Posted on 27/09/2005 by haonowshaokao

After my dad had left to take my Nan down to Kent again I got a lift with my step-mum to the train station in Hereford to get down to Cardiff and see Gwen. There was a bit of a wait, so I had coffee in the standard café, which was ruled by a man with a moustache who shouted “the magazines are for buying, this isn’t a library” and scared away the other customers. On the train a group of 20-year-olds sat down next to me and I couldn’t face speaking to them so I listened to Art Brut and after 5 minutes of staring out the window it was too late and I had to ignore them for the next hour.
All was ok when I got to Cardiff, though. Gwen met me at the station and we went around indoor markets and stuff for a bit before getting some fish and chips and taking them back to her house. When it got dark we went to Clwb Ifor Bach, the famous Welsh music place. The décor and music were pretty good and you don’t have to sign a declaration that you are learning to speak Welsh to enter any more. It happened to be freshers’ week Saturday, so the ground floor was packed with paralytically drunk 18-year-old students away from home for the first time. Though there was some good letching material on display we were forced to retreat to the upper floors, which proved to be a good deal more sedate. Afterwards we walked back in the rain, to complete the Welsh experience.
On Sunday we went to a pub nearby to enter the Pop quiz. The venue was a perennial skanky old men’s pub which had recently been refitted to look like an upmarket wine bar, albeit one filled with skanky old men. A phoenix nights style singer with a casio keyboard (and, to be fair, a shamefully wasted perfect-pitch singing voice) entertained the clientele with sixties and seventies covers, then came round with the quiz sheets. The questions were a bit easy, but we couldn’t be bothered to stick around to see if we’d won and instead went off to an Indian restaurant nearby for their unbelievable value £3 buffet.
Gwen suggested we go to investigate the nearby spiritualist church while we were eating. I wasn’t too keen on spending my free time in a church but said ‘ok’ out of a spirit of Louis Theroux curiosity and found myself walking into a room with around 20 other people, most of them pensioners. An old lady got everyone to sing non-denominational hymns for a while, then a casually dressed young medium got up in the podium and gave us a reading from “Chicken Soup For The Soul.” When he was done with that he said he felt a presence wanting to communicate with the gentleman over at the side of the room and pointed at me. He asked if I knew of someone with a heart defect. I said ‘maybe’. He asked me if I’d been moving any furniture. I said ‘maybe’. He asked how I could not be sure if I’d been moving furniture. I said I’d been moving house and might have moved some furniture in the process. He said the spirit knew I was anxious and clumsy and that I’d bumped my head recently on something. I said ‘um… maybe…’ The line of questioning continued for a while before he gave up and said ‘the spirit sends its love’. It is my good fortune that nobody I’ve been close to has ever died, but I didn’t think it would be appropriate to mention it. In fact I wasn’t feeling particularly sure that it was appropriate for me to be intruding upon these people’s genuine beliefs by being there at all. No eyes were on me but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d seriously annoyed the medium and put a dampener on his night and theirs.
After a load of vague spirit communication that didn’t really convince we sat through another couple of hymns and found the event to be over, so I bent over to get my jumper and banged my head hard on the chair in front. I laughed about the prediction with Gwen for a second, then saw the medium throwing me a dirty look and stopped.
We watched Peep Show and Maid Marian for the rest of the evening, then I had a bit of kip, burned some CDs, said goodbye to Gwen and got the train back to Worcester, which took a good 4 hours due to 2 connections being cancelled. I was stuck in Hereford station for two hours, watching the staff make excuses and the passengers slowly turn rebellious.
Now I’m back at my mum’s house for a while, keeping everything tidy for the prospective buyers and sorting out what remains of my affairs. My aeroplane ticket is booked for Portugal next Wednesday.

