Before I’m named and shamed by Health Professions’ Council*, I have to point out that I did not “get pissed with the techy guy” at work on Friday - that was obviously a typo on my part  .  That said, it would certainly have made my afternoon more interesting if a really fit IT guy with a nice bottle of rosé had turned up to fix my PC.  Maybe next time …

*Oh yes, worryingly, it happens.

Last Wednesday morning my class was taken by someone else and I was able to sit and observe.  It was the first time in ages that I’d actually had nothing to do.  I mean, I obviously had something to do, i.e. observe her teaching and learn from it.  But while the students were writing or getting on with other tasks, I was able to daydream and think about myself for once.  I started to relax … I hadn’t felt like that for a long time. 

And I then I realised the reason why I haven’t been feeling relaxed: a constant nagging feeling that I haven’t quite finished everything and that there’s still something more that ‘needs’ to be done.

Partly this is true.  At (my speech therapy) work there are always more reports to be done, and there’s always other stuff that’s outstanding or overdue.  I also have plenty of things that need doing at home … cleaning to do, letters to write, things to sell on ebay, people to call etc …  Normal stuff, that everyone has to do.

But mainly my problem is accepting that this feeling is irrational.  There are always going to be more things that ‘need’ to be done.  As Richard Carlson would say, my ‘inbox’ will never be empty - that’s the nature of an inbox.  And if it ever is, then I may as well give up - an empty inbox makes for a dull life. 

So, in the last week, I’ve been trying to chill a bit.  Leaving work early, and trying not to let this feeling of ’unfinishedness’ totally consume me.

Not sure how long it’ll last.

I was feeling pretty apathetic about the football until I got home from work and L. announced he would be commandeering the remote control from 7 till 10pm this evening.  He almost had a seizure when I mentioned that The Apprentice was on at 9 o’clock and that I was rather keen on watching that.  So now I am sulking in the other room, though I can hear the TV through the thin walls of this flat.  Since he’s a Man U fan, I’m now really hoping that Chelsea win.  Plus Frank Lampard is an Essex boy and José Mourinho is pretty sexy and did funny things.  (Yes, I know he’s not the manager anymore (before someone points that out) but it’s another reason to support the blues).  It’s 1-0 to Manchester United at the moment… not looking good.  

Oooh! Oooh!  I think Chelsea may have scored!  I can hear the cheers and L. is being strangely silent.

Half time.  Can’t believe I am writing about football.  I never watch it - unless it’s an international game. 

45 minutes left.  I wonder if it’s worth watching the end of The Apprentice or whether I should watch it on-line?  I was so looking forward to seeing it today.  My allegiances have changed completely now.  I think Raef is cool, in spite of his strange eyes, and I have a soft spot for Lucinda.  I’ve gone off Alex … and Michael has turned out to be a complete wally (cf. the whole Halal/Kosher debacle).

Changing the subject, I tried to introduce the concept of emailing to my Bangladeshi students today (five women in their early twenties).  It turned out to be a real palaver!  They have only just begun to use computers - the first time we used them in class, they didn’t know how to turn them on.  It took the whole afternoon to help them set up a hotmail account each, and for them to get the knack of writing an email and pressing send.  They kept typing in each others’ email addresses incorrectly (e.g. using spaces where none were required) and clicking on all sorts of things that they shouldn’t, so I spent half the afternoon closing down ‘On-line Poker’ pop-ups. 

And after all the effort, I don’t think they could really see the point of emailing someone in the same room!  My suggestion that they could use it to keep in touch with family back home didn’t seem to hold much appeal, either…  I think they kind of enjoyed it, though …  Maybe one day they’ll see the emailing light.

3 minutes of the match left.  It’s going to extra-time.  Oh dear, looks like I won’t be seeing the end of The Apprentice after all, then.

Post-match analysis:  OK, I admit it.  In the end, it was quite exciting with the penalties and everything.  And I’m not that bothered about Chelsea losing as I only really started supporting them this evening in an act of rebellion!  Still annoyed about missing The Apprentice, though.  Need to try to avoid speaking to anyone about it before I get to see it - don’t want to know who got fired!

