Just like waiting for a bus

Although those that know me will realise that I know very little about that to which this title relates. In the last twelve months, the number of times I have caught a bus could be counted on the fingers of one hand. The only reason I caught them then was because I was somewhat incapaitated after breaking my foot (fifth metatarsal if you must know. Apparantly there are footballers who seem to be famous for little other than breaking the same bone). Don't get me wrong, I have nothing in particular against buses if you have no other means of transport or indeed if it is convenient for you. However, I can walk in to Gloucester from where I live and if I want to travel further I own a bicycle and a car which leave at the time I want them leave; from where I am and go to where I want to go not to somewhere vaguely nearby and I never have to get off my bike or out of my car to wait around for another one.

Anyway, I digress, what is like waiting for a bus? Interviews. You wait for ages then two arrive at once.
During my redundancy, apart from successfully applying to train to be a driving instructor (see earlier blogs), I have applied for a number of fairly diverse jobs and this week I have two interviews. First, on Wednesday, I shall be off to Royal Mail to find out if I need to change my name to Pat for the Christmas period. Strange as it may sound, I have always said that if I were redundant over the Christmas period I would love to spend it working as a Christmas relief postman or otherwise Royal Mail employee. I can't explain why, sorry. On top of that, If I can get night shift it might well work well for me.

Second job is a little harder to explain. It is with the NHS. If you are anything like me, you will browse some obscure websites, although in this case I refer to directgov and subsequent links, some of it makes for interesting reading. On this occasion, I found myself on the NHS job pages. I like the NHS. For all its faults, the NHS is, in my opinion, a marvellous organisation and I would be proud to be a part of it if only until I qualify as a driving instructor. So what is odd about this? I hear you ask. I found the job on the website and thought it looked kind of interesting, however, I'm not really sure what the job is. Could be an interesting interview that one. Keep watching, you may read more about it later in the week.

On another note, my busy week just gets busier, I shall be back at Job Centre Plus again on Tuesday to sign on. The ongoing highlight of my unemployment; Yosser Hughes eat your heart out.

I have had a new experience this weekend, one that will possibly live with me for ever. Life changing you could argue. Tina and I have been discussing for some time about hiring a tandem to try. Whilst in Brecon, it came to my attention that Mike and Cat own a tandem so, Saturday night, we rocked up at their house partly to be sociable and partly to have a go. Everybody should try this at least once in their lifetime, I can't remember the last time I laughed so much that wasn't at somebody else's expense. Just one word of advice, if you are on the back of a tandem and your handlebars are attached to the front seatpost, don't try and straighten the bars on the move. Other than Tina trying to kill me, it was a truly enjoyable experience and if anyone has or knows someone with a tandem for sale remarkably cheap, please let me know.

Finally for today, Jayne read my last blog and got unnaturally excited about a mention, so Jayne, this whole paragraph is for you. I don't know how you're going to contain yourself.

Climb Every Mountain

A bit of a change of subject for today's blog following a cracking weekend in the Brecon Beacons. Allow me to introduce you to the Mountain Trail Challenge arranged for the second consecutive year by good friends of mine Mike and Cat. The basic concept is that several hundred nutters walk (the really crazy run) 30 miles if the full route is selected or 20 miles for the short (short, 20 miles, there's a misnomer if ever one was). The route covers some of the most beautiful and awe inspiring scenery imaginable all within the Brecon national park and includes Pen-y-Fan, the highest point in South Wales, although the more immature (that's everyone involved then) enjoy Fan-y-Big much more.


However, for the second consecutive year, I was marshalling along with Tina and the kids. In simple terms, the job of the marshals is to simply assist Mike in ensuring that everyone that starts the challenge somehow ends up at the finish as well. Last year, we stayed up to greet the last finishers at 4am, this year it was a much more sociable midnight.


The event is extremely well organised and, it has to be said, a great deal of fun, at least for the marshals. The atmosphere and the camararderie is second to none between all the walkers and marshals alike; with the possible exception of one couple, the wife had enough and packed up the tent and drove off leaving other half on the mountains somewhere oblivious to this.

For much of the event this year, Victoria, Anthony and I set ourselves up along with Caroline in Checkpoint 3, the last before the end 5 or 7 miles away depending on which route you were walking. From this vantage point you would see most of the range of human emotion - elation for those relishing the last leg to those already on their last legs. I was driving the retirement vehicle for people that couldn't carry on. Reasons varying from blisters the size of a watermelon, to vomitting to one lady who was four months pregnant! Huge Kudos must go to one young lady who had a myriad of blisters on each ankle where her socks were. She removed her socks, had her legs bandaged, borrowed another pair of socks from Caroline and swapped shoes with her friend because they were lower cut. She carried on and completed the full course.


