Things that are my fault in the cinema

Hello! It’s me, your friendly cinema assistant. Just so we’re on the same page, I’d like to stand up and declare the things that are my fault. You may shout and swear and be passive aggressive at me for any or all of the following:

• Our chip & pin machines not working properly
• The Great Expectations literature (and the show’s own website) not stating whether or not it is indeed a musical
• The queueing system
• The opening times
• Problems with your membership
• Lack of information about other business’s events
• Which films are (and are not) showing
• Films selling out
• The papers printing the wrong show times
• Your debit card not being signed
• The mess left by a previous audience being bad enough that it’s not completely invisible in the ten-minute turnaround before you enter the screen
• The no-phone policy, which, by the way, we’re pretty lenient on at the moment. Giving you two warnings is pretty generous considering you’re openly using a bright white lit, noise-making recording device inside a screen, taking calls during a showing, or calling people inside a screen to find out where they are because you are late (another rule we’re pretty lenient with.) Phones are a whole other sea of nonsense on their own.
• The design of the building, which manifests itself in numerous demons – lack of heating, too much heating, not enough light, too much light, not enough leg room, the toilets being downstairs, etc…
• The toilets being a complete death-hole from the last round of customers coming out of a showing at once, two minutes ago, since which time I have been cleaning their mess upstairs in the screen.
• Someone sitting next to you in a screen
• You arriving too late for the breakfast menu
• You not reading the small print
• You not having ID
• You not having proof of concession
• Your bitter, ugly home life
• The prices of food and drink. (We’re a cinema. Walk one minute to the nearest newsagent if you really care.)
• The snow
• The film not being to your taste
• Our lack of internet cafe
• Our terrible wifi signal
• My not having been warned that you were a wheelchair user, and that I needed to take out two seats, which I am now doing alone, with an ill-sized tool, during the trailers. You’re right, I’m just doing this to show you how much I hate disabled people.
• Your hearing impairment and apparent lack of any alternative such as sign language or hearing aid
• Your intolerance to not only dairy, but everything stocked by a standard bar
• Orange not sending you a 241 code
• Cineworld buying us out
• The toilets flooding
• The basement flooding
• Everything that happened before I came on shift
• Release dates
• Booking dates
• Your having travelled “3,000 miles” (This was actually said last night, I exaggerate not) to see a film without booking, and it now being sold out at fifteen minutes into the twenty-minute trailer grace period.
• The fact that you can’t book specific seats for showings before 5pm.
• Someone else sitting in your seat
• You can’t tell where the door is for the bar
• We have nowhere to put external advertising

Coming soon… Things I love hearing from cinema customers! #1 “Did you know there’s a spider in the pin machine?”

25 Things About My Family

I spent Christmas at Home with my family in 2012, for the first time in about five or six years. It was an absolute joy being amongst people so like-minded, whom you have that connection with which will never fade. That wonderful level of understanding. Having an impromptu holiday of two weeks is just wonderful, and I didn’t even succumb to the temptation to do work while I was there. To keep that at bay, I did do a little exercise in procrastination. I give you, 25 things about my family:

1. My mum was an editor of a TEFL magazine, and a TEFL teacher. She tried going back to teaching English in the last several years, but the updated training was quite dragged-out. I think what topped it off was her placement in the local secondary school. The place where my year 5 induction day saw chips and doughnuts for lunch, and a group of us being shut in the sandpit. (Who has a sandpit at a secondary school anyway?)

2. My great grandmother was Thai. My mum went on a sort of month-long pilgrimage to Thailand to see what it was all about a few years ago, and I’d like to do the same one day.

3. I think my brother is the best man I’ve ever met. Not the baby one, he hasn’t proved himself yet, but the only-slightly-younger one. I tend to measure people (men, at least) against him. Sense of humour, spirituality, maturity. We’re in tune.

4. My brothers’ names lend themselves very well to Winnie The Pooh shortenings; Reuben = Roo, Tiernan (meaning ‘Tiger man’, apparently) = Tigger. I suppose that makes me Eyeore.

5. Every one of us (except my brother) seems to have a kind of inferiority complex and a slight bitterness about being working class.

