I am sorry for my silence. I have retreated for a while into darkness, but
it seems light is appearing.
Trying to remember where you are up to in the tale of my life :
I am bankrupt
I am going to be redundent as of the end of May
Life has looked a little dark - well very dark if truth be known. But..and
there is a but..there is hope, i may be able to transfer my training to
full time residential. I am applying for funding to spend the next two
years of my life as a student - the very thought of spending a portion of
my life where my only responsabilitys will be to learn, to study, and of
course more important still - to be a father to do my daughter is a thought
that electrifys me - the knowladge that it may not happen equilly teriffys
me.
I havent blogged much as there has seemed so little to say. When the bank
accounts where frozen i thought we would have a new account within a week
or two - it has taken six weeks. In that time we have lived hand to mouth -
or rather hand to friends. We have been provided for though - in moments
when we thought that we wouldnt get through people have stepped in, and I
thank God for that.
Currently i am working long hours - slipping behind in my studies - and the
pressure at work seems to be getting to be notched up each day.
Thank you as ever for your prayers, and sorry for neglecting you
Yours as ever
The Broken Man
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Monday, 11 May 2009
Thursday, 26 February 2009
Broken
I am as ever broken. The forms for the bankruptcy still haven’t been filled and the letters keep coming and the phone calls don’t stop demanding money yesterday. Work is manic right now and I seem to be on a downward spiral. The studies are not going well. I get home from work at 7pm and try to collect myself, the flat is chaos and I don’t seem to have time to sort it out.
Grace is at the age, the grand age of 10 weeks, where what she needs is her mother. When I am left holding her even for a few mins she quickly dissolves into tears, and I wonder what it is that I can offer her. She is to young too know who I am, and even if she did I don’t know it would help. I crawl into bed late and get up early, and the sleep deperavation takes its tole. I need a shower, cant remember when I last had one, know I need to bath grace, and yet the time escapes.
Not coping
As ever,
The Broken Man
Grace is at the age, the grand age of 10 weeks, where what she needs is her mother. When I am left holding her even for a few mins she quickly dissolves into tears, and I wonder what it is that I can offer her. She is to young too know who I am, and even if she did I don’t know it would help. I crawl into bed late and get up early, and the sleep deperavation takes its tole. I need a shower, cant remember when I last had one, know I need to bath grace, and yet the time escapes.
Not coping
As ever,
The Broken Man
Wednesday, 11 February 2009
A watched pot, upset parents, and tears
Living in shared accommodation has its advantages – and its disadvantages. My mother had an old kettle that seemed to me to take a week to boil. Speaking to a friend who said that he had saved a “small fortune” by heating his water on the gas stove my mother went out and brought a new £40 kettle to be placed on the stove, and chucked away the old and admittedly battered electric kettle. While the electric kettle was slow to come to the boil, the gas kettle is painfully slow. Because it doesn’t turn itself of, you have to sit in the kitchen with it. Watching it. Waiting for it.
I am a creature of habit. In the morning I go into the kitchen, put the kettle on, put my porridge in the microwave, go to the loo, come back, take my porrage from the microwave pour my cup of tea. Not now. Now I sit and wait. I know its not long. Really I do. It is probably only two or three minutes longer. Yet it feels like 10-15mins. The watched kettle takes an age, the minutes dragging by painfully. Infuriated by the delay I make a search of the internet only to discover that a gas kettle does not save any money at all. It may even be more expensive. The damage is already done however, the new kettle has been brought and we must live with it. Or not have a cup of tea.
In other news the long suffering wife continues to do battle with other mums. Someone on her “list” sent out a recommendation of a book talking about how good routines are for children. Of course the long suffering wife had just been reading an article providing showing that routines create more tears, less sleep, and more stress all around. She duly circulated the article to the list – a move designed to generate feelings of hatred among the rest of the group only slightly less than her correct statement that cot death risks don’t decrees after six weeks but increase so it really isn’t the time to put your baby in a nursery.
