Conferencing

I phoned up the school where I used to teach to offer a bird box with a camera in it (my sister in law is a very generous person, and in theory it's a great present, but in practice I can't see my husband and I sitting watching eggs hatching out very often, much more beneficial for a school full of children).

Anyway, I digress from the moan. In response to my question, 'May I please speak to the head?' the nice lady who answered said, 'I'm afraid she's conferencing with a group of children at the moment.'

Conferencing? What the hell is that. Does it mean 'talking' with them. If so, then why not call it that. Since when was a school a corporate organisation where you have 'conferences'.

I hate the whole bent towards making everything into a business, so that you don't have pupils any longer, you have 'learners'. What's wrong with the word pupils, or even children? And 'targets', why impose targets on young children. Often targets they can't hope to achieve, because, as we know, children all develop at different rates and in different ways. So whole year targets are desperately unfair on those who may have had a blip in their progress.

I could go on and on about many things that make my blood boil about our education system, but I won't because I have to go to work, but conferencing does seem to me the last straw.

Toxic anti bacterial sprays

I'm going to have a moan about the overuse of these nasty toxic sprays that the advertisers would lead us to believe are absolutely essential for our health and welfare. You see these sanitised women spraying every surface compulsively, as soon as anything has been put on it. No germ is allowed to reproduce and they have lovely, clean, white homes, safe for their children, which they clearly love more than I love mine (the ads would have you believe). My theory is that they are directly responsible for the rise in allergies such as excema and asthma (this is obviously not based on any scientific knowledge whatsoever) and the continual coughs and colds many of the young seem to suffer from. A little dirt is good, it builds up immunity. (That's what I always tell myself, anyway, when I can't be bothered to do the cleaning)

In the pub, where I work, the young seem to have been totally brainwashed by the type of ads mentioned above. They use the clear anti bacterial spray to wipe down the tables, without first giving them a good old rub with soap and water, which is what actually removes all the grease and things that work their way into the wood. In my view, although the germs might be gone, these tables are not actually properly clean.

At the end of service, when we're tidying up and wiping down and I'm clutching my trusty hot wet cloth with a bit of washing up liquid on it, they are busy spraying all the work surfaces with white foamy stuff with the enthusiasm which a 14 year old boy might douse himself in Lynx, or FCUK or some such foul deoderant/body spray.

This supposedly grease dissolving foam, bubbles up in a menacing way and the fumes penetrate deep into all our lungs.

I say, what's wrong with good old hot water and soap? In my view, the only time these types of products need to be used is when you have about 20 years worth of encrusted black shit lining the inside of your cooker (such as I do). Then, you will be forgiven for using it, but remove any living creature from the building while it works its evil.

There's also a little sneaking suspicion that the obsessive spraying and rubbing is an excellent way of avoiding picking up a dish towel and doing some good old fashioned drying up. These two jobs go on simultaneously at the end of a shift, and guess who always ends up drying?

Insurance scams

Another one offered by my grumpy young son.

The screen on his Nokia phone went blank, and as he had insured it (which is compulsory when you buy them) he wasn't too bothered. So he phoned them up to explain, which was difficult as he had no screen to look at.

They explained that, as the screen was considered a 'spare part', it does not lie within the warranty guidelines.

Bloody typical! What exactly isn't a spare part?

Ridiculous. Mutter, mutter, moan, groan.

Sending a new book to agents

Right, I'm in a total stress. I've just spent at least two hours on one stupid submission, this one requiring me to put my name and title of my book on the top of every page. I did this, then rejigged a few things and the bloody name and title went out of synch and ended up in the middle of the pages. ARRGGHHHHH. Why do they ask us to do this kind of thing? It's all in a bloody email anyway. I think they make it deliberately difficult so you give up and don't bother them with what, quite frankly, they are 99.9% likely to reject.

Each agent has a different request for submissions. The permutations would have someone interested in probability doing a major study. Whilst one will ask for a synopsis and three sample chapters, one will ask for the same but a CV; another will ask for an 'informative letter', 4 chapters and a writing biography (what bloody writing biography, I haven't got one yet because no one wants me!!). The postage alone costs hundreds of pounds, then there's the photocopying costs for those who won't accept email submissions. You just know they probably read the first line of your letter and bin the whole lot.

I feel like killing myself now.

Health and Safety

This is an account of Josh's experience on the train the other day.

It all started when he fancied a cup of coffee, so he went to the 'mobile service unit' (tea trolley to you and me) which actually wasn't mobile at all. So far so good.

Having got his coffee, he asked the guy in charge if he could rest his cup on his mobile service unit whilst he put his milk and sugar in. The train was packed and there was nowhere else to rest it.

MSU man: 'No, sorry, health and safety I'm afraid'.

Josh: 'What do you mean?'

MSU man: 'Well, you know...'

Josh: 'No, not really, I mean, what's actually dangerous? What could happen if I put my cup down here and stir my coffee?'

MSU man, cryptically: 'Oh, you know, it's every man for himself these days.'

Josh: 'What??! What are you talking about?'

MSU man: Silence. Then, 'Look,' he said, chuffed with himself, indicating an alcove which housed a fire extinguisher, 'you could use that. See, it's the perfect height and everything.'

Josh: 'Oh yes, that's perfect, plus, if my coffee sets on fire, I can use the extinguisher to put it out and then the Health and Safety people would be really happy.'

MSU man: 'Yeah, they would.'


This, I think, demonstrates perfectly the lack of humour which the implementation of health and safety regulations seems to generate. A nation of parrots mouthing 'NO sorry, it's health and safety' without question.

Another thing he saw was a sign on the escalator saying, 'Please don't walk backwards down the escalator'.

True, that's probably not a good idea, and 99% of people won't walk down backwards. So where do you stop? Surely they should also mention that people should not jump up and down, stand on one leg, do a handstand, a headstand or a cartwheel..... the list is endless.

But really, it's our fault. If we stop sueing organisations for giving us a hot cup of coffee, then maybe they'd stop treating us like complete morons. It's really down to us.

Number 4 - Big man squeezing woman

Occasionally, maybe at a party, or in high spirits, I have been picked up by a man (normally a fairly burly one, who can take my weight) and squeezed.

I am sure this is done with fondness, and not to prove how strong and manly they are, but the result, for me, is unfortunate.

The squeeze produces an involuntary reaction and rather like one of those crying/peeing dolls, I wee in my pants. For those of you who have never done this, it is actually an incredibly humiliating experience, even though one tries to make it seem funny. But walking around with wet knickers is not at all funny.

So this is actually more than annoying, it is downright mean. Next time you are tempted to squeeze a woman, just remember this. Or at least give us enough warning so that we can locate our weak little pelvic floor muscles and get them working, or cross our legs.

You will save many of us an indignity we don't deserve.