I've just remembered I told myself I'd update this at about 4pm this afternoon, and I've only just got round to it. Current time is 1:20am.
Anyway, just a quick one I suppose, to keep this battered, ancient, coughing old blog up and running. This weeked was an absolute scorcher, perfect for cricket, but I wasn't really in the mood. I'd spent all week running around, trying to get a full team together, (of which I finally acheived late on Friday evening), and after a whole week of the post-birthday blues, plus the fact the muggy weather had crept up on me, making me feel more tired... Yeah. I wasn't feeling too good.
So to turn up on Saturday afternoon, after a busy morning at work, to find the club not open at all, half an hour before the scheduled start notched up my "angry meter" a little more... How many more incompetent moments am I going to take before I finally quit that club? I've tried to look for excuses to go somewhere else in the past year or so, before telling myself that all I want to do is get a good game. Being captain for both sides guarantees this, so I end up staying. Despite having to put up with the infuriating "Director of Cricket"...
Anyway. After a hullabaloo of phone calls, we opened up and got up-and-running, albeit 20 minutes late. I won the toss, (a rarity), and chose to bat. Fielding would be much easier when it was cooler in the early evening, rather than the burning heat of the afternoon sun. My fellow opener, usually reliable, was cleaned up in the first over, which was probably the point I woke up and realised someone was going to have to step up to the plate. Our batting order was weak, and I couldn't see anyone else scoring the serious runs needed to win a cricket match. So I knuckled down. TK and I put on a decent partnership of 90, before he ballooned one up in the air, and was soon followed by Mr.Cox and Raj, (on his debut), and then we were in a slight bit of trouble. I had yet to reach my 50 when Cameron came in, but he played a few trademark slogs, around me still nudging the 1s and 2s, ticking it over, playing the anchor role. I make it sound much harder than it actually was. I received a polite round of applause from the boundary rope as I reached my first 50 of the season, but I barely acknowledged them. Half of this was knowing that I was once again in a good position to go on to my 3rd ton. The other half was simply because I couldn't be bothered. I was bored. The bowling was rubbish, I had more chance of getting out than being snapped up by Roy Hodgson to go to Euro 2012. I was only out there batting, only because the alternative was umpiring, and I know which one I'd choose.
So. Cameron stayed in for a while, followed by someone I can't remember and then a few trademark whacks from Sofee, all around me, still nudging 1s and 2s, even if I had hit a few boundaries by now. It wasn't until the 41st over, when I still hadn't reached my ton, when the number 11 batsman was walking to the wicket. It was only at this time where I really wanted the ton, knowing I was very close only to be left high and dry wouldn't have been a nice feeling. So I told young Shaun to give me the strike, and the next over, I nurdled a trademark single to deep(ish) mid wicket, and received a rapturous cheer from the boundary. A 3rd ton, of which I was pleased with, but, unlike my 50, was genuinely too mentally knackered to celebrate properly, so simply held my bat aloft... A bit tame really... Shaun got out to the last ball of the innings, and I was left not out on 124. I had decided, that after getting to my 100, I was just going to slog, and hit a few more boundaries. It's a new high score though, and another target to beat. I was pleased.
We won't talk about Sunday's performance...
The start to this week has been distinctly average. A slow afternoon at work and a simply atrocious performance on the snooker table led to a convincing defeat to CC, but never mind. I have a long week ahead, but 2 things are keeping me going.
1) I'm going to Newcastle, (hopefully), on 8th June with Beddoe, Marriott and the recently injured Colin... Hence the "hopefully" part...
2) Most of the University friends, (i.e. most of my best friends), are soon to be returning for a Summer of non-stop fun. And we all know I love a bit of that...!
Tuesday 29 May 2012
Tuesday 22 May 2012
A Change of Age
So, I'm 21 years old and I have to say I have had a largely enjoyable and successful elongated birthday weekend, with many happy and joyful moments. Friends and family joined in and a good time was had by all.
It all started on Friday I suppose, when the Family Mitten drove to a lovely country pub called 'The Green Man' in Olney, Buckinghamshire, England, Europe, The Earth to enjoy the most amazing slap-up meal I have ever encountered. We had a laugh and a joke, I consumed free Jack Daniels and the Canadian waiter was the joker in the pack, so as family occasions go, this was certainly a good one.
