survival

Dog Eat Dog

When Human Remains get involved in the shenanigans at the School for Naughty Children, it becomes obvious that changes are to take place.  And not just any changes, oh no.  These must be Big Changes, otherwise my boss would just get on and make them regardless.  She’s not one for listening to anything the county council have to say, usually.

She wants rid.  The nasty R word.  Nastier than rid. 

The teaching staff are safe [in fact, the teaching staff are so safe that she’s been able to employ two new teachers, starting in September.]  Nearly all the administration staff are safe.  Which just leaves me, and the other five Teaching Assistants.  Between us we are three full-time and three part-time.  She needs to whittle it down to the equivalent of two full-time.

She needs to save some money.  She stressed that it isn’t happening for financial reasons, but the fact that she needs to stress that it isn’t just proves that it is.

My head is in a bit of a muddle today. 

The arrogant, egotistical, big-headed part of my brain knows thinks that I’m safe.  Whether it be full-time or part-time as a jobshare, I know think that one of the two positions is mine if I want it.  I know, my arrogance is horrifying.  Ms Hippy thinks I have nothing to worry about, Bubbly thinks the new job description and person specification was written with me in mind, and even Dotty and Old-Hat have admitted they will be surprised if I don’t get it [if I express an interest in it, obviously.]

[aside: if i do express an interest and then don’t get it, please feel free to laugh at my expense – i will deserve it]

Apparently my boss has even told Ms Hippy to tell me that the essential bit about having the ability to travel shouldn’t put me off expressing an interest.  Ms Hippy told her to tell me herself, but then told me anyway, and we laughed because Ms Hippy thinks that my boss is scared of me.  Ha. 

Ha.

I told Ms Hippy that I thought the wording had probably been with me in mind, as a non-driver.  That’s arrogance for you.

But, there’s a part of me that feels sick to the stomach, and panicky.  I work with some amazing people and I’m proud to call them my fellow TAs. We’ve laughed together, grumbled together and even cried together.  We regularly put the world to rights, and we’re very supportive and protective of each other.  I love [most of] them to pieces.  The threat of redundancy creates an air of paranoia and mistrust.  It shouldn’t do that.  I have Guilt sitting on my shoulder telling me that I don’t have children and that my husband earns good money.  Pity bops me on the head [lovingly] and suggests that I just leave because I can’t bear to see anybody else upset and worried.  And Fidget stumbles by to take me by the hand, and guide me along the long and dangerous road of Maybe It’s Time To Move On

I would say that I don’t know what to do, that I’m lost and confused.  But this would be a fib.  I know what I want, and I know think I can get it.  I just don’t want to see other people get hurt in the process, and I worry that Pity and Guilt will cause me to do or say things that I don’t really want or mean …

Why is grow’d up life so bloody difficult?  And why am I so cock-sure of myself right now when usually I’m the first one to belittle myself?  Is it survival instinct? I don’t really like it, whatever it is …

*sigh*

please God make everything hunky-dory xxx Elsabeth

Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.

This last week has seemed so matter-of-fact that it’s been almost surreal. 

There’s been bank statements to rifle through, unexpected loans to discover, worries about how a non-driver [my MiL] will cope living in a tiny village with no shop and no bus route to speak of, considerations of a car that needs selling and a caravan that needs staying in, vicars to meet and sympathy cards to wade through …

I’ve been spared most of it.  My life has continued in as near normal a way as possible.  There’s a part of me who feels like an outsider stepping on toes and getting in the way, although I do know that I’m not.  I don’t know how they truly feel because I’ve never had to suffer the anguish of losing someone in my immediate family.  I only know how sad I am and how much I shall miss him, and that can’t begin to compare with how they feel.  Even with the close family members whom I have lost it hasn’t been the same.  My three grandparents all reached the age of ninety and both my aunts suffered from cancer – all those deaths were expected for many weeks, if not months, before they occurred.  That’s not to say that they were any less painful, but they were different. 

I think that it’s finally beginning to sink in that he won’t be sitting in his chair, watching his Grand Prix, letting us borrow maps from where he worked [which he wasn’t supposed to do, no sir], for me at least.  He won’t get to watch his new ‘Allo ‘Allo! DVDs, enjoy lunch at The Ritz [a Christmas present from my BiL] or watch the cars whizz by at Silverstone [his sixtieth birthday present from all of us] this year. 

This week we have the funeral to get through, and that will be tough.  And [if you’ll excuse the awful pun] that will be the final nail in the coffin.  Once that is over it’s do or die, sink or swim … there’s a finality there that doesn’t bear thinking about even though it’s natural.  Life has to go on. 

That saddens me … that life continues on.  The world continues spinning and people go about their daily business.  That even those affected by death still need to eat, drink and sleep.  That we can still laugh and find happiness even at a time when we should be feeling miserable.  But I suspect that’s natural.  Survival instincts.  Without those instincts the human race would have died out long ago. 

But it’s still sad.

[in other news, i’m pissed off with something that’s happened at work, i feel absolutely drained, i finally have ‘proper’ hayfever (after many years where it was simply ‘pretend’ hayfever), i desperately need to sort out the cupboard under the stairs and i also need to look after my blokey, and why-oh-why were the manics on some dodgy political type but let’s talk about anything sunday morning show?  oh, and who will do the tiling now?]

please God bless the family as they get through this coming week xxx Elsabeth