Awesome Me.

Without further ado, I present to thee, Lauren Adamiecki, this Certificate of Awesome, designed to entertain others and embarrass you, and without ever meaning to take itself too seriously.

A star on an otherwise cloudy night – a compliment given, not only once: for all the times you were there to lighten the load or the mood and to be the saving grace in the grey.

Wise beyond your years – perhaps just another way for folks to say you’re basically middle-aged inside, but nonetheless an accolade to revere. It’s a valued trait by many a peer.

“Excellent” – the word used too much in an otherwise very humbling and flattering reference. Apparently, or at least you did two and a half years ago, you have several excellent qualities that may appeal to a university and lend themselves to a career in the law. I hope it proves to be the case.

Sarcastic pedantic cow – on the face of it, not a complimentary description! However, your sarcasm (facetious little upstart being another memorably utilised nickname) and pedantry are two of your more liked “talents”. The former provides a sense of humour which otherwise would be almost absent; the latter is one of your few marketable skills and one sometimes used to the greater good. Admittedly both of these also drive your friends, colleagues and family to distraction from time to time! But you’d be very boring without them. It’s an awesome definition.

Oh what a circus, oh what a show. Eva Peron you ain’t, but if life is a play and the world is a stage, you can be satisfied that your part in the show is not the villain. Nor are you the fool. You’re generally harmless and generally likeable and, some might say, mildly awesome. Take a bow. Just be careful to whom you bow.

Mother – Almost 25 years into your life, and you have not become one – which is rare indeed given where you hail from! More importantly and even at this stage more of a relief, you have not become yours. A truly terrifying prospect. You can at least hold your head high and say “I am not my mother” – and long may it continue.

Ee, by gum. What a bizarre balance of clearly good and enigmatically maybe good qualities you present to the world. Everyone’s a critic and everyone has their own view and some will find you annoying and tiresome. Notwithstanding, you simply must remember, you can be awesome, and you must convince yourself.

Well that’s my take. I can only be so self-congratulatory and this is a certificate of mild awesomeness. Hmmm. Awesomeness… What do you make of it?

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A friend of mine recently undertook, with two friends of hers, a 50-day “blogathon” (http://twitterblogathon.wordpress.com/2011/10/14/what-is-the-blogathon/) which seemed to me a cracking, inspired idea (although I didn’t discover it until its completion, perhaps to the benefit of the LPC effort). They are now embarking, or rather have embarked, upon a repeat performance of sorts: the Alphathon.

I have been asked if I would like to contribute, join in, dip in and out… And I intend to do just that.  It seems I have already missed the start; A and B have already been covered by the three main stars of the piece.  I will very much be supporting cast, the occasional guest star, certainly not top billing…

I don’t know how well it will work.  I don’t know if I’ll do one entry or twenty (most likely somewhere in between) but I am already writing something for the letter C, which I will publish tomorrow (if it’s finished) and… we’ll see what transpires.

I hope the links to the Alphathonners have worked and that they’re not baffled by the ‘trackbacks’ or ‘referrers’ or whatever it may come up as on the stats.  Hi, I’m Lauren, hopefully you’ve heard of me

Needless to say, the horses have been a far more enjoyable part of the year and far less of a trial, but no less hard work and far more difficult to ignore for a few days!  Solito and Scooter, “the bobbos”, “my boys”, have been a massive part of my life since February and August respectively.  Despite the moaning and complaining about the time and cost problems, the cold and the mud, and the muscle strains and leg pains, the addition of my boys to my life has been a very positive thing and I wouldn’t change it.

The Law side of life has seen a change this year, from completion of the GDL in May to commencing the LPC in September.  The fact we are now in January and coming up to the fifth weekend of the “lupka” is hard to come to terms with, so fast has the time flown.  The GDL result was both one of the biggest successes and biggest surprises of the year, passing with a Commendation, getting a Distinction mark on the mental health research project and achieving my highest mark in the Land exam, the afternoon after a nearly sleepless night and an exploding car!

Academically we may have seen some change but, as yet, a similar progression in the career has not come to pass.  I promised to myself in January last year that I would not be doing the same job come January (19^th) this year… I may now have to re-evaluate that ambition.  Nonetheless, I am determined that I will, in the near future, make a bold move one way or the other in the career stakes, whether it be where I am now or whether it means moving on.  Such are the financial straits I find myself in, part supporting 2 horses and trying to pay my way as far as possible on the LPC, that it is imperative not only for my sanity but also my bank balance that I move on up in the world.

Holiday

I don’t wish to labour the point, but due to the aforementioned law, horses and poverty, I have not been able to get away from home too much.  However, in October – and thanks to Caz, Robbie and Ben – I ventured to Morocco for a week of sun, sand and souks.  Taking in beautiful scenery and very windy mountain roads, we experienced tagines, olives on an unprecedented scale, street theatre, a donkey car park, a camel ride across the desert, a night camping under the stars (a particular highlight), 30 degree heat by the hotel pool, berber pizza/pasty, cats EVERYWHERE – including the most memorable of all, “ceiling cat”, mid-morning calls to prayer and a range of riads and Kasbahs, to name but a few facets of the trip.  At any rate, I had a thoroughly good week and have some great photos and memories to mark my only venture abroad of the year.

Cultural Highlights

For several years I have found myself completing end of year questionnaire evaluations of one form or the other, and for the past three years I have been coerced to name my favourite book/film/song/TV programme/play of the year, so it seems only right to divulge a few of these now.

I am notoriously bad for choosing one of anything, so for these questions, drawn from the above conversation/questionnaire, I may have to give a few answers.