The kids also had a whale of a time. To all those who don't believe kids do anything more energetic than watch TV should have seen Vic and Anthony climb Pen-Y-Fan and carry on providing great help along with Beth and Jayne right up to the last walkers returned. If evidence were required, here they are at the top.

If a sense of irony were required, after volunteering at least in part as a first aider, Tina herself ended up sampling the best of Merthyr Tydfill's A&E department after her middle finger lost a fight with the caravan roof vent. Despite fears that it may be broken, it seems it had been dislocated leaving some soft flesh damage and an inability to now give the V sign with her right hand.

Apart from the fun and the challenge of the event, there is another side. The event is assisted by the Central Brecons mountain rescue team, Army Cadet Force and a number of local groups and organisations, all of whom recieve a donation in exchange for their help.

So, thanks to Mike and Cat for arranging another fantastic event. If it does (and I hope it does) make it to a third consecutive year, Tina and I are more than willing to help with anything we can and there is a ready supply of very eager small marshals. Oh,and Mike, if you read this, I intend to walk it next year.

I've gone and done it

Monday and Tuesday this week have been nothing if not eventful. Allow me to elaborate in chronological order:

Monday I had a test drive with Red Driving School in Cheltenham. It didn't occur to me that in the last five years I have driven (almost) exclusively a large people carrier with an automatic gearbox. Driving instructor's cars are, inevitably, small with a manual gearbox. So having given the thoroughly decent instructor chap a nervous breakdown when I told him, we set off in to the mean streets of dowtown Cheltenham. A very strange experience; some thirteen years ago I passed my driving test, possibly the best feeling being that I would never have to do it again yet here I am voluntarily doing it. However, after driving round the block a couple of times, a parallel park and reverse into a bay it obviously went well. I don't know if the instructor was more relieved or impressed with my driving, the beautiful smooth gear changes and impeccable positioning or the fact that his car was still intact, but he offered me a place in the driving school in exchange for me handing over my hard earned cash. Which I nearly did, I signed up so they can take the fee. In exchange I now have a bundle of driving related books, a handful of DVDs and CDs and access to an on-line learning resource. My relaxed life as doley now has some purpose and I will be spending all my free time studying. Give it a few months and I could be teaching the next generation of boy racers, sorry, responsible young people craving their freedom.

In the meantime, I am still entitled to sign on so long as I don't work more than sixteen hours, however, in pursuit of the mighty dollar I am looking for some part time temporary work for over Christmas. To these ends I have completed an on-line assessment including a personality profiling questionnaire for Royal Mail. Despite this I have been selected for interview. I may, temporarily at least, be forced to change my name to Pat.

Tuesday was sign on day. A bit of a let down, security didn't seem to be too busy and there wasn't a drunk in sight, in fact, there was barely anyone in sight other than the staff, but then I was there at 9am before your average unemployed is up. I gave up my paperwork to the "greeter" and was instructed to have a look on the job search machines whilst I waited. I didn't wait long before an apparently genuinly cheerful advisor called me through. I discussed, in principle at least, the whole driving thing and part time job idea. This was a good move, I'm firmly in the Job Centre comfort zone now. Technical management positions with real salaries? Sorry can't do those sir. Part time job on or near minimum wage? Way hay we know all about those. Have you tried Argos, Toys R Us, Tesco Sainsbury...... I think he ran out of breath before shops that were likely to be recruiting for Christmas.

"Yes," I replied - "I thought Royal Mail as well." There was no stopping him now, he had his breath back "Good idea. Curry's, Debenhams, British Home Stores, ooh don't forget The Quays, they'll all be recruiting."

I thanked him for his time, promised to return in a fortnight and made my exit. He may still be there rattling off more and more shops now.

What's next?

I'm quite enjoying being a gentleman of leisure. So far I have spent days on a bike (thanks for the advice Mr Tebbitt), several hours in the dole office, a day walking in the Cotswolds and I've trimmed my bush. However, I'm aware that I'm really being little use to anyone (please, no need for comment) and only have a certain amount of cash.

So to consider how to spend the next chapter of my working life. There are a couple of considerations here; one, naturally is that I need to make some money, I'm not greedy just enough to pay the bills, have a good time, several holidays a year, dine out lavishly on a near daily basis, that sort of thing. Secondly, I want to do something that I will enjoy and, hopefully, will be a benefit to society or at least individuals. I believe it was Confucius who once wrote: "Find a job you love, and you will never have to work another day in your life" and I quite fancy never working again so here we go.