I was in a good place on that Friday evening. I had a whole weekend off in front of me, filled with what was going to be a whole weekend of cricket and socialising, around people making an extra effort to make it special for you. You always have to appreciate that.
Saturday morning then appeared, and after a lot of overnight rain, it looked as if the first instalment of the cricketing weekend was touch and go. Seeing as I am captain these days, including Organiser-in-Chief, I went down to do a pitch inspection and decided that we were fine to play. The match itself was on the frustrating side, bordering infuriating, as players I had picked deciding to turn up late without telling me, making us look incredibly "village", (beware of cricket terms). After half an hour of 'faffing around', we got down to business, and restricted Great Barford to a total of 182, which was above par for the swamp we were playing on. We only managed 150 in reply, with myself getting a meagre 10 of those, meaning my usual start-of-season stupor had yet to be surpassed. In all fairness though, after the frustration of the day, I was looking forward to going home and watching the Champions League Final with Kettle and enjoying a Dominos! We then went out with Marriott, (already a wee bit tipsy from celebrating Chelsea's win) and enjoyed a good night! Many had presumed I was to go all out, considering it was the "Big 2-1", but I genuinely think I am passed the days of going nuts on a night out. These 'Jagerbomb Tricks' and shots of Wray are the acts of teenagers. I'm getting old you see, and genuinely feel like I cannot handle these antics anymore!
When I got home, at roughly 3 o'clock in the morning, I was presented with a house covered in '21' banners and flags. Despite the claims I am "too old for this", I was of course a bit drunk, so laughed as I opened the front door, and went upstairs to see a bunch of '21' balloons littering my bed. The idea being that if I was THAT drunk, I would lie on them and they would pop, making me have a heart attack. Nice thinking Sister Mitten, but it wasn't to be. However, it is incredible that after all the mess that I've put them all through the last few years, that they still make the effort to make my birthdays special. I went to sleep, for the 2nd night in a row, with a smile on my face.
I awoke on Sunday morning, hangover-less, (which is a nice feeling isn't it!), and went downstairs to a chorus of 'Happy Birthday'! I opened the cards I had received, along with its contents of a bit of much-needed money and also a very thoughful gift from Sister Mitten of a pair of VIP tickets for a tour of Lord's cricket ground. The majority of the day though, I have to admit, was annoying. Nothing to do with birthday events, but instead the cricket match I was playing in. I had been left as captain again, because our usual captain has some strange arrangement meaning he can't play "unless we're very desperate". I was left thinking how desperate we needed to be before he played, because at the official start time of 2pm, we had a grand total of 8 players. Although we batted first, (with me getting my season going with a patient 48), by the time we went out to field, we still had 8 players. Defending 165 was possible with a full team, but it is impossible to win with 8, and we were comfortably beaten. I was left pondering whether I had wasted a complete day, my 21st birthday, by playing for a side that no one can be bothered to turn out for. If it happens again, I'm moving on. I can't be doing with chasing players every single game because the communication is so poor.
I went home a little bit grumpy, but told myself there was little I could do about it and reflected on the positives. I had finally got some runs, and hopefully next weekend will be better! With the forecast finally set to 'Summer', it will at least be warmer!
And then we come to today. I woke up incredibly late, and effectively spent the day walking round town and then enjoying a game of snooker with CC, where I squandered a 4-1 lead to draw 4-4 before we were kicked out for closing time. Since I have got home though, realising that the end of my mini-holiday has come to an end, I have started feeling bad again...
It's almost as if I am allergic to work. Ever since I left at 1.30pm last Wednesday, I have been happy, (forgetting the frustrations of cricket), but the last few hours have been ABSOLUTE torture. I don't mind going to work. Of course, I have little choice. It has to be done. But last week, I learnt more procedures I now have to follow, on my own, and once again, I am left feeling unbelievably anxious and terrified of getting it wrong. When I say 'terrified', I don't mean 'a little nervous', I mean terrified beyond belief. I have spent the last couple of hours lying in the darkness telling myself that these things haven't happened yet, and I'm worrying over nothing but I CANNOT forget about it. I hate it. I absolutely despise myself for it, yet there is nothing I can do except "manage it". That is what I call it. "Managing it". Reminding myself that there are good times and bad, good stages and bad stages and, "It'll be alright", but throughout the times where I think this, I can't get past the "what ifs" and the "worst possible scenario" thing that goes on in my destroyed brain. What if tomorrow, I send off £30k instead of £20k, inputting it wrong on the system, and sending the whole office into disarray? What if I miscount something and roll over the figures completely out of shape? What if a customer comes along with yet another new type of form and I am left floundering at what the hell to do with it? What if... What if... What if... It sounds childish, silly and pathetically sad, but I'm bordering on tears at the prospect of an awful day that has the potential, however small, to actually happen.
