I went to a party last night. There was food and then dancing. I love to dance especially if there is plenty of room to beetle about the dancefloor. It happens so rarely these days that I really relish the opportunity and if the music is favourable I can keep going all night.
It's also highly distracting to watch other people dance. Most people have one style which they adapt to suit the speed of the music that is playing. It's as if you get to a particular age and are then destined to dance in one style for ever. A few people have different dances for different genres - I think I may fall into this catagory although it does all get a bit repetitive when I get tired. Then there are the people who truely do not care either because they have had enough to drink to remove all inhibitions or they didn't have any inhibitions in the first place. People like that are a joy to watch but really rather rare. There were only a couple there last night but as I danced for most of the night I didn't really get chance to watch them.
I sing too. I really can't help it. Dancing makes me happy and so does singing. In light of this I wonder why it's something that I do so rarely. Note to self. Dance more.
Sunday, 14 December 2008
Thursday, 11 December 2008
THE CHRISTMAS DO
My husband is out on his Christmas Do this evening. Drinking early, some overpriced and badly cooked food and then embarrassing dancing. Sounds like the ingredients for a dreadful evening but in fact I really miss the office Christmas do.
When I was working each department had its own do and it depended on your own area of expertise as to which one or ones you were invited to. Some were a real no no. The Commercial Property do was one to be avoided. Too many middle aged partners in charge. As employment lawyers we had feet in a number of camps. Technically as litigators we would have to go to that one. Not too bad. Usually quite entertaining and generous partners so plenty of booze.
However, without a shadow of a doubt the Do to be at was the Corporate department. All that testosterone meant that there were always plenty of stags with their antlers clashing. Also, the secretaries knew how to party and because they were always being asked to stay ridiculously late to close deals they expected to be pampered with edible food and plenty of booze. In return they got dressed up to the nines and painted the town the brightest shade of red that the paintbox can offer. Fortunately, because my role mainly encompassed corporate employment stuff, I always managed to get myself a legitimate invitation . So for weeks beforehand outfits were discussed, bought, returned and rebought to ensure that the balance between the demure and yet sexy was absolutely perfect. At this point I should point out that I was very junior and unmarried and so trying to look demure and yet sexy was perfectly acceptable and very much expected.
Anyway, it was always a really good night. The partners all tried to outdo each other by how much champagne they could buy. The secretaries all drank far more of it than was good for them and a fair amount of inappropriate snogging went on in dark corners. As I said, a good night out and one which kept us going with gossip well into the new year.
The ubiquitous Christmas Do also had another, less obvious bonus for us employment lawyers. They always led to lots more work for us in January. Whether it was the junior employee acting in an insubordinate manner after one pint too many or the boss trying it on in an unwelcome fashion it often resulted in some disciplinary tangle or other. Many a job was forfeited by ill advised actions at the Christmas do and we were always there to pick up the pieces.
Which brings me nicely back to my thought for this evening. I wish I had a Christmas do to go to - not like the ones of my youth which sadly I have grown out of and can never be repeated now that I am in my forties. No, any sort of Christmas do would be nice. The shops are full of beautiful party dresses. Daytime tv is awash with articles on how to put your hair up or apply false eyelashes ( although I am not sure why as, if you watch day time tv you surely have no do to go to like me) and here I am . At home. Imogen Clark At Home. I shall organise a Christmas do for all those people who don't have an office do to go to. Still, it's not the same if you don't see your boss try to dance with his assistant and trip over a paper hat on his way to the loo. Oh well. Maybe next year....
When I was working each department had its own do and it depended on your own area of expertise as to which one or ones you were invited to. Some were a real no no. The Commercial Property do was one to be avoided. Too many middle aged partners in charge. As employment lawyers we had feet in a number of camps. Technically as litigators we would have to go to that one. Not too bad. Usually quite entertaining and generous partners so plenty of booze.