Best book of the year: I’ve read a total of 6, my favourite 2 of which were gifts and enjoyed for very different reasons: One Day, by David Nicholls, and Empires of the Sea by Roger Crowley.

Film: I’ve watched 124 “new” films this year, but 16 new releases in the cinema (I have a list – yes, I am really that sad).  From these, in chronological but not preferential order, The King’s Speech, Never Let Me Go, Super 8 and Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy were the best.  All very good, in very different ways.

Song: Only thought this one through the past couple of days, I’ve been very out of touch this year. However, Adele’s Someone Like You, Rhianna’s We Found Love and the live version of Edge of Glory by Lady Gaga are the best I can think of, with an honourable mention for Moves Like Jagger which has prompted many laughs and is the one genuinely dancey dance song I know and like this year.

TV programme: It was decided that The Killing wasn’t allowed because it’s “old” despite me only watching it this year… So, The Shadow Line was probably my favourite aside from that.  Very good television, and very good Eccleston.  I liked Game of Thrones and United too.

I have been to one concert, Morrissey in Plymouth; one musical, Avenue Q at the Theatre Royal and one comedy stand-up gig thing (what is the proper name for those, I wonder?), John Bishop at the Liverpool Arena thing (what is the proper name for that, anyone?!)  but the cultural highlights came from seeing two of my favourite plays and two of my favourite actors on stage.  I was privileged this year to see two wonderful Shakespeare productions: firstly, Macbeth at the Liverpool Everyman, with David Morrissey in the lead role, which was truly stirring and haunting and very, very well done.  Secondly, another of my favourite plays: Much Ado About Nothing, at the Wyndham’s Theatre in London, starring none other than Mr. David Tennant and comedy companion, Catherine Tate, as the reluctant but hilarious lovers.  Emma Thompson & Kenneth Branagh, you were fab, but this was something else!

Two Weddings and a Funeral

On one of the year-in-review things I have completed in the past, questions arose about attending a) weddings and b) funerals.  This year I have been to my first one of the latter, shockingly. I don’t wish to get sentimental in such a forum, but it was one of the hardest and yet nicest experiences of my short life.  My former colleague, friend and generally good man, Bob passed away at a tragically young age of 58, the news of which was genuinely the biggest surprise of the year and prompted perhaps the hardest day at the office I’ve ever had.  The funeral was a fitting tribute to the man, a very moving experience and a very difficult one.  My thanks go to the friends with whom I spoke, travelled and sat on the day, without whom it would have been all the harder.  Rest in Peace, Robert, and thank you for everything.

Onto cheerier things, either end of the year I attended two weddings: that of my adopted “sister” and of my adopted obi-wan. These two delightful celebrations took Finny and me to Buxton and Bury St-Edmunds, and brought out two new dresses, as well as the child in me and some truly heartfelt feelings and sentiments.  Bleurgh.  Both were highlights of the year, both were genuinely moving occasions for all the right reasons and I’m touched and flattered to have attended both.  For the privacy of my friends and the retention of my reputation I will say no more, but (in case I’ve not said it enough already) congratulations to both happy couples! And thank you.

The Deep Stuff

I did a semi-deep, revelatory sort of demi-review in July (see below), in which I reflected upon “what do you hope for in 2011?” and reported an unlikely level of success!  Since then… not much has changed.  As ever, I wish I had made more of my time and my youth this year; gone out more, got away more, worked harder, slept less, exercised more, moped less, eaten better, ached less, lived more and lived better.  One of the most enduring phrases of one of my friends: “be better” can never be better applied than to yours truly.  I don’t mean to imply that I am not good, or no good, only that I can and should be more good, be better.  I think that anybody would say the same: that however good we are or however well we are doing, we could do better.  It is my considered view that one’s life should be a continual learning curve and quest for advancement and improvement, and that the day that we stop striving for better should be the day we die.  Nobody ever reaches perfection and nobody is ever “complete” and as soon as I think I know enough, I want somebody to clout me round the ears and send me on my way with some new, useful knowledge or salient detail.

The point, if I ever had one, was partly that I have taken on and taken in much more this past year and I feel that, despite the obvious pitfalls of my new lifestyle, I have perhaps become a more rounded and a better informed individual for it.  Of course, I cannot leave that on a positive note; oh no, I must return to my original statement – I must be better.  My main complaint for the year that has just passed is that of balance, or the woeful lack thereof.  Everybody tells me how much I have to fit in and how they don’t envy me and how impressive it is that I am attempting to do a full-time job, a part-time course, look after two horses and attempt to be a well-read individual and well-practised film geek (OK, so the latter two don’t tend to come into anyone else’s consideration, but they’re certainly part of mine), but it’s not impressive because I do not do it well.  All this is before we even consider having any sort of a social life or doing any form of exercise or hobby.  Writing and music have been well neglected, my novel reading has come almost to a standstill and several DVD boxsets from last Christmas (and even before that) remain untouched or barely touched.  The Film List for 2010 is not yet completed, and I still haven’t seen Star Wars!!  These are all trivial things, of course, and the real battle for balance rests with the law and the horses (to bring us full circle).

I need to up my game, organise my time and my life better and sort out my prospects.  I cannot pretend not to be frustrated by the professional position I am in, I had hoped to be further along and higher up the ladder by now.  I know that this is partly due to circumstances out of my control, but partly due to my own indecision and inactivity.  I can find excuses all day long for not polishing up my CV, for not looking for new jobs, for not talking to the bosses at the office about career prospects, but at the end of the day, if I can find time to watch a film of an evening, to stay in bed until 11 at a weekend or to be ill for a week, I can bloody well find time to sort my career out.  Playing it safe has been a preferred option for too long and when I compare my relative position at the beginning of 2010 to the beginning of 2011 I find that depressingly little has changed.