I might now be 21 years of age, but sometimes I really do wish I was back at school. No one expected you to single handedly run 2 cricket teams. No one expected you to act responsibly at all times, and most importantly, no one expected you to be solely responsible for the destination of a huge amount of money, and expect you to do it perfectly. Growing up is bloody well difficult.
And I hate it.
It all started on Friday I suppose, when the Family Mitten drove to a lovely country pub called 'The Green Man' in Olney, Buckinghamshire, England, Europe, The Earth to enjoy the most amazing slap-up meal I have ever encountered. We had a laugh and a joke, I consumed free Jack Daniels and the Canadian waiter was the joker in the pack, so as family occasions go, this was certainly a good one.
I was in a good place on that Friday evening. I had a whole weekend off in front of me, filled with what was going to be a whole weekend of cricket and socialising, around people making an extra effort to make it special for you. You always have to appreciate that.
Saturday morning then appeared, and after a lot of overnight rain, it looked as if the first instalment of the cricketing weekend was touch and go. Seeing as I am captain these days, including Organiser-in-Chief, I went down to do a pitch inspection and decided that we were fine to play. The match itself was on the frustrating side, bordering infuriating, as players I had picked deciding to turn up late without telling me, making us look incredibly "village", (beware of cricket terms). After half an hour of 'faffing around', we got down to business, and restricted Great Barford to a total of 182, which was above par for the swamp we were playing on. We only managed 150 in reply, with myself getting a meagre 10 of those, meaning my usual start-of-season stupor had yet to be surpassed. In all fairness though, after the frustration of the day, I was looking forward to going home and watching the Champions League Final with Kettle and enjoying a Dominos! We then went out with Marriott, (already a wee bit tipsy from celebrating Chelsea's win) and enjoyed a good night! Many had presumed I was to go all out, considering it was the "Big 2-1", but I genuinely think I am passed the days of going nuts on a night out. These 'Jagerbomb Tricks' and shots of Wray are the acts of teenagers. I'm getting old you see, and genuinely feel like I cannot handle these antics anymore!
When I got home, at roughly 3 o'clock in the morning, I was presented with a house covered in '21' banners and flags. Despite the claims I am "too old for this", I was of course a bit drunk, so laughed as I opened the front door, and went upstairs to see a bunch of '21' balloons littering my bed. The idea being that if I was THAT drunk, I would lie on them and they would pop, making me have a heart attack. Nice thinking Sister Mitten, but it wasn't to be. However, it is incredible that after all the mess that I've put them all through the last few years, that they still make the effort to make my birthdays special. I went to sleep, for the 2nd night in a row, with a smile on my face.
I awoke on Sunday morning, hangover-less, (which is a nice feeling isn't it!), and went downstairs to a chorus of 'Happy Birthday'! I opened the cards I had received, along with its contents of a bit of much-needed money and also a very thoughful gift from Sister Mitten of a pair of VIP tickets for a tour of Lord's cricket ground. The majority of the day though, I have to admit, was annoying. Nothing to do with birthday events, but instead the cricket match I was playing in. I had been left as captain again, because our usual captain has some strange arrangement meaning he can't play "unless we're very desperate". I was left thinking how desperate we needed to be before he played, because at the official start time of 2pm, we had a grand total of 8 players. Although we batted first, (with me getting my season going with a patient 48), by the time we went out to field, we still had 8 players. Defending 165 was possible with a full team, but it is impossible to win with 8, and we were comfortably beaten. I was left pondering whether I had wasted a complete day, my 21st birthday, by playing for a side that no one can be bothered to turn out for. If it happens again, I'm moving on. I can't be doing with chasing players every single game because the communication is so poor.
