Feedback from Cheadle: it's all very nice, but you've gone back to saying "like" too often, and all the effing detracts from how nice everything is. 6:10 PM
While I don't want the whole world to have the same t-shirt as me, I can't help but tell you there's only one place in the UK you can get Rabbi's Daughters t-shirts - Showroom 64 on Great Titchfield Street. And Emma is really nice - she's even hanging on to my t-shirt till next week.
I used to work exactly there, at the junction with Mortimer Street, and what's great about the area is that there's always a fashion wholesaler with a discount sale. Our whole office was one big shopping trip, with people (OK, women) trying things on behind the office dividers so that we could all see what they'd bought. The guys sometimes felt a little out of it. That's publishing for ya. 5:19 PM
Having a wireless network is like nursing an ailing grandmother. 12:24 PM
"Let me share with you why I've just paused. Then we can clear our thinking and take it forward."
Someone just said that to me on the phone. And not ironically, as far as I could tell. 10:28 AM
Today's (Not) The Day...
... when things improve. Much. This is my brain-dump - sorry if I've been a bit slow on the old posting-doodar. You know how it is.
So, I sent client X the marketing plan which I rustled up this morning, like fresh morning coffee. I heard nothing back from him. Quel f*cking surprise. He also said to me, when we talked yesterday "would you mind casting your expert eye over the brochure in pdf format? I'd really appreciate it." (Amazing how charming he is now that he's actually paid me in full and the job's running a month late and he needs me). I said of course. Because I'm properly charming. Did he send it? Did he buggery. I emailed him and told him I will be washing my hair for the rest of my life from Tuesday so he better get it over quick.
Had a productive day on my two almost-complete projects, so that's good. They're for different clients in the same company. I just got client Z the most amazing two keynote speakers that you'd fall over to hear. Did he say thank you? He said "what are they talking about?". Client F - Fred from yesterday - hasn't responded to an email in two weeks, I talked to him yesterday, and he was keen to "catch up" today. Did he call me? Did he respond to my email? I have done what I always do: a series of CYA emails moving up the food chain so I've done my bit. But I want clients to call me back rather than leave me to get on with it because it reminds me of the few good things about actually being in an office, like feedback and human contact. Oh well.
The wifi is still buggered, so we have an old-fashioned cable running across the hall which is both a health and safety hazard and annoying. But then if I didn't have any web access I'd be like the mad woman in Jane Eyre, so I think my flatmate's been calmer than most about it. I have called in all the tech support favours I can, and I'm none the wiser.
The tomatoes in the fridge have had kittens, but if they and the basil in the windowbox live till Saturday I'll make a tomato basil and onion salad. I have twelve people coming for lunch, did I mention that?
Here's the menu:
homous (with za'atar and without)
aubergine dip
Leek and goat's cheese tart (a la Delia, although mine bears no resemblance to her picture)
Tuna quiche
Roasted red pepper salad in a slightly Rumanian, slightly mediterranean style
Watermelon, feta and mint salad
Felafel and fishballs (shop bought, life's too short)
Aforementioned tomato salad
Cheesecake (tailend of the season)
Morroccan dried fruit salad
Clearly, there's only a finite number of recipes in my repertoire.
Good news is, I got a call from a US friend this morning, she's passing through town and coming for lunch Saturday. I felt remarkably Lois Weiesberg, as it just so happens that another friend who's already coming for lunch works in the exact same area as her. I'm holding off the urge to make some pistachio biscuits because frankly it's 2am and I ought to be in bed.
I have not been to aerobics since Tuesday when they cancelled my class. Bastards.
Here's something I did at the weekend. I was in Spitalfields with J, and got chatting to one of the stallholders. When she gave me her card, I said to her, "oh, are you [from an obscure ethnic minority]?" She asked me how I knew and I said my friend was also [from the same obscure ethnic minority], and I recongised the style of name. We laughed. When I got home, my other friend called me, and I said to him, "I met this really nice woman today..." The upshot was it's hard to meet likeminded people when you're [from an obscure ethnic minority]. He kinda said he'd be up for meeting her. I was interested in her wares, and when she called me yesterday, I said to her, "feel free to tell me to get lost, you may not even be single, but my friend X is also [from your obscure ethnic minority], and..." I wandered off telling her that I'm Jewish and that I kinda know how these things work, and that if I was [from her obscure ethnic minority] I'd love to go out with him. She was so un-English about it (also, I probably wouldn't do this for an English acquaintance, because I don't think it would work), and said I was a wonderful person, and yes it's terribly hard to meet someone when you're Anglo-[obscure ethnic minority] and what's he like?