It would be foolish to start making resolutions and promises for the year ahead or to set myself deadlines when I know I won’t adhere to them.  What is required is more of a radical and internal change of approach, a different mindset and better priorities.  Perhaps the horses need to become secondary to the law; aspects of the job needs to be scaled back in order to advance other aspects of the career.  Most of all I need better discipline, a better routine and a generally better mood, all of which I hope, in time, will lead to greater happiness and a better Lauren.  It just may not be this year.

The Conclusion

Happy New Year folks!  Watch this space for potential developments in the blogging stratum of life (just to fly in the face of all the foregoing about time constraints!) and please, please give me a kick up the arse when it’s required.  I need to “sort my shit out”.

“What are you wishing for in 2011?

Health, wealth and happiness.  A realistic career plan, a place to call my own, a commendation on the GDL, a man, a horse, a job paying >£15k.  I could go on… No great ask!”

The halfway point has now passed, just over a week ago, and with it being a somewhat busy and stressful week I didn’t get round to reflecting on it earlier.  Being bored at home on a Saturday night (LOSER) seems like an opportunity.

What is striking about the above is that some of the ‘wishes’ have actually come true.  Ignoring the first three, as health is a dead duck and wealth and happiness are a joke, indulge me to consider:-

A realistic career plan – remains to be seen. There is a career plan, with which I am ploughing on regardless; whether it is realistic, practicable, or sensible – only time will tell.

A place to call my own – no luck as yet, due to impoverishment – to which we shall turn shortly.  Nonetheless, the ideal remains and with any luck will be realised before too much longer.

A commendation on the GDL – Just!  By virtue of some generous marking, NTU’s policy of rounding up borderline marks, and a weird interest in mental health, I have been awarded with a ‘pass, with commendation’ on the graduate diploma in law.  It hasn’t looked very likely for the past 18 months that I’d do anything more than scrape through, at best, but somebody clearly liked me and, despite it being thanks to the upgrading of a distinctly average mark, I have my commendation, which, on paper, is all that matters.

That’s a good place to go off on a tangent regarding one of the more profound events of the year so far… On the two year anniversary of starting my job I rambled, on here, about Bob’s wise words of “don’t get stuck here”.  At the time of his leaving he also implored me to pull my finger out and do well on the course, I guess as part of not getting stuck.  Earlier this year, word reached us that Bob had died, that the big C word got to him and, needless to say, it was devastating news.  It remains a huge regret of mine that I never saw him again after that tipsy farewell with sincere best wishes.  I never could have anticipated that the next time I encountered him would be in a church, in a box.  It would have given me a great sense of satisfaction and vindication to have been able to tell him my results, to – metaphorically speaking! – jump up and down like a child seeking approval saying “look what I did!”, to get a pat on the back, literally or figuratively.  It’s a cruel twist that I was robbed that opportunity, and an unendingly crueller twist that he was robbed a long and healthy retirement.  Without wishing to get too deep, I’d feel honoured and unduly touched to think that, even for those short 9 months of our acquaintance, I made an impression; that perhaps from time to time after the goodbye I was spared the odd thought; and most importantly of all, that he would have been pleased, or proud, to know of my achievement.  In a way, the absence of that exchange, that pat on the back, inspires me all the more to not get stuck.  I hope he somehow knew, or knows(?), what an impression was made on me.

Moving on…

A man  …

A horse – well. Well, well, well.  Poor Solito.  A few months ago I started writing about the acquisition of Solito, as follows:

“A horse, a horse, my sanity for a horse?!

Another hare-brained scheme has been cooked up by my mother and her friend, to the tune of my sister, my mother and me acquiring a free horse.   In itself, this sounds like a great idea and a logical plan, given that the three of us do love, and miss, horsing around.  I love horsing around in the common vernacular sense too, but that’s by the bye.  As ever, it is the means to the end that are the issue; the cockamamie nature of the plan, the farcical nature of its execution, the idealism and optimism of its executors…

Let start at the very beginning – a very good place to start, as the catty nuns told me twelve years ago in my infamous Gang Show performance of Sound of Music numbers.  When you’ve a brain you begin with A B C, when you don’t you begin with O M G.  (A phrase uttered on more than one occasion, in more than one form, by more than one person today.) 

Mother’s best and oldest friend has had horses on and off for the best part of her life and is currently stabling one in a pleasant nearby village; she thus has contacts in the horsey world that we do not (not always an advantage, as it transpires…).  Currently my sister also has a 3/7 loan share in an ageing but active anglo arab, elsewhere in the county.  My sister therefore has been gradually getting back into the horsey game (having only really been out of it due to time and money constraints) and has prompted the discussion of the three of us – not including the friend – getting back into horse ownership.  

It all sounds like a good idea so far, I’m sure, and I still hope that it is and shall prove to be.  However, in only the preliminary stages of the discussions of horse ownership (working out how much it would cost, contemplating where to keep them [one between three isn’t enough, so the idea was to get two – one naggier and one classier], etc. etc.,) the horsey friend informs us she has heard of a ‘retired’ polo pony in need of a good home.  Ignoring for a moment the fact that we can far from guarantee a ‘good’ home, my mother has dreamed for nigh on 50 years of someone giving her a horse.  As the saying goes, you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.  However, as the common wisdom goes, you shouldn’t accept a gift horse without seriously examining and exploring quite why it is a gift!”