Today I want to cry. I can find a reason. I want to stop the world and get off. Maybe it’s the kowladge of all the things I have still to collect from the old flat. Or the bankruptcy forms I haven’t finised filling out, or the pressure of work, or..Maybe its an accumulation of things, but whatever is causing it I want to hide under the duvet and vanish for a while. I am at work, its my lunch break – yet I wish I was at home, in a golden happy moment with my daughter smiling happily. I know I will not get home till seven or so by which time Grace will be struggling with colic (advice on remerdies not required). I know I will not eat till eight. I know I still have studying to do. I know when I do get home I will have to sit and wait for the kettle to boil.
I have read all your replies as ever – updates received on my phone which is far to difficult to reply on. I am listening even when I don’t answer. I am reading if sporadically your blogs even when I don’t post to your boards. Blah
Yours as broken as ever
The Broken Man
I am a creature of habit. In the morning I go into the kitchen, put the kettle on, put my porridge in the microwave, go to the loo, come back, take my porrage from the microwave pour my cup of tea. Not now. Now I sit and wait. I know its not long. Really I do. It is probably only two or three minutes longer. Yet it feels like 10-15mins. The watched kettle takes an age, the minutes dragging by painfully. Infuriated by the delay I make a search of the internet only to discover that a gas kettle does not save any money at all. It may even be more expensive. The damage is already done however, the new kettle has been brought and we must live with it. Or not have a cup of tea.
In other news the long suffering wife continues to do battle with other mums. Someone on her “list” sent out a recommendation of a book talking about how good routines are for children. Of course the long suffering wife had just been reading an article providing showing that routines create more tears, less sleep, and more stress all around. She duly circulated the article to the list – a move designed to generate feelings of hatred among the rest of the group only slightly less than her correct statement that cot death risks don’t decrees after six weeks but increase so it really isn’t the time to put your baby in a nursery.
Today I want to cry. I can find a reason. I want to stop the world and get off. Maybe it’s the kowladge of all the things I have still to collect from the old flat. Or the bankruptcy forms I haven’t finised filling out, or the pressure of work, or..Maybe its an accumulation of things, but whatever is causing it I want to hide under the duvet and vanish for a while. I am at work, its my lunch break – yet I wish I was at home, in a golden happy moment with my daughter smiling happily. I know I will not get home till seven or so by which time Grace will be struggling with colic (advice on remerdies not required). I know I will not eat till eight. I know I still have studying to do. I know when I do get home I will have to sit and wait for the kettle to boil.
I have read all your replies as ever – updates received on my phone which is far to difficult to reply on. I am listening even when I don’t answer. I am reading if sporadically your blogs even when I don’t post to your boards. Blah
Yours as broken as ever
The Broken Man
Friday, 23 January 2009
Blue Sky Thinking
Much of what my company is involved in currently is out of the box thinking, they are attempting aspirational integrations with customer expectations by taking a number of ideas and flying them up the flag pole. A lot of this bouncing around of ideas has been enabled by focus groups which are working to step outside their comfort zones and push the boundaries of ways in which we can make sure that everyone is on the core message.
This buzz word strategising has given raise to buzz word bingo – how many unnecessary and meaningless phrases can you slip under the mat before they come up on the radar of the people at the think tank, and are recognised as extraction devises for waste fluids?
Some would of course argue that buzz word bingo should only be played as a team activity, individualism within this "everyone is valued" web of words is of course not encouraged, there is, after all, no I in team.
A little game to play here. Try this there is no “I” game yourself. For example if someone calls a meeting, remind them there is no “U” in meeting. Asked about whether you have work that is needed for a deadline, point out meangfully that there is no Q in work.
Like me you will discover that while this is fun, it gets dull fast. There are however ways to “notch it up a level” to what I like to refer to as “gold standard letter removal”. Comment on letters that are in words – telling people they are not. For example, if some one says “Sorry, can't help you with that” reply in a meaningful way “there is no R in sorry”. If they challenge this reply, say "yes, of course there is a literal R but metaphorically the R is absent” and walk away shaking your head.
Yours, in the locked box under the stairs
The Broken Man
This buzz word strategising has given raise to buzz word bingo – how many unnecessary and meaningless phrases can you slip under the mat before they come up on the radar of the people at the think tank, and are recognised as extraction devises for waste fluids?