However, without a shadow of a doubt the Do to be at was the Corporate department. All that testosterone meant that there were always plenty of stags with their antlers clashing. Also, the secretaries knew how to party and because they were always being asked to stay ridiculously late to close deals they expected to be pampered with edible food and plenty of booze. In return they got dressed up to the nines and painted the town the brightest shade of red that the paintbox can offer. Fortunately, because my role mainly encompassed corporate employment stuff, I always managed to get myself a legitimate invitation . So for weeks beforehand outfits were discussed, bought, returned and rebought to ensure that the balance between the demure and yet sexy was absolutely perfect. At this point I should point out that I was very junior and unmarried and so trying to look demure and yet sexy was perfectly acceptable and very much expected.
Anyway, it was always a really good night. The partners all tried to outdo each other by how much champagne they could buy. The secretaries all drank far more of it than was good for them and a fair amount of inappropriate snogging went on in dark corners. As I said, a good night out and one which kept us going with gossip well into the new year.
The ubiquitous Christmas Do also had another, less obvious bonus for us employment lawyers. They always led to lots more work for us in January. Whether it was the junior employee acting in an insubordinate manner after one pint too many or the boss trying it on in an unwelcome fashion it often resulted in some disciplinary tangle or other. Many a job was forfeited by ill advised actions at the Christmas do and we were always there to pick up the pieces.
Which brings me nicely back to my thought for this evening. I wish I had a Christmas do to go to - not like the ones of my youth which sadly I have grown out of and can never be repeated now that I am in my forties. No, any sort of Christmas do would be nice. The shops are full of beautiful party dresses. Daytime tv is awash with articles on how to put your hair up or apply false eyelashes ( although I am not sure why as, if you watch day time tv you surely have no do to go to like me) and here I am . At home. Imogen Clark At Home. I shall organise a Christmas do for all those people who don't have an office do to go to. Still, it's not the same if you don't see your boss try to dance with his assistant and trip over a paper hat on his way to the loo. Oh well. Maybe next year....
Thursday, 4 December 2008
SOGGY SNOW
I really don't like people who use their creative output vehicles to moan. It's such an easy way to pen a few witty words by making observations on the world around you and then moaning about it. The BBC seems to use half its licence fee indulging old actors and journalists to do exactly that. It doesn't require much thought or reasoned argument and most people of a certain age can relate to it but it's a lazy way to write.
That said, this morning I can't help myself. SNOW. Snow is only any fun if you are skiing and the snow is deep and crisp and the sky is the purest blue and you are surrounded by a breathtakingly beautiful Alpine scene. The rest of the time it's a right royal pain.
All week the Met office have been predicting snow of gargantuan proportions. Ever since that hurricane that wasn't they have covered themselves by predicting the most extreme weather conditions. Occasionally they are right but the accurate prediction of snow seems to defeat them.
Of course, in the light of such voices of doom, the media ( which has nothing better to do since the invention of 24 hour news) goes in to overdrive and winds the whole country in to a frenzy of anticipation. It as at this point that I start to lose my rag. Notwithstanding the fact that the snow predictions for my part of the world are rarely correct, people in positions of power ( and my particular bug bear today is head teachers) start cancelling things. This all occurs despite the fact that they do not know how much snow there will be. They just listen to the media hype and over react. Yesterday the senior school decided to close before a flake had even tumbled gently from the sky.
And so, we wake this morning and open our curtains to see a thin covering. Even at 6.30 our suburban road was easily passable, clear tracks being visible in the slush. It's not even cold so there is no ice to speak of. Shame we haven't got the 8 inches that they predicted but, hey, we didn't really expect it.
Then the phone starts to ring. Lots of mothers twittering about what to do. Ilkley is a very small town. Barely any pupils live more that a 15 minute walk from school. There is hardly any snow and what there is is melting fast. But, as the Head is concerned for the welfare of his staff he will only have the school open for children of parents who work. Is this because teachers cannot drive through slush? When I had a proper job if you failed to turn up on a snowy day and personnel, on checking with British Rail, discovered that the trains were getting through then you were docked a day's holiday if you failed to make it. But that is the real world rather than the one populated by academics.
But, and I do apologise for going on but I am on a roll now, half the teaching staff and almost all the classroom assistants live in Ilkley. I am dismayed.