Another abandoned project there, you see, but a brief lead in to the saga of following months.  Solito was that gift horse, and has worked out just fine, in the end.  Bless his cotton socks.  However, the trials and tribulations of finding him (and us) a friend still rumble on, with disappointment after disaster after dismay.

A job paying more than £15k – technically I have now achieved this.  In practice, I am yet to be receiving that salary due to administrative tedium and infamously slow bureaucracy.  The (comparatively) lucrative >£20k job, however, which in theory would enable me to develop the ‘place of my own’ idea (told you we’d come back to it), remains woefully absent.  I said, also on the two year anniversary ramble, that I did not intend to see the three years out.  I would feel like I had failed; let myself down and let down those that think highly of me, if I were to find myself in this same situation come January 2012.  My intentions never have been and still aren’t to cut and run, and I remain hopeful of an opportunity where I am being washed up after the chopping and changing has come to its end.  However, should that not occur, or should it occur and I miss out on it, that may be the sign needed to move on.  Should that day come, I won’t relish it, but as the Air Supply song goes, “though it’s going to hurt (us both), there’s no other way than to say goodbye.”

Providing all has gone OK – by no means guaranteed – it’s another one in the bag and another qualification that is supposed to be significant. Strangest of all, and those I bade farewell to six years ago probably wouldn’t have seen it coming, it’s in law. Granted they may have imagined a graduate diploma in law at 24 more likely than anything else in law… but it’s fair to say it was never in the blueprints.
You guessed it; another “well, look where we are now!” piece. To coin a common phrase, we are where we are. [Ordinarily on the edge of a deep abyss, staring down the barrel of a gun, up shit creek, in a tunnel with no light at the end...]

Anyway, to a retrospective: with hindsight I loved my time at school. The latter years were challenging (not academically, of course, although even that suffered as a result of the other challenges) but with the exception of 2009 – I think – they were the best years of my life. A disclaimer must be issued there that obviously I have not spent many years on this earth so far, and hopefully there will be as good or better years to come.

It’s difficult to comprehend quite how it has come to be that I have strayed so far from all that is good and onto the path of self-righteousness. I left school with very little ambition or direction, taking on a history degree for the lack of any better ideas. Again, I have no regrets on that score and with further hindsight it’s all the better a choice, even taking into account this drastic offshoot into the legal profession. I’ve thought often, and probably written occasionally, about how this turn of events came about and whether it’s the right one to pursue – yet always reach the same conclusion of un…concluded…ness. Shit happens!

I kid, partially, when I refer to it as shit for on most days it is my preferred route through life (beyond the ideals of writing novels and speeches and BBC programmes) and I continue to appreciate and be interested in the law. I refuse to think about it just yet, but the next thing is to consider a further stage, a further two years and a further qualification on the path to soliciting myself. Six years ago it scared me too much to be on my radar for a degree; today it scares me that it is on my radar. It cannot be escaped from that this is real and is scary and that I have to be a grown up.

Adulthood and real life and becoming a professional are unwelcome now as much as they were to that 18 year old, but in the interests of avoiding getting ‘stuck’ or being the perennial wanderer and wonderer, it’s a leap that needs to be taken sooner rather than later. Now we just need opportunity to knock, and better yet for me to answer its call.

A Laurenesque take on Mr. David Bowie’s Five Years.

The last time I saw him, a wise man warned me: “don’t get stuck here”.  He’s far from the only one to have expressed that sentiment, but he was the first.  It has always stayed with me.

Nevertheless, a little over 15 months from that date, and 24 months from the first day, here I still am (stuck?).  It really isn’t the ideal time to contemplate the… stickiness or otherwise of my position, being a time at which nothing is certain and, during which, discussing the uncertainty is getting to be a bigger ball-ache than the uncertainty itself.  Yet it is an anniversary, and for some reason I feel obliged to mark the occasion (for sure as damn it nobody else will) with a little contemplation.

Looking back at last year’s anniversary ramble (was there ever any doubt one would follow this year, so long as the job remained?) I stated at the start that I found it difficult to write, and that this was unusual for me.  Obviously it did not remain as difficult as I went on for 1,600 words about worklife trials and tribulations, and most importantly the triumphs.  This time round it remains difficult, which is again quite baffling given my propensity for lengthy rambles and introspective, retrospective verbosity.  An extract of that which I have just read from yesteryear states;

“Although some days getting out of bed remains a challenge, more often than not I want to, and that’s probably the highest compliment I can pay to my working life as it is.”

And I guess that’s probably the best example of what has changed in the past year.  A lot of mornings, on and off for the past 7 or 8 months now, I have not wanted to get out of bed, I’ve not wanted to face the world of work and the traffic and the inclement weather and the inevitable tedium and mindless chatter and mind-numbing tasks and management and bureaucracy and bullshit…  That sentence sort of got away from me a little there.  It does, however, sum up in one (elongated and ineloquent) sentence what has caused this level of… disenchantment.

Again, I’m returning to this task after the ‘anniversary’ day itself.  Not unusually it has been a strange day; no pomp or circumstance, of course, but lots of reminders of what I hate about the place and what I still like.  The second year has undoubtedly been less enriching than the first – perhaps because it’s no longer novel to be treated like a friend, confidant, equal, servant and secretary all at once; perhaps because it has become a life of autopilot: driving, parking in the same spot as far as possible, talking to the same people, doing the same repetitive tasks and coping with the same challenges from those happy few who in turn treat me as a sounding board and a skivvy; perhaps just because I’m coming to question more and more what exactly I’m in it for.