Upshot: they have exchanged emails and will keep me posted.
My flatmate said to me this morning "I didn't know you don't like tomatoes" and I realised he reads my weblog. He's a fantastically talented and good-looking bloke. Hello S.
Got entertaining email from M reminding me about Stephen Brook's The Club, which is out of print and now I really want to read it. Anyone got it?
I think next week will be two days work, and three days in the library. And maybe half of one of those days doing stuff like roof-fixing and shelf-up-putting. Obviously I mean paying someone to do that, I don't want to break my nails.
There are people whose phone-calls I haven't returned in so long I can't remember what I was supposed to say to them.
I need to get into town to collect my "OY VEY" t-shirt tomorrow. I need to go to the gym. I need to tidy my room. I need to write the Great Jewish Novel. I need to stop rambling. I need to go to bed. 1:43 AM
I can't believe it's taken me till 10:45 to realise that I have my contact lenses in the wrong eye. 10:54 AM
BussBuss - online style-type magazine. Aren't we all? 9:17 AM
It's surely no coincidence that my wireless network has gone down the same day as air traffic control. Conspiracy theories about. It may all be to do with the bus shelter. 8:31 AM
Wednesday, June 02, 2004
Hard Day's Fight Everything is going wrong. I am in a bad mood. Perhaps some kind of cathartic thang will make me feel better. Not that I believe that crap. So twentieth century/Viennese. Like a Walls Viennese cake: looks like it has all the answers you're looking for, but is ultimately unsatisfactory.
OK, here goes.
I'm currently juggling two work projects, some writing, and a big volunteer project. The volunteer project is taking up a lot of time. A lot. And because I'm doing something very similar to what I do for work, I get frustrated by the volunteerness of the other people. Now we've had a couple of cockups, and I feel partially responsible, and partially that it would all have been fine if it was left to me. I'm not good at sharing, it seems. Responsibility, that is.
I have a new flatmate, and we have had wifi problems from day one. It is more than frustrating. I say no more. Also, we have an inordinate amount of tomatoes in our fridge, and I don't like tomatoes.
I am working on a project that as fast as I'm getting speakers, the ones I've already got drop off. So I'm walking backwards to Christmas, and I've only got till Friday.
Today, an old client called me about a project that I worked on months ago, chasing the marketing plan I "obviously wrote", but because their marketing director has left, they can't find. I should have done it, but they never asked for it, so I didn't. I check my records - it doesn't exist. I tell him I've probably archived it, and will send it tomorrow. Now I have to write it.
Clients, clients, clients. They're all "we owe you one", but they never do. Like last week, someone dropped out of an event I put together in February, which I have no further contractual responsibility for. In fact, I suspect that the drop-out is partly due to the fact that I had to chase their logistics people to even get in touch with the speakers, so they don't feel "looked after". Because it only took me one minute, I emailed him back a witty, begging letter, and cc'd my client, saying that if he came back on board (which was good for us all), he should talk to Fred. Then I'm cc'd in on emails to Fred saying he wants to come back, but can Fred call him. I call Fred and he doesn't call me back. In the end, this morning I call the speaker, turn them around, everything's hunkydory. I call the client and tell him. He doesn't even f*cking say thank you.
I'm trying to have a week of "no work" next week before I start a new project on the 14th, where I can go to the British Library, think beautiful thoughts and write. Fat chance, way things are looking.
And my new Rabbi's Daughters t-shirt (which replaces the one I bought in New York that mysteriously disappeared from my house) has arrived at the wholesalers who I tracked down because I needed one, and they'll only hold it till Friday, so I need to get into town by Friday. Or go to New York. Fat chance.