I know I should be pleased to have my children marauding through the house with hundreds of soggy and over excited friends leaving boots, wet gloves and chunks of ice in their wake but clearly I am not a good enough mother and I would rather they were all at school doing what they are supposed to do, learning that life goes on no matter what the weather and that snow can provide a bit of a distraction at playtime. Hear endeth the lesson. Sorry.
That said, this morning I can't help myself. SNOW. Snow is only any fun if you are skiing and the snow is deep and crisp and the sky is the purest blue and you are surrounded by a breathtakingly beautiful Alpine scene. The rest of the time it's a right royal pain.
All week the Met office have been predicting snow of gargantuan proportions. Ever since that hurricane that wasn't they have covered themselves by predicting the most extreme weather conditions. Occasionally they are right but the accurate prediction of snow seems to defeat them.
Of course, in the light of such voices of doom, the media ( which has nothing better to do since the invention of 24 hour news) goes in to overdrive and winds the whole country in to a frenzy of anticipation. It as at this point that I start to lose my rag. Notwithstanding the fact that the snow predictions for my part of the world are rarely correct, people in positions of power ( and my particular bug bear today is head teachers) start cancelling things. This all occurs despite the fact that they do not know how much snow there will be. They just listen to the media hype and over react. Yesterday the senior school decided to close before a flake had even tumbled gently from the sky.
And so, we wake this morning and open our curtains to see a thin covering. Even at 6.30 our suburban road was easily passable, clear tracks being visible in the slush. It's not even cold so there is no ice to speak of. Shame we haven't got the 8 inches that they predicted but, hey, we didn't really expect it.
Then the phone starts to ring. Lots of mothers twittering about what to do. Ilkley is a very small town. Barely any pupils live more that a 15 minute walk from school. There is hardly any snow and what there is is melting fast. But, as the Head is concerned for the welfare of his staff he will only have the school open for children of parents who work. Is this because teachers cannot drive through slush? When I had a proper job if you failed to turn up on a snowy day and personnel, on checking with British Rail, discovered that the trains were getting through then you were docked a day's holiday if you failed to make it. But that is the real world rather than the one populated by academics.
But, and I do apologise for going on but I am on a roll now, half the teaching staff and almost all the classroom assistants live in Ilkley. I am dismayed.
I know I should be pleased to have my children marauding through the house with hundreds of soggy and over excited friends leaving boots, wet gloves and chunks of ice in their wake but clearly I am not a good enough mother and I would rather they were all at school doing what they are supposed to do, learning that life goes on no matter what the weather and that snow can provide a bit of a distraction at playtime. Hear endeth the lesson. Sorry.
Monday, 1 December 2008
DECEMBER AT LAST
Today I became festive. Up until now it has all seemed a long way off. I have been full of anticipation for Christmas this year because I thought that for once I would have plenty of time to immerse myself in the preparations instead of having to do everything at breakneck speed between play group sessions. However, somehow I didn't seem to have the level of excitment that I usually have. I have been going through the motions. Of course I am very well organised and have almost bought everything we need but I wasn't a bit Christmassy.
That all changed this morning. After we had all rushed round saying "White Rabbits" and punching each other for the first of the month, the children realised that the advent calendars were out. I say calendars because over the years the Clark family tradition has built it up to four calendars - one for each child. First we had a lovely refillable Christmas tree into which I put chocolate treats ( very small ones these days as each little pocket has to have four chocolates and room for a little finger to get them out.) Then we have a candle which is my favorite but which invariably burns down passed its alloted mark because I forget to blow it out. Next a traditional card one ( this year it's a nativity scene ) with pictures behind the doors. Finally, there is a Playmobil one. Each day the children take it in turns to open a little box and put its contents on the snowy scene provided building up to a festive street scene by the 24th. Sadly, it is not really designed for four because whoever does the first day gets birds and bits of snow on subsequent days and the child who opens the fourth box gets people and Father Christmas.
The older ones now draw up a strict rota as to who does what on each day. It's really complicated but I keep out of it and they sort it out between themselves. However, I noticed that the big ones didn't rota themselves in for the birds and bits of snow.