Some would of course argue that buzz word bingo should only be played as a team activity, individualism within this "everyone is valued" web of words is of course not encouraged, there is, after all, no I in team.
A little game to play here. Try this there is no “I” game yourself. For example if someone calls a meeting, remind them there is no “U” in meeting. Asked about whether you have work that is needed for a deadline, point out meangfully that there is no Q in work.
Like me you will discover that while this is fun, it gets dull fast. There are however ways to “notch it up a level” to what I like to refer to as “gold standard letter removal”. Comment on letters that are in words – telling people they are not. For example, if some one says “Sorry, can't help you with that” reply in a meaningful way “there is no R in sorry”. If they challenge this reply, say "yes, of course there is a literal R but metaphorically the R is absent” and walk away shaking your head.
Yours, in the locked box under the stairs
The Broken Man
Monday, 5 January 2009
Back to Work
Back to work today and back to some kind of routine, at least for me.
So two weeks on, and what lessons have we learnt?
We have learnt that babies should not drink bath water. That thrashing around in the bath is not a baby's way of saying it is having fun but rather an indication that it is choking and would like to have a bit of a back rub and to spit up the bath water it has drunk.
I have also learnt that Grace is the third most popular baby name in 2008 (In England). This has, of course, left me feeling a little depressed that it’s the name we settled on - I have only ever known one person called Grace and so thought it was a safe bet.
Before the birth of my daughter, people informed me in a knowing way that you can't understand how it will change your life until you have a baby. That it will change the way you see everything and think about everything. That may happen. It may just be a delayed reaction on my part, but parenthood is as I anticipated. We do all the same things, go to the same places, we just have a baby with us when we do so. Admittedly, Grace seems to make herself the centre of attention, and serves as an invitation to strangers to say "hello" – for some reason particually in supermarkets.
While I am not a great fan of people, I have found myself prepared to listen to people telling me how beautiful she is, and I do feel rather splendid wandering around with her in a sling. I am always a little confused when people say “well done” on seeing her. Having a baby doesn’t seem like an achievement I can claim any great credit for. If she turns out to be a wonderful young lady, then I will be able to claim some credit in having brought her up well, but having merely succeded in fathering her, I feel no particualar claim to credit. People seem obsessed with telling me that she either looks like me or her mother, although I suspect that mostly, she looks like a baby.
There also seems to be a bit of a gender obsession. We do not dress her in great swathes of pink and bows. Instead she wears baby grows – mostly those from her aunt and an American friend as they are of a far higher quality than those we have got as hand-me-downs. As such, looking at her with a baby grow on, it is impossible to distinguish her gender. Yet people who refer to her as a "he" seem terribly embarssed when they ask her name and we reveal that she is indeed a she not a he. It does not create any offence on our part at all. If it bothered us we would dress her in pink as that seems to be the cue that makes the gender link for people.
As time goes on we may discover that Grace is a girly girl who likes nothing better than party frocks. Or she might prefer jeans. The choice is hers, and I have no particular desire to impose it on her from such an early age. Such outfits have far to many buttons for my liking anyway. Baby grows are a far easier option.
Ahhh.. I have just thought of one thing that came as a surprise..the number of nappies she gets through. Her record is currently at 16 in one day. We are using reusable washable nappies – which, also to our surprise, take 2-3 days to dry. This is creating a bit of a battle in trying to have enough nappies to get through each day..I did momentarily flirt with a disposable nappy when she ran out – it was a free sample – I put it on her...and, well, it was plastic and nasty in every way, and I couldn’t bring myself to leave her in it, and so it was out with the safety pins and a bit of cloth for an old style nappy as opposed to the Velcro pre shapped reusables.
Well that’s it for now.
Yours as ever,
The Broken Man
So two weeks on, and what lessons have we learnt?
We have learnt that babies should not drink bath water. That thrashing around in the bath is not a baby's way of saying it is having fun but rather an indication that it is choking and would like to have a bit of a back rub and to spit up the bath water it has drunk.
I have also learnt that Grace is the third most popular baby name in 2008 (In England). This has, of course, left me feeling a little depressed that it’s the name we settled on - I have only ever known one person called Grace and so thought it was a safe bet.
