Monday catch-up

It's been a little while since I actually updated anything properly about my life. I mean, I have shared some brief flashes of insight and talked at some length about books, films and music -- but what's actually going in my life?

Work is fine. There isn't much more to say about it than that -- I was reflecting today how I am far, far happier in this job than I was last year, in the call centre. I was looking at the calendar to see when Christmas was and when I'd probably have to work (probably any day that's not actually a national holiday) and it didn't fill me with dread and disgust. Sure, work is work -- it's a bit of a drag at times, and I get frustrated when I do something wrong, but generally it's alright. I continue to enjoy the people I work with, there is nobody I'd say I dislike which is a huge help.

I sometimes feel like I don't know enough about books and what's new out and whatever else. I certainly don't know enough about where books are in the store, particularly ones on display in the shop window! But every now and then a customer comes along that I can really help. Last week, there was an old lady in a mobility cart who wanted a poetry anthology, featuring Rudyard Kipling's poem If. I explained without a specific title to search for, I wouldn't be able to tell her what we had in stock -- but from my personal knowledge of poetry, I could guarantee we would have at least one such anthology. Unfortunately for her, the poetry was upstairs -- and she didn't seem keen on taking the lift.

Since it was quiet, I volunteered to go find her a book myself -- since I knew it would take me all of about a minute. The first book I picked up was a specific anthology of Rudyard Kipling. Good enough, sure -- but I could do better. I then found an anthology called something like Britain's best Loved poems -- a collection of popular works about Britain. It had the poem she wanted, and seemed to have an interesting variety, plus it wasn't expensive.

Other remarkable incidents have involved someone who didn't know the author or title, but wanted books about a female detective agency in Africa. I showed her exactly where to find Alexander McCall Smith's books. Another customer only vaguely knew the title of their book -- but by chance I was able to tell them they wanted He's Just Not That Into You and it would be under Popular Psychology. Today a customer started talking to my colleague with a vague enquiry about the short stories of Alexei Sayle. She said that she'd looked on Amazon and been unable to find any books. Off the top of my head, I said there are two I own personally -- The Dog Catcher and Barcelona Plates, but he's undoubtedly written more. Although I wasn't able to say without checking if he would be listed under fiction or humour.

It's times like that I can look like I know what I'm talking about. Other times, someone starts asking about a racing driver's autobiography that's in the window and I don't have a clue what they're talking about. Generally, I like the work, since I like books and I like trying to help customers (so long as they're nice to me).

I got a phone call today from a temp agency with regards to a permanent copy writer job in Essex. In Fact, it's in the same town where I worked in the call centre -- so I am willing to bet it will be for one of the companies in the two buildings where I worked. Suits me though -- so long as I'm not in the call centre, it wasn't such a horrible place to work. The only thing that makes me hesitate was the recruiter seemed to think the pay was quite poor -- I told her I wouldn't take less than £15k a year -- I'm a post-graduate, ferchrissake, with about 18 months combined experience working in the media. I should be asking for a good £10k more than that in London. Anyway, she still seemed concerned, so we shall see. It would be a good starting position, and can't pay worse than the book shop.

In other news, winter is closing in -- it's now like the middle of the night when I get home just after 5pm, and I've started needing my scarf in the mornings. This morning was one such crisp morning, and it was nice -- I don't mind the cold if I can wrap up warm. Since today is November 5, there was also a distinct lingering smell of gunpowder in the air, and the occasional split and soggy rocket lying in the gutter. I didn't bother going to any organised display this year, I wasn't that interested. I'd wanted to go to the cinema that night -- but it seems nobody else was interested in that.

Speaking of uninterested, a friend asked me last week if I wanted two tickets to see the Sex Pistols. At first I said I'd have to think about it, but then I thought I should say yes more -- and how many opportunities like this do you get? So I said yes. I'm now £80 lighter for a pair of tickets (or will be, eventually, since I'm paying him back in weekly instalments because I'm poor) and a week later no closer to finding anyone that wants to go with me. To be fair, a few people have said they would have liked to go, but can't -- Jon said he'd try (even though I don't think he was that interested) but has been unable to get time off work. A guy I know from volunteering was very keen to come -- but likewise couldn't get the night off. I even asked Laura, whom I used to work with -- she said she was broke, but seemed interested. But it turns out she's in Scotland for the rest of the week. China Blue would probably have come -- since she likes to say yes more -- but unfortunately for me, she's on holiday somewhere hot and sunny.

My first choices of invitees all turned me down flat: I met Claire at a punk gig! But she wasn't interested. Pete plays in punk bands! But says the Sex Pistols aren't really his thing. I don't get these people. I think I must have eventually asked everyone in my phone's address book. I even emailed Tony Wright from Terrorvision and Laika Dog. It's not quite as random as it sounds, he and I have exchanged emails in the past and he added me as his friend on Facebook a while back. It would be perhaps the absolutely strangest night ever if I should happen to end up going with him, but he probably thinks I'm a mentalist. That or that Brixton is a bit too far from Yorkshire for a night out.

And to close, I watched a DVD at the weekend called What The Bleep Do We Know!? that had been exhaustively recommended to me. It's about Quantum Physics, but also the nature of the universe and how we directly influence the universe and reality and pretty much how we get the reality we choose. It sucked. It was one of the biggest piles of crap I have ever seen. The arguments or points of view about how influence reality and stuff was all very interesting, I give it that -- but it tired to have some kind of storyline which was awful and occasionally would start using animations that were patronising and irritating. These two parts combined to annoy me so much that I didn't get that much out of the whole point of it. If there is a book it was based on, I might read that instead.