I am really pleased with the progress my students have made since they started their course.  However, after marking their latest lot of homework (writing about what they did at the weekend), I wonder whether I should actually be reporting one of them to the police …

“On Saturday I went to Sainsbury.  After I came back home.  After that I gave food to my children.  On Sunday I did the wandry [laundry] then I cooked and served my family”.

That’s got to be against the law, hasn’t it?

What I like about my job

• I can wear jeans to work.
• The salary/ pension is reasonable.
• I am largely independent.
• Some of my colleagues.
• I am interested in language development - at least in an academic, theoretical way.
• Phonetic transcription.

What I don’t like about my job

• SLTs are a homogeneous bunch:  white women in their twenties and thirties, mainly.
• This means there are very few men in the profession.  In the Trust I work in at the moment, there are no male SLTs AT ALL!  My previous Trust was quite remarkable in that we had three male SLTs … quite a coup!
• There is always more to be done.  I never go home from work having finished everything.
• I often take work home.  Although I am really trying not too as much, Norman (before you tell me off!)
• I am frequently by myself in the clinic (I’m the only SLT based where I work).
• There is so much fucking paperwork.
• Agenda for Change.  Under this NHS reform, SLTs lost 2 days’ annual leave per year.  We are also required to work 37.5 instead of 35 hours per week FOR THE SAME PAY!  (Many SLTs work way more than they should, anyway - but that’s not the point).
• Not having time to keep up with all the SLT literature … although it’s all such a yawn anyway, so it’s probably for the best!
• Colleagues who are on higher banded jobs who don’t do any reading AT ALL, and do the same type of therapy year in year out without stopping to think about clinical effectiveness.  (I’m thinking of one or two people in my previous Trust, in particular).
• Having to pay to be a member of the Royal College of Speech and Language Therapists and Health Professions’ Council (both mandatory for NHS therapists) … and the fact that RCSLT membership fees are the same whether you are a lowly band 5 or a super high earning manager on band 8c.  I keep meaning to write to the RCSLT’s magazine about this but haven’t got round to it yet.  Apathy.
• In my previous Trust, having some people who were doing almost exactly the same job as me (and in some cases not as well as me) earning £10,000 a year more because they were on band 7 and I was on band 5.  Agenda for Change was supposed to ensure that people got equal pay for equal work.  Yeah, right.

STILL MORE RANTING TO COME FOLKS …

I feel a massive moan coming on.  And the gist of it will be … I FUCKING WELL HATE MY JOB!

I really need to change things soon, before I go completly mad.

I am really tired - not sure why.  I went to bed at 10.30 last night and got up at seven this morning so I shouldn’t be feeling this tired.  Eight and a half hours’ sleep should be enough, shouldn’t it?  Maybe I’m ill.  Maybe I’m just tired of London and working like a lunatic with no real plan and no goals in sight.  Maybe the glass of wine I’ve just consumed is contributing. 

I really can’t drink anymore …  Not like when I was an 18 year old undergraduate and had just ‘discovered’ alcohol.  I drank ridiculous amounts of cheap booze in my first year at uni.  On Friday evenings, my housemates and I would each go and buy a a cheap bottle of Lambrusco from the Happy Shopper on the corner, which we would then drink BEFORE heading out to the pub for several pints of beer or cider. 

I have a vivid memory (a feely type of memory rather than a visual one) of running home from the pub feeling totally free and uninhibited and thinking how wonderful it felt to be intoxicated.  And I hardly ever got a hangover - God knows what damage I did to my liver … 

Now I’m the total opposite and I rarely drink.  My glass of wine at home this evening is a real rarity;  and I can’t remember the last time I had a beer.  On average I probably drink about one glass of wine every two weeks now.  No more binge-drinking for me.

What am I gassing on about?

Tomorrow I have an early start so I’m going to be heading off to bed shortly.  I’ve got two children booked in for initial assessments tomorrow morning, followed by an afternoon of report-writing.  Heaven.  Not.