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Posted on 24/09/2005 by haonowshaokao

I’ve just spent a couple of days at my Dad’s house in the wilds of Herefordshire with my Nana and stepmother here too. It’s been very relaxing and all that – watching DVDs, sitting in the garden looking at the orchards and the hills, eating sizable portions of meat, drinking a fair deal, all that. On Thursday we went across the border into Wales and took a look at the reservoirs in the hills. As we were driving around a hill road a military aeroplane appeared a hundred feet above out heads. It was completely silent, but almost filled the entire sky. It was slower than the car and seemed to fill the valley, tilting narrowly to avoid hillsides as it went. I can’t seem quite explain what an amazing sight it was so instead here’s the composite phot I took from the top of one of the dams:

Clicky here – way too big to just put up

Nan’s gone back down to Kent and i’m off to Cardiff to see Gwen in about an hour.

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Scumhampton remembered.

Posted on 21/09/2005 by haonowshaokao

I’ve already got the feeling that blogging this next couple of months is going to be a constant game of catch-up, so I’d better get the weekend down at least.
For the first time in history my journey from Brighton to Southampton was lacking in any problems whatsoever and I got there on my tight schedule which was wiped out by Southampton Radio Taxis. First they said the cab was on its way, then 15 minutes later they said the cab was on its way and a further 15 minutes later they said they’d never heard of me. It would’ve been less hassle to walk. A pox on them. Cunts.
After that I went out with Ted to Bar Coda for Lamf. That was alright, had a couple of beers and played pool and talked about My Bloody Valentine with Tom from Pellumair. Then we didn’t go to Nexus but went up to The Greene Cellar for another beer, and back to Ted’s.
On Saturday we went over to Dan’s house. It was the first time I’d seen him since his breakdown and sectioning three years ago and though I was bracing myself for a shock he seemed mororless like the Dan I remember, only now I know he’s not joking. We had a good laugh, a few smokes and a reminisce. Listened to some of his new music too, and I have to say there’s a good few hits in there. He’s been through some rough times to say the least, but he seems to be fairly well set up now.
That evening we gave in and went to Goblets to see a whole load of Southampton types, way too many to name check. It was the average Saturday night in Gobs I remember – beer, people milling around, at least one emotional crisis. All the stuff I sometimes feel nostalgic for but usually think of as part of the reason I left the UK in the first place. Lennon’s was better though – the décor, the staff, the music and the quality of the clientele seem to have improved significantly in the last few years, though drinks have remained cheap(ish). Objects were playing and were pretty good and Ally was playing a good selection of Britpop hits.
So that was Southampton, then. Goodbye to all that again. All the best to all the people I met up with, if any are reading, will catch up with you all next time I make it to the UK.
So, on Sunday Mum came to pick me and my stuff up and take both to Worcester, where I’ve been since then, sorting out my possessions. Seems like I’ve been here forever, already. Tomorrow I’m off to my Dad’s place, then down to Cardiff to see Gwen.

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Last few days in Brighton

Posted on 16/09/2005 by haonowshaokao

When I was done with work we had a last house night out at some club called ‘Union’ on the beach. It was alright, nothing too amazing but apparently a whole league above the clubs in Slovakia. The design was good though – a mezzanine with comfy sofas hangs above the dancefloor. Some Australian backpacking girl came over to chat to me at one point but I actually managed to bore her away, slightly worrying. After we went and sat on the beach for a bit, then went home.
On Sunday we were supposed to have a party but as we were still so fucked from the previous night it just ended up being a few drinks with a few people over. Some guy brought some slivovice (Czechoslovak plum moonshine) so I drank some of that and felt even worse the next day, which was unfortunate as it was the last day everyone was in the house and therefore “cleaning day.” I scrubbed every inch of the kitchen on my own for 5 hours, then the girls turned up and packed their stuff and Liam turned up and threw everything in the house away. The landlady spent the day tiling the bathroom herself, evidently with no experience at all. The wall went from having a few loose tiles to being a candidate for one of those TV programmes where they show DIY disasters. She seemed to think it was satisfactory, somehow.
On Tuesday morning the girls went back off to Slovakia. Liam had already vacated the house, so I had it to myself to clean the rest of it. Then on Wednesday I moved what I wanted to keep of my posessions down to Duncan & Amelia’s place, where I’ve been staying these last two days while sorting out what few things I have left into a size small enough to carry.
last night I made a Risotto for D&A. Amelia was a little apprehensive as the previous two meals I made for them gave Duncan gout and her indigestion respectively. But I think it turned out pretty well. They were too tired to go to the Flesh Happening gig in the Engine Rooms so went I with Charlie and drank ale. Then I chatted up this Spanish bird for a while, then found out she was Tim’s girlfriend.
Today I gave in to the laws of physics and biology and sent myself a parcel to avoid breaking my back with the sheer amount of stuff. In an hour I leave Brighton.