While I have been sat here, having sipped my way through a shot of posh vodka and about to commence drinking a cup of (probably cold, definitely stewed) tea, I have been “beavering away” on a Job Evaluation form.  The irony astounds.  It’s not actually evaluating my job, which is more what this document is for, but it is evaluating the job I am *meant* to do, in accordance with my (inaccurate) job description and person specification and entails stupid questions about mental demands and how far I walk with a heavy burden (there’s a metaphor in there I’m sure) and which does not entail any meaty or enjoyable aspects such as job fulfilment or job criticism.

At the moment, this ramble doesn’t involve many of those either.  I have criticised, over the preceding 18 months or so, many aspects of “This Place” and the monkeys within it, and I don’t think it would serve me or any member of my extensive audience (cough cough) particularly well to return to past territory, particularly in this less-than-inspired mood.  I will return to the “don’t get stuck here” point a bit later on, but in the name of equity and of trust (legal joke for you there) should reflect, however fleetingly, on the aspects – aspect? – that continue to be favourable.

First and foremost, and quite possibly standing alone, it is my feted colleagues who remain the reason that I bother some days.  ‘Twas ever thus, alas, albeit that the ones I have feted have changed to some radical degree.  Those to whom I look for entertainment, for chirpiness, for good moods and ego boosts, those whom I care about more than I care about the (majority of the) work and without whom I almost definitely would not have lasted this long – they are those that keep me sane.  I’ve written and spoken before, undoubtedly at length, about the phenomenon of people liking my company and appreciating my efforts and “talents” (not my choice of word, by a long chalk) and therefore I do not intend to dwell on that; to flatter anyone’s ego or to blow my own trumpet.  I do intend to make plain that there have been many occasions upon which I have considered a change of scene, or looking outside the box and ditching this career “plan” or spreading my battered and beaten wings, but have been dragged back from the brink by reminders – active or pensive – of how good I do currently have it.  And I have it good to a large extent because of the good that can be found there.  It seems churlish to complain about the tedium of work and the forces of evil and stupidity beyond my control or influence, when after all I do have a job and that it is in the sphere in which I (currently) want to work; but, despite all this, what strikes me the most is how lucky I have been to have found people I can connect with, talk to, befriend… and from whom I have undoubtedly learned an awful lot.  However much longer this venture lasts, through my own design or through fates conspiring, I can take away from it some self improvement, self belief and selflessness.

There are undoubtedly developments in my character and personality that are negative and that I – and those around me – would be better off without.  For example, an already strong grasp of cynicism and an intense pedantry have been hardened (and worsened?) through the past two years’ events.  A revolutionary streak, so dangerous in this world of compliance and yes-saying, has been rekindled and fostered and my patience and tolerance for ‘idiots’ has been tested to the limit, to the point of almost subsiding.  However, in this world of troubles, the benefits pull me through.  I read somewhere that it is “the people that make the places”, a very long time ago, and never being much of a people person I never thought they could affect me that much.  Working life has disproved that theory umpteen times over.  For better and for worse.  Whilst I acknowledge now much more readily that people, or a person, can ruin a place, an event, a feeling, more importantly I realise to what extent they can enhance the same.  There are about a dozen people, at a generous estimate, who, when the chips are down, make the place better.  There are about half a dozen, again being generous, who I sincerely believe make me better.  Therein lies the second huge “pro” of the past two years.   They certainly make my life better.  Through enlightenment, encouragement and entertainment; through camaraderie, comedy and compassion; through flattery, friendliness and facetiousness; dedication, diligence and determination; intelligence, inspiration and idealism; anecdotes, Aspirin and… alliteration!: all these qualities and more (I could list until the cows come home, believe me) mean that, even on the dullest days, with the worst of atmospheres and at the height of frustration, there’s redemption to be found.

Ironic, then, that this beacon of saving grace through the fog and downpour could well be my downfall.  The problem is that I am in serious danger of getting “stuck” where it is comfortable and where I can become complacent.  At the moment it is predominantly fear of the unknown and avoidance of a challenge too great that keeps me where I am.  Realistically it would be unwise to fly the local government nest just yet, just as it is inadvisable to flee the family coop, when I am facing – unsuccessfully – such challenges elsewhere, in academia.  There will come a point, though, if I am spared this current nonsense, when I have to make that call.  It is increasingly unlikely I will get where I want (Need? Deserve?) to be by getting my head down here and keeping my powder dry.  Once upon a time it may have been a sensible approach, a failsafe method and a preferred choice.  Now, I don’t know that I want it, never mind that I’ll ever get it.  I need to pay heed to Bob’s message, and to take to heart my colleagues’ advice and, come May, seriously consider my options.  Stagnation is a very real possibility and a terrifying prospect and by the end of year three I cannot be in the same position.

Notwithstanding that, I can only reiterate that which I have already disclosed; that my life has been enriched with the benefit of the past two years.  In terms of my CV, prospects, finances, education and worth as a person, these 730 days have served me better than any previous and, bureaucratic bullshit and potential of permanence apart, my unerring appreciation, at least, is stuck.

Where did you begin 2010?

On the road between Nottingham Castle and BZR, watching fireworks with three drunken friends.

Did you keep your new year’s resolutions and will you make more for next year?

I never made a list so I can’t really check. However I did well with – i.e. far exceeded – my book-a-month, film-a-week objective.  2011: I’m thinking about it.

Did anyone close to you give birth?

No.

Did anyone close to you die?