6. Every one of us has been cheated on.

7. My dad, predictably, hates my tattoo.

8. My brother talks to me when he’s serious about love. I appreciate it.

9. My mum believes in fairies and the Catholic Saints. To this day, Saint Anthony works for me for finding lost things.

10. My dad’s worst habit is saying, “Um…” as you’re leaving the room, and then making you wait once you’ve come back, before he finishes the sentence.

11. My brother has a Forest of Dean accent, while my parents and I have pretty non-regional ones.

12. My auntie apparently practices a form of witchcraft.

13. My other auntie was adopted. She and her husband dine with Charles and Camilla.

14. My mum has written hundreds of poems, which she has never shown to many, if any, people.

15. My step-mum’s cousins are The Magic Numbers.

16. My mum uses text slang. It makes me feel sick.

17. My parents were always older than of all my friends’ parents, but people always commented on how young they looked.

18. One year, we all stood in my grandparents’ back garden, along with quite a gathering of their friends, in Cradley Heath, to watch two blocks of flats get blown up. I think someone even filmed it.

19. To my knowledge, I am the first one interested in theatre, or the arts at all as a career.

20. I was supposed to be a Clark. Both my parents changed their names when marrying, and took the name of my grandmother’s maiden name, because they liked it.

21. My maternal grandmother wrote, and published under a pseudonym which was her real name spelt backwards. She consequently got fan mail addressed to, “Our little Indian writer, Duam Semaj”.

22. My dad always grew vegetables, in London and in the Forest, and cooked with his homegrown produce, which was always delicious.

23. My parents ran an alternative health practise together in London. Ben Elton came and interviewed them once, and made fun of it.

24. My mum’s sister is the head of what I deem a perfect family unit.

25. My mum’s first heard words were apparently, “Oh botheration with you!” Up till that moment she had stayed silent in front of her parents, but had been coming home and teaching her younger sister what she had been taught in school each day. This was in response to my auntie not understanding the current lesson.

Slipshod Sugary Female Thinking

(… Thank you, Mary Poppins.)

This year’s greatest achievement so far…

Happy new year! A pinch and a punch for the first of the month, and no returns. And other traditional nonsense.

Today I am filled with excitement and optimistic energy for the coming year. I feel rested. I have had a rare week off, with absolutely no agenda, so sleeping and enjoying oneself have taken vital priority over the Christmas period. I am sitting here watching A View to a Kill with a good friend and the dog, and probably going to watch The Hobbit for the second time later on. Banana bread has just come out of the oven, (my second batch in two days; I intend to cook more from now on) the house is clean thanks to my brand new Henry, and I have furniture and finishing touches for my bedroom on order. I am wearing Mary Shelley around my neck.

For the first time in about five years, this year I went ‘home’ for Christmas. When I say home, (I have a few hometowns) I mean the Forest of Dean (or rather, Gloucester this time, as little bro’s all grown up now and has a place of his own, where I stay) and then Ivybridge, in Plymouth. I got to see my mum and oldest younger brother, (twenty-three) which was lovely, and then my dad, step-mamma and baby brother, (nine months) which was just as lovely, and different. Christmas was a quiet, subdued affair compared to the drinking, music, large family gatherings and games that I have been used to.

In the place of forced tradition and routine and scheduled fun, we spent our time ambling around at a leisurely (very, including the spa day mamma took me on) pace, doing exactly as we all wished, eating, walking, watching films, and going to look at animals (perhaps a trivial-sounding activity but oh-so-revered in my humble view – visiting Pets At Home is something I like to do regularly, just for a quick fix of furry company.)

I taught baby bro to wave, which he apparently now does at Guinevere on Merlin, (they think she must sound a bit like me) and anyone who waves on TV. He’s a bit of a screen-lover, and grabs at phones whenever they’re in sight. He loves Skype, and phonecalls, and seems to respond to familiar voices now, which is absolutely lovely. He has skipped crawling and gone straight to walking while holding onto nearby thumbs. He loves being outdoors and near water, and squeals every time a dog goes past. A man after my own heart. I had a great time staying with them and can’t wait to go back. Saying goodbye was actually quite hard, simply because I remember how far away I am.

Last night, per tradition of a few years, I spent new year’s eve with a bunch of my closest friends up North, drinking and catching up and dancing like fools to nostalgic tunes from our teenage years. I was then, and am now, filled with warmth and gratitude for what and whom I have around me, because it’s all pretty damn great.