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The last ever entry about Lloyds TSB

Posted on 16/09/2005 by haonowshaokao

Ten things I will not miss;
1. Having 25 minutes and 12 seconds break a day.
2. Being reprimanded for going over this time yet getting no compensation for having to stay behind for 15 minutes.
3. Getting stuck with problems that aren’t my responsibility and having to spend ages trying to find someone willing to take over the call.
4. Being outranked by people who know less what they’re doing than I do.
5. Getting home and not wanting to talk to another person for hours.
6. Being unable to get out of the ‘on call’ state of mind.
7. having to constantly apologise and take responsibility for things that are in no way my fault.
8. Being talked down to by pompous, arrogant customers who seem unaware not only that they’re speaking to a human being but also that the human being in question didn’t cause their problem.
9. Having to constantly defend company policy that I utterly disagree with.
10. Having to transfer calls to India, where the staff seem to have received only the most basic training in the English language and the credit card system.
11. Spending 20 minutes working as hard as I can to solve someone’s problem and not getting a word of thanks at the end.
12. The constant ‘dress down day’ mania – three a week is three too many.
13. Having to swipe my entry card three times to get to my desk…
14. Which somebody else has almost always taken.
15. The constant focus on targets.

It was supposed to be 10 but now I’m up to 15 and I could go on.

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Posted on 14/09/2005 by haonowshaokao

My last week in work was the best week since the first one, in terms of entertainment at least, and I didn’t even have to change anyone’s name to “smug twat” and send them a new card to make it so (not that I would do that, just to make that clear.)
The main item of interest was on Thursday, when 48 of us were called into the meeting room on our floor to receive an unexplained talk from the manager of the callcentre. He had news to tell us and it wasn’t exactly good. First he showed everyone a series of powerpoint slides demonstrating that we had a problem with call volumes between 5pm and 8pm due to half the staff going home at 5. Nothing to disagree with there, though the fact stands that the person responsible for planning all the shift changes in June was him. So, what was the solution? “We” could hire more staff, but that would be too expensive, “we” could get people on part time, though that would also be too expensive or “we” could change the shift patterns yet again for those on “flexicontracts.”
What this amounted to was 48 people being told they could either work 12pm-10pm 4 days a week (including some weekends) or, if that wasn’t to their satisfaction, just leave.
This wasn’t popular.
It was entirely clear to everyone in that room that Lloyds rate the well-being of their staff below the normal priority issues of customers, money and regulations and way below the all-consuming religion of the company, “targets”. The target in question this time was the average call queuing time. It had to go down and if sacking competent staff who’ve been through 2 months of training was the easiest and cheapest way to do it then so be it. All praise the lord of targets, he must be obeyed.
One girl was crying, other people were drafting resignation letters as the walked back to their desks. I just wish everyone had had the guts to stage a walkout. They should’ve done, no doubt about that, but these days everyone is resigned to being treated like a slave at work and a customer the rest of the time.
Still, didn’t apply to me. Neither did the one-to-one training session I had on my next-to-last day, but I wasn’t complaining about that. The end was in sight, and tasting sweet. I had planned to just slip out of there, but my team leader got wind of it and got everyone off the phones for five minutes to present me with a card and a round of applause. I wasn’t expecting either, and was surprised to be quite touched by it. They’re generally good people there, such a shame they get treated so shabbily by the management.