I went home a little bit grumpy, but told myself there was little I could do about it and reflected on the positives. I had finally got some runs, and hopefully next weekend will be better! With the forecast finally set to 'Summer', it will at least be warmer!
And then we come to today. I woke up incredibly late, and effectively spent the day walking round town and then enjoying a game of snooker with CC, where I squandered a 4-1 lead to draw 4-4 before we were kicked out for closing time. Since I have got home though, realising that the end of my mini-holiday has come to an end, I have started feeling bad again...
It's almost as if I am allergic to work. Ever since I left at 1.30pm last Wednesday, I have been happy, (forgetting the frustrations of cricket), but the last few hours have been ABSOLUTE torture. I don't mind going to work. Of course, I have little choice. It has to be done. But last week, I learnt more procedures I now have to follow, on my own, and once again, I am left feeling unbelievably anxious and terrified of getting it wrong. When I say 'terrified', I don't mean 'a little nervous', I mean terrified beyond belief. I have spent the last couple of hours lying in the darkness telling myself that these things haven't happened yet, and I'm worrying over nothing but I CANNOT forget about it. I hate it. I absolutely despise myself for it, yet there is nothing I can do except "manage it". That is what I call it. "Managing it". Reminding myself that there are good times and bad, good stages and bad stages and, "It'll be alright", but throughout the times where I think this, I can't get past the "what ifs" and the "worst possible scenario" thing that goes on in my destroyed brain. What if tomorrow, I send off £30k instead of £20k, inputting it wrong on the system, and sending the whole office into disarray? What if I miscount something and roll over the figures completely out of shape? What if a customer comes along with yet another new type of form and I am left floundering at what the hell to do with it? What if... What if... What if... It sounds childish, silly and pathetically sad, but I'm bordering on tears at the prospect of an awful day that has the potential, however small, to actually happen.
I might now be 21 years of age, but sometimes I really do wish I was back at school. No one expected you to single handedly run 2 cricket teams. No one expected you to act responsibly at all times, and most importantly, no one expected you to be solely responsible for the destination of a huge amount of money, and expect you to do it perfectly. Growing up is bloody well difficult.
And I hate it.
Monday 14 May 2012
Season 2012
After another abnormally long and cold winter, and a delayed start, the 2012 cricket season finally got underway this weekend. This is very good news for me. Something to look forward to at the weekends, something to keep me fit and active, (for my Winter bingeing has given me a bit of a stomach), and lightens the mood. I always love the anticipation surrounding a new season.
So much so, that I couldn't sleep on Friday night. Sounds silly I know, but I really was looking forward to it! I have taken over the captaincy after Mr.Collins has departed to further his career, so was excited about carrying on from where I left off a couple of years ago. We started on Saturday at home to Blunham, at 2pm, on an admittedly damp and treacherously slow Bury pitch. Naturally, I lost the toss, and we were put into bat. Myself and new boy Ben Woodcock would open and we would open rather successfully. My own personal form wasn't amazing though. My lack of winter practice, in contrast to Ben's was there for all to see, and although we had put on an opening partnership of 90, I had only scratched my way to 22 of these, before being bowled by one that submarined. In fairness, after 20 overs of, "playing the anchor role", watching Ben race to 60 odd, I was a bit relieved to hand over to the more attacking players of the new-look side, who battered their way to a very good 217. Ben hit an awesome 116 not out on his Bedford debut, and while we sat around eating the tea that myself and Saggers had made a few hours earlier, I was a happy captain. We bowled them out for 102, with good bowling performances from another couple of debutants and I went home, aching, but happy.
On Sunday, we played practically the same side, but in the Sunday division, and at Roxton CC. Now, it's a nice enough village and all and it's got a cosy little pavilion which is all well and good, but the pitch and outfield at the best of times is horrible. Given that we've had a year's worth of rain recently though, meant that it would have been better if we were playing on a beach. Again I lost the toss, and again we were put into bat. Myself and Ben told each other to do exactly the same as we had yesterday, but, after hitting a very decent cover drive with my borrowed bat, (my old one had broken the day before), I was beaten by a decent yorker and departed with a measly 6 next to my name. However, another cracking 82 from Ben and good supporting acts catapulted us to 179, a score we were able to defend with ease, winning by 75 runs. I was captain again, which won't usually be the case, but our usual South African competitive captain had dropped out shortly before the toss for reasons unbeknown to any of us. It also left us with 10, but that ultimately meant nothing.