Anyway, we did all that and everyone got horribly overexcited and then it began to snow so how festive was that? So, spurred on by that I painted the sugar paste fruits for the top of my cake gold, wrapped lots of presents, ordered the turkey and made some mince pies. Roll on Christmas.
That all changed this morning. After we had all rushed round saying "White Rabbits" and punching each other for the first of the month, the children realised that the advent calendars were out. I say calendars because over the years the Clark family tradition has built it up to four calendars - one for each child. First we had a lovely refillable Christmas tree into which I put chocolate treats ( very small ones these days as each little pocket has to have four chocolates and room for a little finger to get them out.) Then we have a candle which is my favorite but which invariably burns down passed its alloted mark because I forget to blow it out. Next a traditional card one ( this year it's a nativity scene ) with pictures behind the doors. Finally, there is a Playmobil one. Each day the children take it in turns to open a little box and put its contents on the snowy scene provided building up to a festive street scene by the 24th. Sadly, it is not really designed for four because whoever does the first day gets birds and bits of snow on subsequent days and the child who opens the fourth box gets people and Father Christmas.
The older ones now draw up a strict rota as to who does what on each day. It's really complicated but I keep out of it and they sort it out between themselves. However, I noticed that the big ones didn't rota themselves in for the birds and bits of snow.
Anyway, we did all that and everyone got horribly overexcited and then it began to snow so how festive was that? So, spurred on by that I painted the sugar paste fruits for the top of my cake gold, wrapped lots of presents, ordered the turkey and made some mince pies. Roll on Christmas.
Sunday, 23 November 2008
A HICCUP
This is harder that I thought. You spend years planning what you will do when your youngest goes to school. You build it up to this to some kind of promised land and dream about all the self indulgent ways that you can spend your newly aquired time. My youngest has been in full time education for two months and already things seem to be going off in an unpredicted direction. As I thought might happen I seem to be moving more slowly. When I had very little time to do my housework I did everything at breakneck speed. Now I seem to be spending almost all my time doing what I fitted into 6 hours previously.That's not good.
The second problem that I am encountering is a distinct lack of enthusiam for any of the projects that seemed so enticing when I didn't have time. I suspect that part of the reason is the change of the clocks. I always find the changing of the season down into winter very draining. I am a summer girl and get a bit low as the nights draw in and the weather deteriorates to an overcast chill.
However, I think I am just having more difficulty slotting into my new life style than I could ever have predicted. I need to come up with some new tactics.
The second problem that I am encountering is a distinct lack of enthusiam for any of the projects that seemed so enticing when I didn't have time. I suspect that part of the reason is the change of the clocks. I always find the changing of the season down into winter very draining. I am a summer girl and get a bit low as the nights draw in and the weather deteriorates to an overcast chill.
However, I think I am just having more difficulty slotting into my new life style than I could ever have predicted. I need to come up with some new tactics.
Thursday, 16 October 2008
FIVE DAYS.
Well, that's a strange thing. I have been ill. I am never ill. I have taken to my bed once in the last 8 1/2 years. Well, that's twice now. And when you are ill and can't really function, it doesn't half make you count your blessings.
I was unwell for five days. For two of those I was fit for nothing and in bed or equivalent. For the other three I kept the bare essentials going but did nothing else. Now I am hugely behind in almost all the things that I hoped to achieve and will have to try to catch up next week. Five days.
I have friends with real illness, life threatening things who have been totally debilitated for months on end relying on friends and relations for all their needs. They have to deal with their own fears and the fears of those close to them whilst protecting the children. They can't remember what it feels like to feel well because it has been so long since they took something as fundemental as well being for granted. Being ill is a full time occupation. Five days.
I am well again. A bit thin and low on power but better. If I believed in God I would thank Him for my health. As it is I shall just have to continue to count my lucky stars.
I was unwell for five days. For two of those I was fit for nothing and in bed or equivalent. For the other three I kept the bare essentials going but did nothing else. Now I am hugely behind in almost all the things that I hoped to achieve and will have to try to catch up next week. Five days.