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Posted on 07/09/2005 by haonowshaokao

Much in the way of more than hectic preparation for leaving the seaside for the foreseeable future, most of it too dull to list.
If anyone is passing through Brighton and wants a globe please do mail me. It needs a home.
Liam and the girls were away in Italy and Spain respectively this last weekend so I would have had the house to myself if it hadn’t been for the presence of Natalia’s Slovakian friends who were staying in the room below me. Fortunately the landlady didn’t find them in there while she was cleaning up the house and breaking the garden furniture in preparation for showing people round. They kept themselves to themselves except on Saturday afternoon when exited my bedroom in the early afternoon to find them both standing outside trying their hardest to bring themselves to knock on my door.
Back to work again, for the last week. The prospect of not being there next week makes the job about 90% more bearable.

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Posted on 04/09/2005 by haonowshaokao

I forgot to post my experiences at Lost Vagueness a few weeks back but now I’ve got Amelia’s photos to give a home to I’m dragging the review out of the archive to post up here (and backdate in a week or something)

On the Friday I woke up at the completely unreasonable hour of 7.30 to check the details one last time before I caught my bus to the festival and found that I’d got everything utterly and ludicrously wrong. Somehow it had got into my head that I was supposed to be there at 10 or 11 when the time in the e-mail was clearly 9am. I phoned in to work and said I was sick, then ran down the hill and leapt in the first available taxi, which ended up costing me a whole £20. Got to the site at 8.30 and found I was by far the first person there. Evidently the bus wouldn’t have been such a bad idea after all. Ah well, £18 down the drain.

After a lengthy wait another steward called Duncan turned up and we went off to find the Stewards’ tent, which turned out to be in completely the opposite corner from where we had been directed. Got a staff armband and went off to pitch Liam’s tent, lay down for a bit, got told to move it as I was in the caravan area, moved the fucking tent behind a thistle patch, lay down and dozed for a while. At 11 I went over to check out the stewarding situation but failed to bag a place on the first shift, so strolled off back to my tent and on the way got a phone-call. I assumed it was from Amelia and pressed answer only to find my boss on the other end of the line.
Oops.
Still, think I got away with it. There weren’t any bands playing at that particular moment so I could feasibly have been in my back garden.
Duncan, Amelia and Charlie all turned up a bit later so I escorted them from the car with their massive tents, eggs and egg-cooking equipment. When they were up we had some egg mayonnaise sandwiches and looked at the thistles for a bit, then went for a little stroll round the grounds before my shift started at 6.
Instead of noodle stalls there were the ‘Mystery Meat’ stand and the ‘Sympathy Tent’ –

And here’s Duncan and Charlie, while it was still sunny –

My first job was to stand around at a farm gate telling people they ‘couldn’t come past, no, not even if you’re staff,’ which was alright briefly, while I had someone else on shift with me, then deeply, deeply dull as evening set in and I was stuck hanging off a fence in the dark on my own with nothing happening and nobody coming anywhere near. The only drama happened when I refused entry to three bands, including the headline act (They were called Ska Cubano but I thought they said ‘Skaky Bano’, I dunno) and when the farmer’s wife turned up with her three daughters, all in ball gowns, and chatted to me for a bit. Eventually the ‘Love Patrol’ brought me a torch, just in time for me to hand over to some other sucker.
There was time for a brief dash back to the tent to get suited and booted, then I headed over to the casino for the mass wedding. The casino was only accessible after a ten minute queue in the ballroom after which you had to be looked over and sniffed at by a gigantic drag queen. I found everyone sitting around after a minute and then watched the mass wedding. Duncan married Amelia and Charlie married Kate. It was all very emotional.
Duncan and Amelia in wedding getup –