I mention that word again. The word that cropped up a fair bit last season. Competitiveness. The Saturday side has, for the past few years, been a fun side who focus on enjoying and participating, and as captain, I try and give everyone a decent bat or bowl. On Sundays, our focus is on winning. Even I think we need to get out of the bottom division, to keep players at the club and attract better players to further ourselves. We are still the butt of the jokes amongst the fellow players that I know, and I'm not best pleased about it. I still play in that side with the same light-hearted approach that I always have done, but I appreciate that we need to win games to get ourselves up a division. I don't think the Sunday side is going to last much longer if we remain in the bottom division. The senior figures at the club, (of which I am now one), keep saying that the main focus for the Sunday side is to win at all costs, yet they tell me, as captain, to "give everyone a chance". When you struggle to get 11 out on the pitch, having no choice but to select players who are very young and nervous and not up to scratch, yet want to win every game, it's almost impossible to balance the two. The Saturday side is for getting youngsters used to adult cricket, and the Sunday side is about winning "at all costs". And they're not my words. Either go for the ruthless win, or give everyone a chance. Trying to mix the two is where we've been going wrong, and whilst I'm captain on Sundays, that will change. But unfortunately, I won't be captain very often!
I still enjoyed the whole weekend though. My lazy Winter has left me with aching thighs, even today, but with time and more games, I will get used to it. This week is officially "birthday week", so at 1.30pm on Wednesday, I shall be free for 6 days to enjoy, even if most of my friends are revising for exams. Having a birthday in exam time is really very bad...
Onwards!
So much so, that I couldn't sleep on Friday night. Sounds silly I know, but I really was looking forward to it! I have taken over the captaincy after Mr.Collins has departed to further his career, so was excited about carrying on from where I left off a couple of years ago. We started on Saturday at home to Blunham, at 2pm, on an admittedly damp and treacherously slow Bury pitch. Naturally, I lost the toss, and we were put into bat. Myself and new boy Ben Woodcock would open and we would open rather successfully. My own personal form wasn't amazing though. My lack of winter practice, in contrast to Ben's was there for all to see, and although we had put on an opening partnership of 90, I had only scratched my way to 22 of these, before being bowled by one that submarined. In fairness, after 20 overs of, "playing the anchor role", watching Ben race to 60 odd, I was a bit relieved to hand over to the more attacking players of the new-look side, who battered their way to a very good 217. Ben hit an awesome 116 not out on his Bedford debut, and while we sat around eating the tea that myself and Saggers had made a few hours earlier, I was a happy captain. We bowled them out for 102, with good bowling performances from another couple of debutants and I went home, aching, but happy.
On Sunday, we played practically the same side, but in the Sunday division, and at Roxton CC. Now, it's a nice enough village and all and it's got a cosy little pavilion which is all well and good, but the pitch and outfield at the best of times is horrible. Given that we've had a year's worth of rain recently though, meant that it would have been better if we were playing on a beach. Again I lost the toss, and again we were put into bat. Myself and Ben told each other to do exactly the same as we had yesterday, but, after hitting a very decent cover drive with my borrowed bat, (my old one had broken the day before), I was beaten by a decent yorker and departed with a measly 6 next to my name. However, another cracking 82 from Ben and good supporting acts catapulted us to 179, a score we were able to defend with ease, winning by 75 runs. I was captain again, which won't usually be the case, but our usual South African competitive captain had dropped out shortly before the toss for reasons unbeknown to any of us. It also left us with 10, but that ultimately meant nothing.