A few things I will take from 2012:

• Day-jobs are okay as a part-time compliment to your true passion. You can benefit from different kinds of work bringing respite from each other, and challenging and exercising you in different ways.
• Sometimes, love is not enough.
• I am capable of change, but I find it quite incomprehensible until it happens.

And I think that’s enough for now. :) I am going into 2013 with an open mind and heart, and a bit of slipshod sugary female thinking. I wish peace, love, health and happiness for you all.

2012 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 3,700 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 6 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.

On Hot and Cold

I am interested in vibes. How and what kind of vibes we put out into the world, and how those vibes attract reaction from others. In particular, I have noticed these vibes more since my latest relationship ended about four months ago. I’ve heard that when you come out of a long relationship, you experience a sort of release of energy, and you give off the ‘freshly single’ vibe, (Sorry, this sounds a bit horrid, but I couldn’t think of a better way to put it) attracting the attention of potential love interests like a dog on heat (So sorry.)

And I can well imagine this. What I was not prepared for, though, was the amount of back-and-forth attention that came my way. Somehow I seem to have been presented with more complication than when I was at the end of my relationship. Attention came, yes, but it came and went. Ebbed and flowed. More than one person has shown interest in me, to the point where it seemed like they might do something about it, and then just as quickly seemingly changed their mind. What is this about? Do I just smell bad up close? I’d love it to be that simple. But, of course, it probably isn’t.

I find it a bit tedious playing games with people myself. If I want something, I say so. Maybe that’s boring. Maybe my sense of evolved, civilised romancing is underdeveloped. Maybe I’m old before my time. But I just can’t be bothered. It actually puts me off people in a big way. People are complimenting me and then finding a way to retract the sentiment, which is just rude where I’m from. Unless the retraction is made in an obviously ingenuous, silly way that conveys even more heartfelt affection than the compliment itself. In which case, we probably get on pretty well…

If you’re going to make me feel special just to take it away again, you can keep your mouth shut in the first place, thanks. I’m quite happy receiving no attention at all, especially if this is the alternative. Don’t get me wrong, I’m open to positive attention and love. I have a lot of love for my friends and dear ones. But what’s happening at the moment is kind of equivalent to a three-year-old handing you something they’ve made, as a present, and then before you’ve figured out what it is, taking it away again.

It’s not even just a two-step story. The attention comes, goes, comes back again. The hot and cold runs for a while. I’m aware that everyone changes their mind about other people, and respect that right, but there are respectful ways to handle those changes, which aren’t being exercised.

Maybe I’ve  been off the market too long to understand. Maybe I just don’t get people. But I am starting to think it’s me. I must be giving off some pretty strange vibes.

One thing I’ve always noticed, freshly-single or not, is that I do not often attract honorable attention. I have banter, other people’s boyfriend’s flirt with me; (Not yours, don’t worry) generally people err on the side of inappropriate with me. Apparently my Dad always found himself in love traingles when he was younger. We seem to follow patterns. Perhaps mine is because I am quite straightforward and not easily offended, and enjoy a good sense of humour. I’m down to earth and take a lot in my stride, even if I pretend not to for the sake of conversation. (Does that kind of cancel out what I just said about being straightforward? Whoops. I guess truth is contradiction.) I am fairly free. An open book. I’m blogging about my love life for goodness’ sake. But that doesn’t work with everyone.

You can certainly have that kind of relationship with some. But at the moment, in my life, it feels like it’s everyone. That’s unfair. A majority. What am I doing wrong? What does it take to project a vibe of wifeyness as opposed to half-hearted mess-around? I don’t mean that as it sounds. I don’t want to be a wife right now. But that kind of honorable, respectful, I-like-who-you-are-and-want-to-impress-and-protect-you attention is missing from my life. It’s not always necessary, and I think maybe all this strangeness (aside from being a fascinating open lesson in human behaviour) is a good sign that I could actually benefit from some time away from any attention.

It’s not as if I find myself in one-night-stands either. I don’t tend to put myself in situations in which they are a likely outcome. But I find it bizarre to be stuck in the middle. No Man’s Land. This is not a woe-is-me post. Just a pondering.

