Oh dear
Wednesday, December 13th, 2006A rather unfortunate name for the director of the HIV/Aids department of the World Health Organisation speaking to the BBC in this news bite.
A rather unfortunate name for the director of the HIV/Aids department of the World Health Organisation speaking to the BBC in this news bite.
I don’t think so, greedy buggers!
Been a very mixed sort of day at work.
First thing, and Slave 1 asks if he can have a word. We wander off to one of the free offices.
I am expecting him to tell me he has an interview for the job he applied for just before I went away.
Oh no.
Worse than that.
The interview was last week, and he was offered the job the very next day. He hadn’t received anything in writing yet, but he told me he would be accepting it.
We call in my boss, and tell her that.
I then have a team meeting with my two slaves, and Slave 1 tells Slave 2 he is leaving.
We talk of many things, including my position, and how I still don’t know where I stand regarding the secondment, and whether it will become a permanent job or not. I tell them I am going to ask the boss again this afternoon, in my 1-2-1 with her.
Come my 1-2-1, and me and boss spend the first 15 minutes talking about Slave 1, and how gutted we are that he’s leaving. We talk about advertising the job, and who are possible candidates for the job. We also talk about Slave 2, and how this will be his chance to come out of his shell.
Then she tells me it’s not all bad news, and she is now offering my job on a permanent basis. Apparently she wanted to tell me before I went away, but hadn’t received the full confirmation from HR that she can do that without having to advertise the job again. I don’t care, I am so chuffed. She tells me she is really pleased with what I have done in the three months I have been there. I tell her how much I am still loving it, and that I really feel like I am achieving things. And how sad it is that Slave 1 is leaving, because I felt that the 3 of us were working really well together.
After my 1-2-1, I call the slaves off to the meeting room, to tell them my news.
As we are leaving, Slave 2 says, “Oh, before we go, can I have a word please Woman?”
Oh no.
Oh please no.
But yes.
So. Today, I got offered my job on a permanent basis. And the two people who report to me resigned.
They do assure me that these incidents are in no way related.
I think I was born in the wrong country. I really think I should have been an American. Even my best friend from NYC used to claim I wasn’t really a Brit, I was really from West Texas.
At my (fast approaching middle-) age I still find it incredibly difficult to walk into a bar in Britain on my own. I will do it, don’t get me wrong. I am just not comfortable doing it.
This last week, several times I have walked into a bar - okay, mainly for food, but it has involved sitting in booths as well as at the bar. And every time it has felt ‘right’. And I every time somebody spoke to me.
My friends often used to say it was because I was British, and everyone knows how much the Americans love the British. But it’s not just that. These are people who don’t know where I am from. They haven’t heard me speak. But people - old, young, male, female, straight, gay - all talk to me.
Some guy even stopped me on the street just to declare, “Nice hair!” before walking off, without even giving me chance to reply. He never knew I was British.
Last night I went out in town with the girls from work. It was fun. And, to be fair, some random guy did speak to me. Well, I say speak, but he demanded I dance with him, otherwise he would, “Nick my bag.” But somehow, it just wasn’t the same. It might have had something to do with the fact he could barely speak, he was so pissed. (And yay to my friends for immediately deciding we should leave that bar, and dragged me off).
Back to America.
I even have the card of the waiter who served me in the Hard Rock cafe. You just don’t see that happening over here do you?
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But extremely happy.
Just how much money can one woman spend in 3 days?
Well, I just totalled it up, and including flight, accomodation, parking this end, taxis that end, all my food plus all the clothes I bought came to £900.
Eek.
But bloody hell, I got loads of stuff for that. I have unpacked, and I have bought -
I had to throw away the shoes I took with me, because I didn’t have enough room in my cases to bring them back.
The place I stayed was fantastic. It was basically this old guy with a big house, renting out rooms on a bed and breakfast basis. I was the only guest. Breakfast was held at the top of the house, and every morning we sat chatting, sharing a freshly prepared breakfast (it said continental, but Sunday we had bacon and eggs, Monday was a warm, huge blueberry muffin and Tuesday was french toast) while watching the TV, putting the world to rights.
It even snowed on Monday morning, although not for very long, and it didn’t stick, which was a bit disappointing, as it would have made great pictures.
I had 3 hours sleep this afternoon, and am now trying to decide if I should eat something. I am not that hungry, but I know if I fall asleep, I will wake up in a few hours starving. However, if I eat, it means I won’t sleep for a couple of hours.
Decisions, decisions.
Tonight was the belly dancing Christmas party. It was a lot of fun. I have more pics, but these are all I have time to upload.
Me wearing my hat, and giving it some welly in a veil dance!



After seeing how low the dollar was against the pound today, I have decided a trip to America is in order.
Flight is booked for 3 o’clock on Saturday, and have provisionally booked a B&B for 3 nights.
Boston, here I come!