Affairs of the Heart

Crikey, where has this week gone.  I can’t believe it’s Friday again tomorrow.  Not that I’m complaining as it means the weekend.  They used to say time flew as you got older, as well as policemen looking younger etc.  But I think everyone feels the same these days, young and old.

Well today I had some nice news.  The company I have been temping for have asked if I would like to stay on for another couple of months.  I am currently in negotiation over hours to be worked, but it’s a good feeling that they want me to stay.   And if I can reduce my hours it will solve a lot of problems for me.

I have a project I am trying to get off the ground at the moment, which will be revealed slowly over the next few weeks, but the only time I am getting to work on it is at night.  This isn’t a problem at the weekends, but during the week I really need to be alert at work.

I think I also uncovered an office affair today.  Sometimes just by listening and watching you pick up more.  And to be honest, being a temp people don’t tend to want to get close to you, as you’re not there for long.

I’ve remedied that by listening and then going and talking to people and asking them questions about themselves.  Not prying questions, but about things that are talked about openly in the office.

The affair is a fairly new one but I spotted the signs when I first started and I happened to catch the pair holding hands at lunch today, which were quickly dropped when they saw me.

Being the diplomatic kind of person I am, I said nothing, inwardly smiled and pretended I hadn’t noticed.  I would imagine they will be more concerned about me saying something, but of course I won’t . . . . .

Posted in General | 2 Comments »

The journey begins

S is now two years old and we are paying our first visit to a speech therapist. He is not talking or understanding, but we don’t really know why, except that he does have glue ear. The paediatrician who tested him for the glue ear had mentioned the words developmental delay, but had not elaborated and I had been too stunned to ask.

I have been to this community clinic before and know that it is not child friendly. Parents are not allowed to take buggies inside and there is no parking on site, so it is a choice between finding some way to secure the buggy to the railings outside with a bicycle chain, or park in the street around the corner and carry or drag your toddler towards the clinic. I choose the latter.

The speech therapist works in a room on the first floor, with a small waiting area attached. S is even more impatient than your average toddler and I have, as always, bought a large bag of essentials, drinks and snacks. He starts to eat his way through a packet of custard cream biscuits, pulling them apart to bite out the cream and then discarding the biscuit on the floor.

The speech therapist is welcoming. It is a warm late spring day and the window is ajar to ventilate the room. As she tries in vain to attract the attention of a screaming S with toys, bubbles and shaving foam, he fights his way out of my arms and heads manically straight towards the open window. I catch him just in time and he sinks his teeth into my arm.

‘He must be very hard work for you,’ she says. ‘I think I need to refer him to a colleague at the hospital.’

We never see her again.

Posted in A Parallel Universe | 1 Comment »