I have halved the complement of cats I had at the beginning of the year, the two deceased being close to me, so yes, in a manner of speaking.  Although I do acknowledge people will say that doesn’t count.

What date from 2010 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

21^st January is the only one that springs immediately to mind, for passing the driving test (at least I think it was the 21^st…), and similarly 20^th February being the day I got my car.  30^th June was the day I commenced my holidaying…

What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Completing it?  Ha.  No, I guess I’d have to go for the driving again, although it was also a big achievement/miracle that I passed all my law exams.

What was your biggest failure?

I had near daily minor failures.  The biggest regret, probably being a better thing to focus on, is not doing better on the aforementioned law exams.

Did you suffer illness or injury?

A few illnesses, including a pretty bad cough recently that actually caused my only sick day and a half of the year.

What was the best thing you bought?

Daddy bought the car, so I guess of my own purchases my ticket to see Hamlet in Sheffield was probably the best.  My glasses, also, have been a good purchase as far as eyesight and headaches go!

Whose behaviour merited celebration?

As usual, that of my long-suffering friends, for the long suffering… and that of some of my colleagues who have put up with a lot, provoked very unexpected and uncharacteristic smiles and brightened many a dire day with office entertainment.

Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

Mine, mostly.  That of the “monkeys at the top”, that of family, that of the world’s politicians, media moguls, millionaires etc.  But, mainly mine!

Where did most of your money go?

Not entirely sure.  Best part of £4k on the Law course, £600 or so on petrol probably, then car maintenance/MOT etc, the two holidays weren’t expensive but not cheap either… lots of food, cinema trips, clothes, DVDs and books purchased…

What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Not a lot.  Poland was quite exciting, seeing Simmy was exciting, so too Muse.  Generally there’s not much I get particularly excited about.

What song will always remind you of 2010?

HA.  I hate to say it and I can think of a few people who would string me up for it but… Devil Woman.  The latter half of the year has been haunted by its catchy refrain.  An honourable mention too for the themes to Where Eagles Dare and TGTB&TU, as testament to a year of filmic advancement.  

Compared to this time last year, are you:

i. happier or sadder? Hard to say.  Not much change.  Perhaps slightly sadder, as it currently stands.

ii. thinner or fatter? Doubt there’s much in it.  Weight’s fluctuated less this year but the stubborn layer of flab and huge thighs remain to keep me in the fatty bracket.

iii. richer or poorer? Richer, in terms of actual money.

What do you wish you’d done more of?

The same as ever: exercise, study, socialising, travelling, writing, reading, and the old favourite “carpe diem-ing”.

What do you wish you’d done less of?

Procrastinating.  Moaning.

What was your favourite TV programme?

In terms of new programmes there’s not been much to shout about, perhaps largely because I’ve not watched much.  I really enjoyed Sherlock and continually enjoy The West Wing.  Nothing else comes to mind/stands out.

Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

No.  I honestly can’t think of anybody that I hate at all.

What was the best book you read?

Read quite a few good books this year, more than I have for a while, including Crime and Punishment and To Kill A Mockingbird at last.  The latter, Human Traces and War Horse (I know, I know) were probably my favourites.

What was your greatest musical discovery?

No “discovery” as such, but I have discovered how much some artists have going for them… I’ve delved further into the 80s this year, following the previous preponderance of the 70s, and must give an honourable mention to Fleetwood Mac.  Seeing Muse live again keeps them up top of the pecking order.  However, musically the highlight of the year has been the exploration and embracing of Mr. Ennio Morricone and his film scores.

What did you want and get?

A Ford Focus!  I should stop with the car theme… Nonetheless it’s an easier answer that delving deeper might provide, so I’ll leave it there

What did you want and not get?

To keep it brief and borrow from previous years: a life.

What was your favourite film this year?

Haha. I’ve watched about 150 due to my “Film Project” and some pretty prolific extra viewing, but shan’t do a favourites thing here.  There is rumination yet to come on the whole shebang so I’ll save it.

What did you do on your birthday?

I went to work, had a small fuss made of me and a couple of presents given to me, went out for lunch, stayed until almost 7 working on a court bundle (makes my work sound much more important than it is), went home for pizza, had an even smaller fuss made and a couple more presents given… possibly watched a film, can’t recall, and definitely watched two episodes of Strike Back featuring the luverly Richard and Andrew (Armitage and Lincoln).

What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Pfft. Tricky one… Shall avoid anything deep and opt for the shallow and irrefutable answer of… a lottery win.

What kept you sane?

Friends, films, Finny, music, The West Wing (I know, tragic).

What political issue stirred you the most?

Predictable, but our being “ConDem’d” (still claiming that joke despite The Mirror and some other paper apparently using it) and specifically Cleggy’s selling out.

Made new friends?

Not really.  Improved and consolidated some existing friendships and relationships but no new ones to speak of.

Who was the best new person you met?

Haven’t met many “new” people of note.  Few new people at the office who seem nice, a few friends/partners of friends to whom I’ve been introduced… but not made any new friends so nobody stands out as being “the best” – an accolade I object to on moral grounds anyway!

What sporting events did you attend?

A few Liverpool matches, one Forest match, the cross-country at Badminton Horse Trials.

What’s the one thing you thought you would never do but did in 2010?

I’m not sure I did anything major that I hadn’t anticipated doing. Maybe the package holiday thing!

What has/have been your favourite moment(s)?

That’s tricky.  Leaving my final exam and heading off for a few coronas was a nice moment. Likewise departing for both holidays prompted good feelings… Had a lot of feel good moments with friends and colleagues. AHH, BUT – just thought – the best moment and aftermath was probably passing the driving test and skipping off into work to celebrate.  Ditto the first drive in my own car, accompanied by Buck Rogers, was a long-awaited and uplifting moment.