Charlie and kate and some other people –

And other people who were around –

Afterwards we went to the diner, talked to some people, played pinball, danced, etc. It was a good night but I was exhausted and unable to catch up with the inebriation, so I went off to kip, then woke at 6 when Amelia tried to give me some tea and at 8 so I could phone in another sickie. This one wasn’t quite so convincing but as it was to an answering machine it wasn’t any big deal.
I spent my food voucher on a burned bun with a ‘vegetable pattie’ inside and a coffee. The guy serving would have won the ‘most fucked of the festival’ award even if he hadn’t been at work. I did the same job as him at a load of festivals but never got to the point of rocking backwards and forwards, gurning, with twenty people waiting to be served. It took him two minutes to work out how much change he needed to give me (a pound) and he still didn’t put any sugar in my coffee. What a character.
I returned to work at mid-day, this time guarding the crew camping with a girl called Dominique. It wasn’t a bad job for the first couple of hours, but then the clouds came out, the wind began to chill and, inevitably, the rain began. When you’re at home the rain can go un-noticed, at a festival it seems catastrophic. Having to stand out in the open while it rains, thinking about how you haven’t pegged your tent down properly, well, put a bit of a negative slant on the afternoon. Thankfully friendly types with bottles of brandy came by from time to time, which helped a bit.
40 minutes after our shift was supposed to end we were allowed to finish, so I said goodbye to Dominique and started the evenings fun by finding Amelia and Charlie asleep in the tent with the flap open and the rain coming in. I zipped them up and went off to buy a raincoat, at which point it stopped raining.
I left them to sleep for a while and went off to the ballroom, where an attractive woman was on stage taking all her clothes off and having sex with stuffed toys while 3-10 year old children sat around the side of the stage silently staring at her. Then I walked back and found Tim and Duncan here –

Here’s Tim in his Indian getup –

And me in my gangster suit –

Everyone got up and ready eventually and we went off to the casino again to have a bit of a boogie. It was a good night, though I couldn’t seem to get drunk no matter how hard I tried. Still, there were some good trapese types –

Everywhere we went there were these three women sharing a pair of knickers –

And lots of pictures of other people –

I met a girl who had been getting past me while I was stewarding all afternoon without a wristband. She’d said it had broken off and she was getting it sorted out, but as I wasn’t an official any more confessed that she’d actually broken in. I spent the first hour talking to her and an actually pretty cool woman in her forties who was stewarding too.

Someone sat on one of these pinball machines shortly after this picture and destroyed it. That they escaped without getting a huge chunk of glass up their arse is merely a lucky break –

Duncan, Charlie and me –

When I’d finished with those two I found the gang again and we had some balloons full of nitrous oxide. Which was funny.

Then some band started who sounded like Reef so we went off to the diner again and then back to the tents to have a smoke.
Sunday morning I felt and looked like crap. Packed my stuff up, hitched a lift back with some lesbian flappers and got home for a long bath.

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Posted on 02/09/2005 by haonowshaokao

I’m working my last set of evening shifts this week and won’t be sad to see them go. At one point I got the idea into my head that starting at 2pm would give me the morning free to do whatever I want. Instead it has given me the morning free to sleep and, at a push, eat breakfast. At 2 I walk to work in the baking heat with my winter coat and try to find a free desk in the call-centre. Then at 5, when I’m not in the least bit hungry, I get my, um, “lunch break”. The last couple of hours are pretty dead so I take the chance to type up old notes. And this. At least something productive is coming out of this experience.

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Posted on 01/09/2005 by haonowshaokao

Exactly two weeks to go now until my (currently missing) landlady turfs me out onto the (this time metaphorical) street. What remains of my (saleable) possessions are up on ebay, the remainder to be taken down the market next week. This all feels good. Everything feels good. The office feels good, the world feels good, people, um, feel good. Everything seems more manageable when it has a clear and immediate end date.
After a farewell party and a possible trip to Scumhampton I’ll get my mum down to give me a lift up to Worcester, picking up some other things from brokenjoystick on the way. Mum’s got a job in Harrow this month, so the Worcester house I spent my teenage years in is up for sale.
Everyone seems to be moving on.

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