A quick poll on Facebook received suggestions such as pole dancer, drag queen and escort. I'm afraid I may be seriously underqualified in certain areas for these. So, dear reader, please consider some options with me:

1. Do much the same techy, project type stuff as I have been doing since God was a boy. Pros: It's easy and I could fall into it reasonably quickly and earn cash. Cons: Frankly I'd rather stick needles in my eyes. Don't get me wrong, I rather enjoyed my job on the whole, the people were generally good and the money OK but really do need a chnage now and redundancy can be my springboard.

2. Teacher. Pros: Optimistically, I could be helping to provide kids with a future and be a role model for a whole load of disaffected kids. Cons: All them kids. The subjects I would be suited to teaching are compulsory so you're still teaching kids that don't see the need. On top of that, I don't have a degree so it could take forever to qualify.

3. Further Education tutor: Much the same considerations as above but for adults. Would be easier to qualify for, pays less.

4. Solicitor. I mean the type that deals in law here. This was, for a while top choice number one. However, the amount of study I would have to do, the amount that would cost and the time it would take when I would barely earn a bean is prohibitive.

5. Driving instructor. A bit out of left field this one perhaps? Damned expensive to start and nearly always self employed but hey, what's redundancy for if not to try and get you on your feet again? I remember the day I passed my test, I still maintain it was so I didn't have to spend another minute in the car with my awful instructor again, but I was elated and to see somebody that happy and to know you wre ea part of it can't be bad.

So the news is, I shall be handing over a large wad in trhe next few days and training to be a driving instructor. Hopefully, by new year I will be qualified enough to teach so if you know someone that could make use of an excellent driving instructor, you know where to find me.

On the Rock 'n' Roll

Those who know me will be aware that I am now redundant. Recent events combined with a certain amount of time on my hands have convinced me to blog my observations. I do not intend to mull over my redundancy process, that's history and not necessary to repeat. However, I have decided that after working for 20 some odd years, the time has come to bite the bullet and sign on. Some of you may be fortunate to have ever had to go into the dole office - sorry Jobcentre Plus; I have yet to find out what the plus is for, or to that matter what the Jobcentre part refers to. For those who have never tried it, go here and watch from about 1:08 for 10 seconds or so. If you are old enough, you may even remember Boys From The Blackstuff.

So to my experience. Twice now I have visited aforementioned office and twice I have witnessed the marvels of their security; allow me to illustrate:

Visit one, I am behind a woman with two teenage (ish) kids in tow:

Woman: But I haven't got any fookin' money

Jobcentre Guy: Sorry madam, you need to fill in the form and make an appointment

Woman: My kids haven't got any fookin' uniform and they go back tomorrow [you have had six weeks]

Jobcentre Guy: We are unable to give money out without your full co-operation and the correct procedure, you can make an appointment for later today.

I need not go on, in a blaze of fookin', fascist accusations and ripped up forms the woman was bundled out, kids following obediently behind.

I collect requisite forms and leave, meekly.

Visit two, appointment made, two days later, 10am, I return and am behind a Scottish gent surrounded already by more G4S employees than I knew existed.

Security: We are unable to see you in that state sir

Bloke: I have nae bin drinkin'

Security: It appears to us you have sir.

Bloke: Aye well mebbe a wee sip but that's all.

You can imagine this conversation isn't going far, cue bloke gets bundled out. Incidentally, when I left an hour or so later, he is in a heap outside still.

So to my interview. To their credit, Jobcentre Plus staff are, despite all they must put up with, nothing but courteous and friendly. It seems I have two interviews. One to go through my details, this is easy, just paperwork and stuff. The second is my Jobseeker's Agreement. In order to claim Jobseeker's Allowance, I have to prove I am looking for work. To these ends I have half a dozen pieces of paper stapled together on which I write down what I am doing to find a job, there is no further evidence asked of me, trusting or what? I have promised to do three things each WEEK to try and find a job. Without breaking my agreement, that could be:

Monday - Log onto Glosjobs.co.uk or similar and decide there is nothing

Tuesday - Have a shufty at the computer thingies in Jobcentre plus, after all I might as well, I have to go to sign on.

Wednesday - Quick butchers at the job section in the Citizen.

That's it, another busy week, best take the next four days off.

I will need a new booklet thingy next time sign on....

Finally, I though that I would use my dead time to become a useful member of society, after all it's about time so I thought some charity work might be in order; but no, whoah there. If I work, even unpaid for more than sixteen hours a week I'm entiltled to nothing, nill, nada, zilch. The reason - it means I am not available for work, still makes sense, after all most of the week they have got me on my toes looking for work.

Just remind me why there are so many long term employed?

I have been considering my next career move, but that's another post.