But seriously… you must all be sick of me moaning about my job … and wondering why I’m not doing anything about it.

Well, actually I am … or rather I have done.  You’ll be pleased to hear that I now only prostitute myself work three days a week as a speech and language therapist, and the other two days I work as an ESOL teacher!  I alluded to this job in the past, but never actually got round to writing about it.  It’s much more fun than SLT … but unfortunately while the pay as a sessional tutor (my current role) is reasonable, the pay for a full-timer is not brilliant.  I was offered a full-time teaching post in the organisation that I work in, but it would have meant taking a £10,000 a year pay cut.  And my salary as an SLT is not that huge, so you can understand why I had to turn it down. 

Of course, what I would really like to do is give up work altogether.  I wouldn’t get bored at all.  (I can’t understand people who say they would carry on working if they won the lottery).  I wouldn’t sit around on my arse, of course.  I’d travel and read and cook and build a house and learn more languages and grow my own vegetables and spend more time with my family and friends … and many more things besides.

*Sigh*.  It’s not going to happen, is it?  I don’t even do the lottery.

Gonna stopping blethering now and quickly check my Facebook page before I log off.  I’m currently being thrashed by Mathschick at Scrabulous, but have just managed to beat another one of my friends (a right cocky little so-and-so who deserves all he gets) by a decent margin.  Good stuff. 

Goodnight everyone!

Someone at my workplace is annoyed, and has been putting up angry notices.

Maybe learning how to spell and write in grammatically correct sentences would be a better use of their time.

Well, I survived my first day back at work.

I ended up leaving later than I had planned to this evening - 7.15pm  (not good) … but then I did arrive at the shockingly late time of 10.25 this morning (couldn’t get out of bed), so perhaps I shouldn’t complain.

I had such a lovely break over Christmas and hardly thought about work at all.  Unfortunately, this meant that it took me about two hours to get my brain into gear and work out what I was supposed to be doing with the 24 files on my desk when I eventually did arrive.

The pain of working was eased considerably by two exciting deliveries to my workplace.  The first of these was a Riverford organic veg box!  Yes, after months of reading the Veg Box Diaries (and salivating at every post) I took the plunge and decided to order a mini veg box this week.

The box cost £7.90 and contained:

a bag of 9 medium-sized potatoes;

3 medium-sized onions;

a small cauliflower;

a medium-sized bag of kale;

a bag of 8 small to medium-sized carrots (with lots of mud);

and a medium-sized swede

I was a little disappointed by the amount of packaging on the veg: the potatoes were in a paper sachet, the onions in a net and the carrots in a (compostable) plastic-type bag, all of which were superfluous in my opinion.  The kale was also in a bag, but I think that’s justifiable - shame it seems to be made of non-compostable plastic, though.  The box itself is pretty cool and can be returned for re-use.  I wonder whether they take back the plastic bags come to think of it?  I’ll have to check with Maths Chick.

I am not sure how the box compares in terms of cost with supermarket/ market/ corner shop veg.  Probably more expensive … but then it is organic, grown in the UK and delivered to the door.  I do wonder whether I should be buying from a grower somewhere closer to home, however… although buying from Devon has got to be better than buying supermarket veg from, say, South Africa (in food miles terms, I mean).  As I write this I am cooking some of the potatoes … I’ll let you know how they taste.

The second delivery to the clinic was a new phone!  Hooray!  I am now the proud owner of a  Nokia 6500, which seems to do … well,  just does about everything, in fact!  I am very pleased that I am no longer going to have to use my crappy (spare) phone that needs to be recharged about every ten minutes (not very green at all).  However, I did feel a bit guilty about getting a new phone as I once read that you should keep a phone for seven years (or was it three?) before getting a new one in order for it to become carbon neutral (can a mobile phone EVER be carbon neutral??).  I toyed with the idea of getting a second hand/ reconditioned one … but it actually worked out cheaper for me to get a new one (ludicrous).  Of course, if my lovely Nokia 6280 hadn’t been stolen in the first place, I wouldn’t have had this dilemma … 

Gonna go and eat my potatoes now.  Bangers and mash - yum.