What it all makes me want to do is retreat a little bit. Stop being so open. Remember that time when I only talked about relationships once they were established and going well. (Maybe I should stop blogging, even.) Stop consulting with friends, reading between the lines, and conversing via written word as opposed to in person. Regress to a simpler time.

So what is this post about? What is the point? Perhaps just a kindly ask that people be respectful in matters of the heart. Be gentle with each other, and be honest. I think that’s one thing that could make the world a better place.

Related articles

• Feel Better: use your vibes (joystreamhealth.wordpress.com)

Countdown to a new era

This is what it says on the tin. A countdown to: My housemates moving out, and new ones moving in. I am staying put in my cosy attic room of this beautiful Edwardian townhouse, while my friends move on. One is buying a house for the first time with her boyfriend with whom she is madly in love, to settle in a perfect little area near shops, parks and schools, to eat romantic meals off the unfinished floor in something rough and ready that they will make completely their own. She will spend even more time making jewellery and being herself. The other two are finally moving in together alone, in what sounds like a perfect little flat avec balcony, fairly (though not enough) nearby.
I am staying put, despite my contrary plans of earlier this year, and other friends are moving in here with me. I am excited, but tonight it hit me just how soon it is all happening, and I could not help but slip into sentimentality. I must grieve the loss of the three people I am currently closest to, before I never have this wonderful set-up again. At least, not with them. I know what is coming will be good, but it will be so different.

25/10/12
In two weeks, I won’t stop halfway up my stairs in deep conversation with the girls, eventually sitting down and taking my bag off, accepting that despite my OCD/autistic tendencies, this moment of connection and friendship is worth more than my sleep. Rocky will never run up my stairs again. She probably won’t even come past the bathroom again, which is the first door on the landing. Cat’s light won’t be on when I come in from work, and we won’t get those delightful random-chance catch ups before conjoined evenings of tea, homework and regaling tales of our pasts that are unknown to each other. I will not hear Calvin come in with his music playing in his headphones, pat-pat-clank (broken tile in the hall), make himself a drink and then head upstairs, ignoring Rocky’s desperate pleas for his attention so that we can pretend to be asleep when he enters the room we’re in. He will not be there to humour us.

26/10/12
Where in fuckety are my kitchen scissors? Maybe I won’t miss these bastards after all.

01/11/12
Rocky, Cat and Julia came to meet me in the bar at my work. We had drinks and laughed a lot. Julia set her bag on fire. Rocky and I came home and sat on the stairs together, cracking up at the outtakes on my voice recorder from when she tried to tape herself reading a piece of comedy she wrote. Calvin didn’t find it half as funny as we did. It was one of those had-to-be-there type things that will entertain only us, but will entertain us forevermore.

15/11/12

They have been gone just over a week now. The house is pretty bare.

15/12/12

It is done. The first of my old housemates dissipated over a month ago, and a few weeks later, the last joined them on the other side of the city. The house is now full again with my new housemice, and a doggy who’s keeping me company as I finish off this post. The place feels homelier already. I am grateful for the art on the walls, the mess everywhere, the lights on and the live television. Everyone is really chilled and down to earth, and we all look after each other. This is the best situation I could hope for at my age. Of course I miss seeing the oldies on a daily basis, but hopefully this will just push us to make more effort to create social time for each other.

Read All About It

Don’t worry, York
You don’t have to go outside today
Read
All
About it
There’s frost, quite a lot,
People breathing like dragons,
No snow,
Though there is something speckled in the air,
Maybe it’s trying to snow, maybe someone’s ashes have gone astray
Steam rises from the river in a Dickensian manner, bleak yet cosy in its familiarity,
Don’t worry, don’t look, just
Read
All
About it
There’s a man on the footbridge
Taking pictures
But I won’t do the same
My descriptions should suffice
If they don’t, your imagination is due an update.
It should be enough to just
Read
All
About it
I contemplate Dickens and fog
as I descend the steps at the other end
A man appears, passes
Smoking a pipe
Swinging his right arm in a controlled way
Adding to his drama
Which is swiftly detracted from by his beanie hat and backpack
Though I still enjoy him.
Don’t leave your homes, don’t leave your Facebook,
Read
All
About it.