What was your best month?

Probably July, maybe June.  I seem to remember January being all right but July had the Czech-Poland holiday and lots of films and books and no uni work, so that can be the winner.

Who has been your best drinking buddy?

Not sure I really have one.  Done less drinking this year than for the past 5!  Probably Hayley has been the most frequent drinking buddy but, for heavier drinking, honourable mentions go to Emma and Jon on the GDL weekends.

Any regrets?

Of course, but only minor ones I think; nothing that will cripple me or haunt me forever.

What do you want to change in 2011?

My attitude, outlook, prospects, lifestyle, accommodation, job… should I go on?!

Have any life changes in 2010?

It’s hard to say, lacking hindsight as I do.  Ask me again in a few years.  That said, the passing of the driving test and purchase of the car has made a substantial change, and largely for the better, in my life.

Get a new job?

No. Maybe next year.

Start a new hobby?

Not really.  Become a slightly more hardened film buff, if that counts…

Are you happy to see 2010 go?

I’m not unhappy to… largely indifferent. It was a lesser year than 2009 but it’s not been an awful one, and I’m expecting the first few months of 2011 to be hard going so not overly eager for that to start!

Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2010:

Law is not like History. 

Choose your audience.  Carefully.

(Neither of these is either new or groundbreaking, but both have been reiterated to me this year, more than once.)

Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:

“Nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all;” and, somewhat contradictorily,  

“Nothing has altered, yet everything’s changed.”

What are you wishing for in 2011?

Health, wealth and happiness.  A realistic career plan, a place to call my own, a commendation on the GDL, a man, a horse, a job paying >£15k.  I could go on… No great ask!

Not a lot, actually.  In a break from tradition it’s been a short, quite tame and somewhat soporific Christmas Day – as evidenced by it all being wrapped up by 10pm, after not starting until 11am.   So, to celebrate its completion and to lament its differences to years gone by, I present hereafter a blog from December 2005, from a University-based Lauren, longing for home once more and the return to tradition.

My apologies for the poor writing style and irrelevant ramble (though I suppose you are used to that.)

“10 December (2005)

Christmas is coming, Lauren is getting fat…

Those two things aren’t really related… but both are true. Scarily enough.

Firstly, how can it be almost Christmas already? I know it sounds daft but time really does seem to go by faster the older you get. In that respect I dread getting actually old – my life flies by enough as it is at the moment; what’s it going to be like in 20, 30 years? Doesn’t matter right now I suppose. (In fact it doesn’t really matter fullstop, but I won’t go into that.) But to get back to the point, it’s nearly Christmas. It’s really weird to think that this time in a week I’ll be home in the wonderful haven of Nottingham once more, and won’t be in this surreal university world for another three weeks. And in just 15 days it will be Christmas Day again. What a bloody quick year it’s been – and an interesting one – but once more, I shan’t go into that here – that’s a New Year style ramble I reckon…

So anyway, I’m getting festive now. Just put my meagre amount of tinsel up in my room…. looks quite pathetic really, but hey, ’tis the thought that counts. We’ve got our floor’s little Christmas celebration thing today, which as far as I know consists of exchanging presents and going to watch Narnia. Both of which sound cool, but I’m still thankful I have another Christmas to fall back on! Finished writing my Christmas cards now – never the most enjoyable of tasks that, even if I did have a crappy Christmas album playing at the time to get me in the mood… Got to wrap some presents today, which again is not the most fun part of Christmas preparation, but nonetheless, it all contributes to the spirit of it all.

On a slightly separate note, I haven’t looked forward to Christmas as much as this for about 8 years – at the least. Whoever would’ve thought that the thing I was looking forward to most was spending time with the family?! Not me, that’s certain enough… Though having said that I’m not entirely sure that is what I’m looking forward to. I’m looking forward to being home again, and going through all those usual traditions that make each and every individual’s Christmas celebrations unique.

Christmas Eve for example, usually consists of (once it reaches mid-afternoon and the relatives come round anyway) drinking, church, eating, drinking, drinking, drinking… and a bit of friendly family chatter and the like along the way. Oh and Christmas television – specials and all that… I’m not sure if we’ll be following that pattern this year, one year the relatives didn’t come round ’til after church for example – wooo big changes! Anyway, I think I like Christmas Eve least out of the three days we celebrate on. But it’s still nice, because it’s Christmas, and the tree’s there all sparkly and stuff and the fake cheeriness is starting to slip in. Nice. Only word for it really.

Christmas Day has a generally more strict schedule… although we’re not really so sad that we stick to it… Getting up varies from anywhere between 6.30 [when the oldest of us was about 10] and 11.30 [when the second oldest of us can't be arsed to get up.] The waking up to our stockings has taken a complete U-turn over recent years really. We used to be the ones waking our parents up, Ross usually first – and he used to shout out “It’s Christmas!” or something equally true yet cheesy when he was younger. Thankfully that one hasn’t happened for about 8 years… or maybe less… [he's only 16 now]… but now it’s Mum who gets up first… and comes into each of our rooms in turn, trying to get us to be excited about “what has santa brought you?!” – which sadly doesn’t quite have the same effect as it did when I was 10. Past couple of years, since Ross turned into a bit of an adolescent [only a bit mind you], me and Tam have usually been the first two to get up… but then usually go back to bed or try to wake up in our rooms until Mum manages to drag us all into hers. Bless her. Anyway, then we have to stick to the age-old ritual of all emptying our stockings [mine's the smallest but cutest - and I used to be overcompensated because it was so small in comparison] onto mum and dad’s bed and showing them what we got, and acting excited and stuff. Again, for the past few years none of us have bothered to pretend to be excited; mildly amused on occasion, mildly offended sometimes too, but never really genuinely excited. We all smile and laugh along anyway, try and have a good time to keep mum happy – can’t be easy having us being all grown up and stuff and not getting excited about santa coming……