And I've booked an August trip to NY, with some friend-style people, and have just discovered that all the room-sharing seems to have happened without me. It's like being the last kid picked for the netball team.
And, while I was out today, they installed a new bus shelter. Like one installs a new printer. Only this one doesn't have advertising (good) but is backed up right to our wall, so we won't be able to (a) remove our graffiti, or (b) trim our (NIMFY) hedge. In fact, our hedge will probably die because it won't get any light now it has a f*ck off great bus shelter in front of it. 10:48 PM
How to get your fiteen minutes: One: Change your (online) name to something fey and referrential: Sashette. Wankette. Blogian. Blogienne. DowningStreetienne. Two: Have sex with as many - ideally famous - people as possible Three: Keep the stained clothes from the Gap for DNA testing later Four: write about it pseudanonymously Five: get a friend to pretend they're you, when everyone starts wondering. It ups the ante, big time Six: even better if people out themselves as you just because they want to catch the coat tails of your fiteen minutes as it goes by Seven: write about your embyonic book deal Eight: write about how you can't believe how many hits your name has on google. Feed the google-juice, baby
I thought the Handbag Doctor repaired handbags. How stupid of me. They check out your make-up, and tell you what works, what doesn't, and give you a mini-makeover.
So that's one more consultant I should add the the twentyfirst century list of must-haves. There are things I'd never even thought about. 12:57 PM
A friend of mine is auditioning for the X Factor on the 14th. I'm one step away from someone who may be one step away from Simon Cowell. 10:21 AM
There's still time to get to the Hay festival, if you haven't got two projects to complete by the end of this week. 9:43 AM
So it's the first of the month. White rabbits. Did you do that, when you were a kid? If you said "white rabbits" before you said anything else, then you'd have good luck? 8:59 AM
[weird webshit] the Guardian gets the full story on a Manchester boy who plotted his own murder online... "Skilled writers of fiction would struggle to conjure up a plot such as that which arises here. It's staggering to be dealing with a case that arises out of a 14-year-old boy's invention of false personalities, false relationships and events arranged for his own killing at the hands of a 16-year-old boy who he had met via an internet chatroom." 10:26 AM
Businessweek just found out about wikis and social software.
Here's the web-weird story of the week - and with a Manchester twist. An Altrincham boy planned his own murder with another boy he met online.
Like the judge said, you couldn't make this stuff up. Scary world. 8:29 PM
The Arab Israeli Cookbook - a new play at The Gate Theatre . 3:55 PM
Call Centre Update
So I'm on hold for five minutes while he finds out of my protected no claims covered a claim I had two years ago, and if it affects my insurance. When he comes back, he says, "F*****, that's a familiar name. Do you know..."
And of course as soon has he says do you know, I know. Code. I ask him if he goes to Yeshurun (my parents shul) - his mum and dad do. He's twenty years old, so I probably haven't hung out with him that much. We laugh and he says he'll ask his dad if he knows my dad. I say I'll see him at Rosh Hashannah. Both our days are outrageously improved by actual personal contact. 2:18 PM
So I'm renewing my car insurance, and I'm on the phone to my insurer, who runs a large call centre out of Leeds. I'm talking to Mark, and I'm thinking that he has a wonderful, home-laden cadence to his accent. I ask him if he's in Leeds - he says he is. I say I'm from Manchester, he says he is originally - he was at Uni in Leeds, and stayed on for that most rewarding of graduate jobs, working in a call centre. We chat some more, to cut a long story short, he's from Cheadle. Well, Gatley. Delamere Road. His parents still live there.
Talk about a small world. I resist asking him if they go to the same shul as my parents. 2:11 PM
Thanks to Michael for pointing me in the right direction for this - Screwdriver. They do all the DIY you won't. Web design is not their strong suit, clearly. But then hey, I can't make Ikea furniture not wobble. 1:10 PM
I can't help thinking they know where I am. So this morning, after two - wonderful - days off, I'm at my computer at 7.4. I have received 102 emails I need to deal with before I can do anything else. Does Outlook/IMAP want to play? Does it bugger. I still have that stupid fetching headers message and I've called my excellent technical support hotline (aka a mate) and it still doesn't work. I am frustrated. It's not good for my skin. 8:37 AM
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