I mention that word again. The word that cropped up a fair bit last season. Competitiveness. The Saturday side has, for the past few years, been a fun side who focus on enjoying and participating, and as captain, I try and give everyone a decent bat or bowl. On Sundays, our focus is on winning. Even I think we need to get out of the bottom division, to keep players at the club and attract better players to further ourselves. We are still the butt of the jokes amongst the fellow players that I know, and I'm not best pleased about it. I still play in that side with the same light-hearted approach that I always have done, but I appreciate that we need to win games to get ourselves up a division. I don't think the Sunday side is going to last much longer if we remain in the bottom division. The senior figures at the club, (of which I am now one), keep saying that the main focus for the Sunday side is to win at all costs, yet they tell me, as captain, to "give everyone a chance". When you struggle to get 11 out on the pitch, having no choice but to select players who are very young and nervous and not up to scratch, yet want to win every game, it's almost impossible to balance the two. The Saturday side is for getting youngsters used to adult cricket, and the Sunday side is about winning "at all costs". And they're not my words. Either go for the ruthless win, or give everyone a chance. Trying to mix the two is where we've been going wrong, and whilst I'm captain on Sundays, that will change. But unfortunately, I won't be captain very often!
I still enjoyed the whole weekend though. My lazy Winter has left me with aching thighs, even today, but with time and more games, I will get used to it. This week is officially "birthday week", so at 1.30pm on Wednesday, I shall be free for 6 days to enjoy, even if most of my friends are revising for exams. Having a birthday in exam time is really very bad...
Onwards!
Monday 7 May 2012
En Route to Proper Adulthood
It's been a solid enough few weeks. Work has become a little more stable, despite the odd occasion where a customer turns up with some random form and I have no idea what to do with it. I have learnt to deal with the occasional down feelings a bit more sensibly and rationally, but my single fear is that it's because it's Summer, and Summer always brings out the best in me. Eventually. I won't try and think about Winter 2012 too much!
However, it really does depend on how you look at it. Is it really Summer? Pissing with rain and temperatures that belong in November, it isn't really Summer at all, yet I've been alright. I haven't been great, but I haven't been awful either.
So what's actually happened? Well, not a lot to be quite frank. I've settled in a bit more in the workplace, even if I am feeling a little patronised on occasions by the annoying and belittling store manager who works in the shop. She has a frustratingly strong south London accent, and always asks if she can do her a favour doing this and that, even though she knows we have no choice. For some reason, I find it infuriating. Just give it to us, and bugger off! There have been a couple of occasions where I have let the anxiety get to me somewhat. One of these was last week, where I had no choice but to leave the safe open overnight because it was jammed, (for the 2nd night since I started), and I spent the whole night copiously imagining someone helping themselves to the thousands of pounds that lie inside. And I'm afraid another of these times is right at this moment.
Since I left at 1pm on Saturday afternoon, I have tried so very, very hard to not think about it, but I did leave the main safe £600 down. Now, whether that's a mistake seperating the load of banking I received on Saturday, a mistake entering the figures on the system, or whether I've genuinely thrown £600 somewhere, I have no idea. My severe anxiety is telling me the latter, but if that was the case, then I think my own till would have been £600 up, which it wasn't. Don't think that through too much, it's complicated. Even my brain, which I will say with a lack of characteristic modesty, is good when it comes to arithmetic. My rational thoughts tell me that I've simply put £600 in a bag somewhere, leaving £1600 in a bag that's supposed to have £1000 in, leaving the safe seemingly £600 short. Understand? No, me neither.
I don't think people appreciate how complicated that little office at the back of the shop is. I spend most of my time there complaining on Twitter, (I know, I really should stop with that), about how bored I am, but when there is actually things to be done, it is rather complicated. I need all of my limited brain power to juggle tasks and remember how to do this and that and quite frankly, i'm doing well to keep up. Sometimes I look like an idiot, and do things wrong, but again, the rational side of me thinks, "You learn from your mistakes, and you have only been there 3 months". I do need to listen to the rational side of me more.
The cricket season was supposed to start today. The one activity in my life that I enjoy above all else, but pre-season practice and the start of competitive cricket has been ruined by aforementioned weather. Unseasonably cold air coupled with persistent rain, which at times have been monsoon-esque, have simply ruined what would be a fantastic moment. At 2pm this afternoon, I stopped and thought... "I should be walking out to bat right now...". It's frustrating, but one of those things that can't be helped.
The furore over my Twitter punishment has calmed down, given that I made the sensible decision to stop running after the FA, demanding an explanation into their ridiculous regulations. I figured out that I would never get an answer, and with everything else going on inside my head, I didn't need another head-busting experience to add to it. It's a real shame, but I sold my referee kit to Mr.Wright, who paid a generous amount of money for it, seeing as I was about to offer it to him for a tenner. It looks like my referee career is over. Onwards and upwards.
