Intermittent blogging.

Intermittent - that's ok if it's rain, only if it complies with smatters, or a smir. It is not ok with faults - then, oh my gosh, you just want the darned on and off offending item to be broken properly, so a nice person in a shop will say, oh, yeah, swap that.
My fridge is in that swapable state - it has a big sticker on it declaring - Write Off. The equivalent of, your fridge is so dead, it's super dead.

Um, yeah, trying to get another job. See, the thing is, this term I have done a lot of things I didn't think I could achieve on my own. Like interviewing, actual people, and then saying, please work for us. Like, being an employer, rather than an employee in my thoughts. Like, shaking a persons hands, and knowing in the first 60 seconds (it is all it takes), whether I'd choose that person or not.

Like, doing an appraisal on my own. In a cafe. It's where we do everything that isn't actually looking after little pixies. And being very brave and saying - is there anything I should change as a manager. Uniforms, was the reply. Is that it? I respond. Yes, I like working here, its a team.

Like, phoning social work so often I think they put me on speaker phone just for the laffs. It's her again! Give her another fax number to phone. Yeah, that's always funny.

Like, shouting at the council. But hey, lots of people do that. You are a pest, they say. Yeah, I am, pleeeease do the repair I need and then I'm outta your hair.

And the result of all that experience? On my job hunting? Er, nowt. Am I tied to forever wishing to work in a building whose roof doesn't leak?

The pixies all leak, but hey, they often do. That's what spare pants for. Though, as one little girl pixie informed me, pants are for peeeing through. Then, you sit down with the damp pants on, and then you pee again. So now you know.