Category Archives: Politics

So I Was Out Shopping Yesterday

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Since I took yesterday and today off.  Yesterday was so I could wait for our landlord to do their quarterly ‘inspection.’  Basically I stood there while some chick from their office wandered around.  We have no idea exactly what they were looking for.  But I guess we passed.

So then I went shopping.  I popped over and picked up the two pairs of boots I just had resoled.  They both now look brand new.  Then I wandered through House of Fraser.  Always up for a little retail therapy, I wandered into their lingerie section.  They have some beautiful things.  Only I didn’t buy any of them.  Why? Because I cannot bring myself to spend £50 on just a bra, when I can get basically the same bra and matching  pants for about £32 at Marks and Spencer.  Just crazy prices.

So I left House of Big Spending and went over to M&S.  And got two sets for…£32.  I really can’t see House of Fraser making it in this town.

Today I had to stay home and wait for our Argos delivery.  Which has now arrived.  Four more bookcases and 3 cubes.  The cubes go together to make a display/storage cabinet for the dining area of the front room.  And with four bookcases, Simon and I will actually have room for not only the books we own, but more books to buy!

So, the hope is to have everything but together and then filled with stuff by Sunday night.  And then, finally, we’ll be unpacked.

Who wants to come to the house warming party?

Well, I Wouldn’t Call it Bad Customer Service

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But it sure is annoying.

You see, we have several bookcases and a display case being delivered tomorrow by Argos.  Between 7am and 6pm.  So I called to see if I could get a smaller delivery window.  Say, 7 – 12 or something.  Nope, can’t be done.  They have no way of knowing what time the things will be delivered.

I wouldn’t exactly call this *bad* customer service.  But it certainly isn’t good customer service.

How hard could it be to give me a smaller window? They must know, at this point on the day before, what else is scheduled for delivery in Belfast tomorrow.  So why can’t they narrow it down for me?

When we purchased our washer/dryer, I was given about the same delivery time. But I was also given a number to call the day before to get it narrowed down.  So Curry’s for the win on that one.

I am going to be home all day, regardless.  But now I won’t be able to do *anything* without worrying about missing the delivery.  Not even pee.  So thank god for cordless phones, I guess.

But, really, Argos, you should try and narrow it down for people.  It would be very helpful.

This Post Will Probably Piss Some People Off

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But I am going to write it anyway.

On the bus yesterday there was a child, about 6 – 8 years old, who kept saying “Daddy, daddy, look daddy, look at that daddy, what’s that daddy” over and over and over again, as loud as possible. Based on the way he was talking, he was certainly old enough to be told to use his inside voice. His daddy just let him be loud.

I have posted about this child over on Modern Etiquette and Manners, the Etiquette forum I help moderate, and have gotten 2 responses that chaff my hide (heh, I think I’ve been reading Confessions of a Pioneer Woman too much!). One response was, how do you know the child isn’t impaired. The other one was perhaps he was younger then he appeared.

Let’s take these one at a time; even impaired children need to learn how to act in public. Yelling in public is not acceptable (unless it is a yelling place, such as a sports venue) by anyone. It disturbs others. It hurts people’s ears. It is rude. Even an impaired child needs to learn this if he (note: I am using he as it is easier than he/she) is ever going to get along in society. And if he can’t learn this? Perhaps he shouldn’t be in society. A good friend of mine has 1 child with aspergers and two others with at least ADD (they are too young to test further at the moment) and yet all three of them know what is appropriate behavior in public. And they are impaired.

Let’s not also forget that, technically, I am impaired. I have a real, diagnosed mental illness that makes me freak a bit in public at times. But do I let my freaking effect those around me? I do not. Why not? Because I have been taught how to act in public by my parents.

As to looking older than he is; if he can speak as well as this child was speaking, there was no way he was much younger than he appeared. And even if he is, I think any child over the age of about 2 can be told to use their inside voice. I know my nieces have been being told that for at least that long. And they did learn to do so. How? Repetition. Telling them over and over, when they yelled, to use their inside voice. It can be done with a young child. I’ve seen it first hand.

I can here the critics now ‘but you have no children Robyn, how the hell would you know?’ I don’t have to have children to be able to tell when a child is not being parented. All I have to do is go out into the world and observe behavior that would have gotten me hauled home, my mother to embarrassed to continue to do what she is doing.

And I don’t need to be a parent to know that screaming at the top of your lungs on the bus is not appropriate behavior. Ever.

The Amusing Thing About Yesterday

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was my conversation with the psychiatrist.

He would say “Some people hear things, or see things that aren’t there, do you ever do that?”

I would say “No, I have never hallucinated.”

He would say “Do you have the need to do things over and over again?”

I would say “No, I do not have OCD.”

And so on, until I wanted to say to him, Look, I probably know the DSM-IV as well as you do, so just use the damn names for things!

When I told him I’d been on lithium, xanax and trazadone, he looked amazed.  “At the same time?”  More or less.

He did, however, sum me up very nicely. “You do well on meds.  You do okay for awhile off meds, and then it all goes pear shaped for a bit.  But overall, you’re doing fine!”

My family is amused by the saying ‘pear shaped’.  Not a US saying.

Well, That Was Exhausting…

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Since I hadn’t been to the Psych department in so long, the Doctor took an entire history again.  Do they not realize how painful it is to go through everything that’s happened in the last 15 years all over again?  Of course they do.  Wankers.