What else? I don't know, but I'm 21 in two weeks time. Apparently, the "official" age to become an adult. I can sort of see the meaning behind that. In the world of work for the past 3 years, I have sort of felt like a boy in a man's world, and hopefully that can change. Otherwise, I shall plough on, fighting the daily fight, that has become an acceptably private fight, as I have figured out that I cannot talk to people about the same old problems, day in, day out. People have their own problems. I've accepted this is the best thing for everyone, and will work on dealing with it on my own. Staying rational, and trying to minimise the bad times, working on changing them to good times. Impossible, maybe, but I'll give it a go.
What else can I do?
However, it really does depend on how you look at it. Is it really Summer? Pissing with rain and temperatures that belong in November, it isn't really Summer at all, yet I've been alright. I haven't been great, but I haven't been awful either.
So what's actually happened? Well, not a lot to be quite frank. I've settled in a bit more in the workplace, even if I am feeling a little patronised on occasions by the annoying and belittling store manager who works in the shop. She has a frustratingly strong south London accent, and always asks if she can do her a favour doing this and that, even though she knows we have no choice. For some reason, I find it infuriating. Just give it to us, and bugger off! There have been a couple of occasions where I have let the anxiety get to me somewhat. One of these was last week, where I had no choice but to leave the safe open overnight because it was jammed, (for the 2nd night since I started), and I spent the whole night copiously imagining someone helping themselves to the thousands of pounds that lie inside. And I'm afraid another of these times is right at this moment.
Since I left at 1pm on Saturday afternoon, I have tried so very, very hard to not think about it, but I did leave the main safe £600 down. Now, whether that's a mistake seperating the load of banking I received on Saturday, a mistake entering the figures on the system, or whether I've genuinely thrown £600 somewhere, I have no idea. My severe anxiety is telling me the latter, but if that was the case, then I think my own till would have been £600 up, which it wasn't. Don't think that through too much, it's complicated. Even my brain, which I will say with a lack of characteristic modesty, is good when it comes to arithmetic. My rational thoughts tell me that I've simply put £600 in a bag somewhere, leaving £1600 in a bag that's supposed to have £1000 in, leaving the safe seemingly £600 short. Understand? No, me neither.
I don't think people appreciate how complicated that little office at the back of the shop is. I spend most of my time there complaining on Twitter, (I know, I really should stop with that), about how bored I am, but when there is actually things to be done, it is rather complicated. I need all of my limited brain power to juggle tasks and remember how to do this and that and quite frankly, i'm doing well to keep up. Sometimes I look like an idiot, and do things wrong, but again, the rational side of me thinks, "You learn from your mistakes, and you have only been there 3 months". I do need to listen to the rational side of me more.
The cricket season was supposed to start today. The one activity in my life that I enjoy above all else, but pre-season practice and the start of competitive cricket has been ruined by aforementioned weather. Unseasonably cold air coupled with persistent rain, which at times have been monsoon-esque, have simply ruined what would be a fantastic moment. At 2pm this afternoon, I stopped and thought... "I should be walking out to bat right now...". It's frustrating, but one of those things that can't be helped.
The furore over my Twitter punishment has calmed down, given that I made the sensible decision to stop running after the FA, demanding an explanation into their ridiculous regulations. I figured out that I would never get an answer, and with everything else going on inside my head, I didn't need another head-busting experience to add to it. It's a real shame, but I sold my referee kit to Mr.Wright, who paid a generous amount of money for it, seeing as I was about to offer it to him for a tenner. It looks like my referee career is over. Onwards and upwards.
What else? I don't know, but I'm 21 in two weeks time. Apparently, the "official" age to become an adult. I can sort of see the meaning behind that. In the world of work for the past 3 years, I have sort of felt like a boy in a man's world, and hopefully that can change. Otherwise, I shall plough on, fighting the daily fight, that has become an acceptably private fight, as I have figured out that I cannot talk to people about the same old problems, day in, day out. People have their own problems. I've accepted this is the best thing for everyone, and will work on dealing with it on my own. Staying rational, and trying to minimise the bad times, working on changing them to good times. Impossible, maybe, but I'll give it a go.
What else can I do?
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