Next, generally speaking, we go downstairs to open our “main” presents in the living room. Mum used to have a rule that we had to get dressed in our pretty Christmas clothes and have some breakfast first… and because of this rule we have many a photo, and a couple of years’ video coverage too, of us all sat in strange frocks and waistcoats opening presents and holding them up to the camera with huge dodgy grins. Hehe, one memory from the “Home video” sticks with me particularly well… there’s me, probably 8 or 9, sat on one of the sofas by the window in this really quite foul black velvety top and maroon skirt and mum has the camera on me. I don’t know she’s recording so can’t hide the look of bewilderment on my face at one of the presents I’ve just opened. Can’t remember what it is, but I remember wearing this headband [I always used to wear those] that’s halfway down my forehead with my hair falling everywhere. Anyway, then I turn around to the camera, hold it up with this confused look on my face, then turn it into a posey grin before turning around shyly and burying down into my bag to get something else out. She moves onto Tam next who pretends to be enthusiastic, but in her cool way… obviously Tam was incredibly grown up 10 years ago, all of 12 years old, and has to pretend to be unenthused by this childish Christmas crap. [I still think she loves it more than we do most of the time, somewhere deep down].

Anyway, after we’ve opened all these presents, a few hours passes by when we do… well, I have no idea what – not a lot usually. It used to be the period when we all played with our new toys, but generally speaking we don’t have too many toys between us now, so it’s normally trying to make things work, or eating some breakfast, or going back to bed in Bob’s case, while Dad gets on with putting the dinner on. The family usually arrive sometime between 12 or 2, with dinner normally coming at 3 or 4ish. God knows really what that meal’s meant to be. Far too late for lunch, but far too early for dinner. It all balances itself out really when you consider that as soon as Kath, Martyn and Tony arrive [just the three of them this year - Coralie went and got married and only joins us occasionally now], we tuck into all sorts of chocolates, biscuits or other Christmas like snacks. Then there’s the fact that it’s not usually til about 9 or 10 that we wind up having turkey sandwiches for… tea? Supper?! Whatever…

Right, after dinner which also follows an identical menu and usually identical seating plan too (also goes with a lot of drinking – our family is one of true alcoholics I tell ya), we then go and open the family presents, the ones that actually go under the tree. Even with just these under it, there’s still a huge amount of overspill. This is the bit of the day I both dread and enjoy the most. I get really worried that people won’t like what I bought them… this year more worried than usual, so I’m intending to get too tipsy before and during dinner to really care what people think. It seems it’ll be safer that way. But that’s nice anyway, all sat in the living room, usually 9 or 10 of us plus a dog or two… the cats are wise enough to stay away bless their hearts… Wow, first Christmas without Smokey around… that is a weird thought. Giving him some treats from his stocking has been part of Christmas forever… and now it’ll just be the two of them. Wow… Ahem. Digression. So yes, nice part of the day that. Usually what follows is watching TV, drinking and snacking and being festive and friendly. Watching Eastenders has become a tradition too, as has Bob and Martyn leaving for the other room to do a jigsaw or something similar. hehe. And Christmas Day usually peters out in a mist of merriment and alcoholism.

Boxing Day is usually our day of “fun”. We have a buffet style lunch, and dinner, and play “silly games” as Mum likes to call them. Charades, Articulate, other random board games and stuff. It used to be qutie entertaining, nowadays its just embarrassing – especially when you consider everyone’s pretty tipsy by then and you get your Dad trying to act out “Karma Sutra” for Charades, or your Mum trying to explain without using the words some cringe-worthy object. It’s not the most fun thing in the world… But Boxing Day is generally alright. More relaxed and stuff. Normally we have people beyond the family there on Boxing Day too – and this year we won’t even have the whole family – they’re buggering off back down South to stay with my cousin’s husband’s mother. How’s that for a tedious link? So yeah, in short, cos I’m typing way too much about Christmas and need to go wrap some presents, I like Christmas. I’m looking forward to returning to the traditions because I’ve been so far from all the day-by-day family fun… I don’t mind that – but I’m looking forward to being home and returning to some level of normality, familiarity. This University world genuinely is rather surreal… a different world. I used to laugh at my sister when she referred to “Oxford World” and “Nottingham World”, but now I’m starting to understand it. Different worlds completely. They hardly overlap at all.

And to return to my earlier point… much earlier. Lauren really is getting fat. Lauren has been trying to fight this belly over the past few weeks but this place is too full of temptations like 2am pizza and mince pies and sandwiches for lunch every damn day. After being called Fatty by mum and Ross when I was at home last time, I made a conscious decision to lose some weight again before going back for Christmas. So this week is one of under-indulgence, or else. I shall not buy sandwiches every day just for the sake of having nothing to do between lectures. I will visit the gym regularly. I shall have only one more fry-up here before I go home. Which I’m doing in 6 days! Wow. Then buggering off to Oxford for a couple of days to stay with Tam and have a random Christmas party I know fuck-all about. Oh well… should be fun.

Merry 15 days to Christmas one and all!”

Well… quite.  :)