Before the birth of my daughter, people informed me in a knowing way that you can't understand how it will change your life until you have a baby. That it will change the way you see everything and think about everything. That may happen. It may just be a delayed reaction on my part, but parenthood is as I anticipated. We do all the same things, go to the same places, we just have a baby with us when we do so. Admittedly, Grace seems to make herself the centre of attention, and serves as an invitation to strangers to say "hello" – for some reason particually in supermarkets.
While I am not a great fan of people, I have found myself prepared to listen to people telling me how beautiful she is, and I do feel rather splendid wandering around with her in a sling. I am always a little confused when people say “well done” on seeing her. Having a baby doesn’t seem like an achievement I can claim any great credit for. If she turns out to be a wonderful young lady, then I will be able to claim some credit in having brought her up well, but having merely succeded in fathering her, I feel no particualar claim to credit. People seem obsessed with telling me that she either looks like me or her mother, although I suspect that mostly, she looks like a baby.
There also seems to be a bit of a gender obsession. We do not dress her in great swathes of pink and bows. Instead she wears baby grows – mostly those from her aunt and an American friend as they are of a far higher quality than those we have got as hand-me-downs. As such, looking at her with a baby grow on, it is impossible to distinguish her gender. Yet people who refer to her as a "he" seem terribly embarssed when they ask her name and we reveal that she is indeed a she not a he. It does not create any offence on our part at all. If it bothered us we would dress her in pink as that seems to be the cue that makes the gender link for people.
As time goes on we may discover that Grace is a girly girl who likes nothing better than party frocks. Or she might prefer jeans. The choice is hers, and I have no particular desire to impose it on her from such an early age. Such outfits have far to many buttons for my liking anyway. Baby grows are a far easier option.
Ahhh.. I have just thought of one thing that came as a surprise..the number of nappies she gets through. Her record is currently at 16 in one day. We are using reusable washable nappies – which, also to our surprise, take 2-3 days to dry. This is creating a bit of a battle in trying to have enough nappies to get through each day..I did momentarily flirt with a disposable nappy when she ran out – it was a free sample – I put it on her...and, well, it was plastic and nasty in every way, and I couldn’t bring myself to leave her in it, and so it was out with the safety pins and a bit of cloth for an old style nappy as opposed to the Velcro pre shapped reusables.
Well that’s it for now.
Yours as ever,
The Broken Man
Tuesday, 18 November 2008
A Broken Blog
HI, this is Broken Man's Wife. Sorry for the long absence - I usually update the blog with Broken Man's scribblings, but for some reason I haven't been able to access it for a while, and Broken Man has only just had the time to fix it so that I can.
So, this is his last blog entry - it is from a few days ago, but hopefully normal service will now be resumed!
A Broken Blog
Today my neck hurts, a lot.
Today work has been hard..
Today I am trying to answer Epicurus paradox without success.
Excuse my silence, when things look black I retreat,
I could pretend it’s to regroup – its not.
I just can't face the world right now
Yours as ever,
The Broken Man
So, this is his last blog entry - it is from a few days ago, but hopefully normal service will now be resumed!
A Broken Blog
Today my neck hurts, a lot.
Today work has been hard..
Today I am trying to answer Epicurus paradox without success.
Excuse my silence, when things look black I retreat,
I could pretend it’s to regroup – its not.
I just can't face the world right now
Yours as ever,
The Broken Man
Thursday, 30 October 2008
Some Days
Some days the world seems so dark. Work seems so hard, and even getting
out of bed feels almost impossible. Sitting at my desk surrounded by
sheets of paper and things to do, the work backlog building up, and
essays sat undone I just want to cry. Its my birthday soon. 33 years
old. Soon to be bankrupt. Today everything seems to much. Some days its
like that.
Yours as ever,
The Broken Man
out of bed feels almost impossible. Sitting at my desk surrounded by
sheets of paper and things to do, the work backlog building up, and
essays sat undone I just want to cry. Its my birthday soon. 33 years
old. Soon to be bankrupt. Today everything seems to much. Some days its
like that.
Yours as ever,
The Broken Man
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