The final decision was to not put me on any meds.  I am coping more or less okay, its better for the fetus if and when I get pregnant etc etc etc.  Of course, he told me to go to my GP for a new referral if I felt this wasn’t working for me.

Wasn’t my original Psychiatrist, which sort of pissed me off, as I was hoping it would be him so he’d know my history.  This guy hadn’t even read my chart before I got into his little room.  That annoyed me as well.

The other difficult part was the woman sitting behind me in the reception area, bitching about how she’d been betrayed and what the hell was she doing with all the crazy people? I really wanted to turn around and tell her to shut the fuck up, some of us crazy people need this shit.  But I bit my tongue.  And had to laugh when she commented that the reception area looks like a 1930s ward from some movie, because it does.

Why do they do that? Why do they put the ‘modern’ psych units into the creepiest building they can find?  KP, back in California, was the same way.  The Department of Psychology and Psychiatry was in the old Home for the Incurables (I kid you not) in Oakland California. It was such a creepy building.

Home now, enjoying my last day off before next weekend, when I have another four day weekend!

Happy St Patrick’s Day!

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No, I’ve not had any green beer. Or any beer. I had a lovely glass of wine last night, though.

Spent the morning cleaning the flat. Going to spend the afternoon putting together our new piece of furniture and putting things away. Maybe we’ll be unpacked by the time we have to decide if we’re moving again. That’ll be next January.

In other news, I see my psychiatrist tomorrow. I haven’t seen him in about 3 years. I think it was just after Simon and I got married that he released me back to my GP for meds monitoring.So very different here than in the US. In the US I would have seen him non-stop. And probably a psychologist also. I think I had one psychology session ages ago here in the UK.

I think about finding a private therapist, but its very expensive in order to just go and talk to someone. NHS won’t cover it. At least, not long term.

We’ll see what he says tomorrow. I think I do need to be back on meds, just not sure what kind. Too many ‘bad’ days lately. Better living through chemistry, indeed.

I am Absolutely Thrilled

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That people are reading this blog. But, would you mind commenting? Or at least sending me an email (tee AT leyser DOT org) (ya know with the @ and the . and no spaces!)? And tell me what you think? Or how you found me?

I do have a stats page, but it isn’t very good, I am looking for a new one.

Any bloggers out there have a favorite stats page that works with Word Press?

In other news, I’ve had a horrid week at work. I am very very good at my job. Except this week when everything I touched turned to crap. I ordered the wrong size envelopes. I gave my boss the wrong record sheet of returned information, three times. I know I did more bad stuff than that, but at the moment I can’t remember what it was.

Let’s put it this way, I was in such a foul mood earlier today, from all my screw ups this week, that Peter, our security guard from Reception, came in to talk to me, waving his hanky like a white flag. At least it was funny!

For The Most Part, I Love my Job

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I have a lot of autonomy, I do a variety of things all day long, I get along well with my co-workers, I adore my bosses.

And then there are days like today.  I think the whole office had PMS.  And I found out no one told me they had taken the last C5 envelope (business no. 10 to you US readers) or the last sheet of invoice paper.  I apologized to my boss, who said it wasn’t my fault if no one told me, but I still felt like I hadn’t done my job.

Luckily I have a great relationship with my supplier and he ran me over a box of invoice paper.  I’ll have the envelopes tomorrow.

And I am still writing the minutes from our Board meetings last week.  Which would go a lot faster if certain members of our staff didn’t keep interrupting me to tell me stupid things.  Like that his envelope won’t seal.  Use a piece of tape, for freakin’ sake.

The good thing I found out today is that most likely I won’t be running our PO system any more.  Its being handed over to another person, I hope.  It doesn’t take much time, but it does take some time, and everyone wants their POs NOW NOW NOW.  Um, sorry, I have 24 hours to issue it, and I’m doing something else right now.  Not to forget that THERE’S NO ONE HERE TO SIGN IT, WANKER!

Oh, and that you didn’t follow procedures and if you want a PO for over £500, I need some quotes.  Duh, RTFM.

Oh, how I don’t miss my tech/customer support days!

Another Thing I Don’t Get About the UK

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There are no electric outlets in the bathrooms.

There is no way to plug in a hairdryer or an electric toothbrush.  Or a night light.

I guess I get the logic of it. No electricity around water.  But if that is truly the logic, then why are there outlets in kitchens?  And why can’t they do what they do in the US and put trips into them, so if water and electricity mix, the outlet turns off.

I don’t use a hairdryer or an electric toothbrush (well, I do, but it takes batteries), but a night light would be helpful.

Especially since when you turn on the overhead light in every bathroom I’ve been in the UK the extractor fan turns on also.  Which is very loud in the middle of the night and wakes up the world.

I just don’t get it.

Rain, Always Rain

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Yup, raining again here in Belfast.  And cold.  Seems like spring is *never* going to come.

People ask me how I could possibly have moved from “sunny!” California to rainy Belfast.  Well, San Francisco isn’t exactly “sunny!” California.

Most people, when you say California, assume you mean Southern.  LA, in other words.  But I am not from LA.  I hate LA.  And, yes, I have been there.

In truth, the weather in Belfast isn’t all that different from Northern California.  Its colder, but both places are very very wet.  So I feel right at home.

Of course, in Northern California, it only rains in the winter.  In Belfast, it rains year round.

But its not really the rain that bothers me.  Its the cold.  I like rain.  I just don’t like cold rain.

Of course, if I could stay home while it rains, I’d like it just fine.  But no, I have to go to work.  In the rain.  And the cold. In the cold rain.