I have friends with real illness, life threatening things who have been totally debilitated for months on end relying on friends and relations for all their needs. They have to deal with their own fears and the fears of those close to them whilst protecting the children. They can't remember what it feels like to feel well because it has been so long since they took something as fundemental as well being for granted. Being ill is a full time occupation. Five days.
I am well again. A bit thin and low on power but better. If I believed in God I would thank Him for my health. As it is I shall just have to continue to count my lucky stars.
Sunday, 5 October 2008
MY JOB
When I was fourteen, I decided that I wanted to be a solicitor when I grew up. I remember the moment quite clearly. I was in music lesson with Mr Storey ( who turned out to be the teacher who had the most influence on my life in many other ways too). The thought just came to me. I wasn't even sure what being a solicitor involved but it was exciting and I have always loved to have a goal so that was that. I went home and told my parents and everyone seemed to approve. The die was cast.
Now that I had my goal it gave things a greater structure. I did arts and languages for my "O" levels including Latin ( for all those tags). This lead to a similar theme with "A" levels- English for language, History for independent thinking and research, French because I was good at it and I needed high grades!
From school to university where I studied law. This was the least satisfactory part of my grand plan. I didn't enjoy my course as much as I had hoped and found my fellow students to be generally silly and immature.This makes me sound dreadfully boring but actually I had a highly developed sense of responsibility so I never missed a lecture, cleaned the flat when it was my turn and never spent more money than I had. All these things meant that I missed out on what students usually did and I found the whole experience a bit odd.
The "Milk Round" came to town and firms of high profile lawyers all set about interviewing bunches of prospective articled clerks and creaming off the brightest or most interesting candidates. I had decided that the bright lights of London weren't calling to me. I already had a place at Law School there and felt that that was enough to get the measure of the place. At that time the second legal centre in the country was Leeds, sadly a little close to home for my liking but with my sights set high as usual I tried to shine in my interviews and came away with a couple of offers. One was from Booth and Co, a large firm by the standards of the day with rich cream and blue vellum notepaper which felt heavy and important. I accepted the offer and finished my degree.
Law School was much, much better. This was what I had thought it was all about. Finding solutions to problems, thinking round issues, being "commercial ". It was by far and away the most challenging of my academic achievements to date, not least because of the incredible volume of work that we had to get through but I knew that I was nearly there. Only two more years as an articled clerk to go.
It was 1989 when I rode in the lift up to the second floor of Sovereign House in my new electric blue suit with a fellow clerk callled Adrian who remains to this day a true and valued friend. It was the start of my career in the legal world.
Now that I had my goal it gave things a greater structure. I did arts and languages for my "O" levels including Latin ( for all those tags). This lead to a similar theme with "A" levels- English for language, History for independent thinking and research, French because I was good at it and I needed high grades!
From school to university where I studied law. This was the least satisfactory part of my grand plan. I didn't enjoy my course as much as I had hoped and found my fellow students to be generally silly and immature.This makes me sound dreadfully boring but actually I had a highly developed sense of responsibility so I never missed a lecture, cleaned the flat when it was my turn and never spent more money than I had. All these things meant that I missed out on what students usually did and I found the whole experience a bit odd.
The "Milk Round" came to town and firms of high profile lawyers all set about interviewing bunches of prospective articled clerks and creaming off the brightest or most interesting candidates. I had decided that the bright lights of London weren't calling to me. I already had a place at Law School there and felt that that was enough to get the measure of the place. At that time the second legal centre in the country was Leeds, sadly a little close to home for my liking but with my sights set high as usual I tried to shine in my interviews and came away with a couple of offers. One was from Booth and Co, a large firm by the standards of the day with rich cream and blue vellum notepaper which felt heavy and important. I accepted the offer and finished my degree.
Law School was much, much better. This was what I had thought it was all about. Finding solutions to problems, thinking round issues, being "commercial ". It was by far and away the most challenging of my academic achievements to date, not least because of the incredible volume of work that we had to get through but I knew that I was nearly there. Only two more years as an articled clerk to go.
It was 1989 when I rode in the lift up to the second floor of Sovereign House in my new electric blue suit with a fellow clerk callled Adrian who remains to this day a true and valued friend. It was the start of my career in the legal world.
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