Old Dogs. New Tricks

Having worked for a company for 32 years I was made redundant in 2009. Hurt and angry at the time I proved they failed to fairly apply company selection procedures during the process and won damages from them. At the time I was confident about the future. We had good insurance cover to protect us financially and I had many years of experience working for one of the UK's most respected companies in an area which was both high pressured and had many transferable applications for the skills I used. Things were getting tough in the job market but I was convinced I would be back in a job in a fairly short time. I had bags of experience, bags of drive and lots of technical skills. I wanted to work. I wasn't one of those workshy wasters who would live off benefits. The next few months carefully removed all of my conceits. Not only didn't I get a job, I didn't get any interviews either despite applying for hundreds of jobs. 

The introduction to benefits through jobseekers allowance and the joys of JobCentre plus and its institutional bureaucracy, while giving me the occasional chance to post a rant or make fun of the ludicrous side of the situation, soon took its toll of my good humour and tolerance. The lack of any improvement in my situation and the absence of any hint of potential jobs soon began to erode my self-confidence. The absence of interviews or indeed responses to applications across that winter though made me even more determined. Surely something would come my way?

For the last few years of my employment I had volunteered in the children's hearing system and my employer had been given an award for their support of my participation. I found this role really rewarding and realised that ideally I wanted to take my career away from big business towards this direction but unfortunately, I also realised that financially I couldn't afford to do this because of the commitments of mortgage and modern life. Now, with a redundancy package and solid insurance protection behind me, I wanted to make that move so much of my efforts went in that direction.. Despite my best efforts this continued to bear no fruit so I was forced to combine job applications back into my previous employment arena. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of applications elicited no response, not even the acknowledgement that they had been received. Those who did respond listed lack of formal qualifications, failure to meet specific criteria and worryingly, lack of recent employment history. This final comment more than any other caused me some real despair and certainly many sleepless nights. Despite that, I rewrote and rewrote my CV numerous times, tailored each application to the specifics of the job advert and continued hammering home application after application, sometimes eight or 10 a day, week after week, month after month.

When I started applying for jobs I looked for salaries around the earnings I'd been making. By the end of the year I'd reduced my expectations by 20%. As time went on and more and more applications disappeared into the void those expectations reduced and reduced 25%, 30%, 40% and finally 50% but still there was no sign of any takers.

 

Finally, a week ago I had an interview. This, in the area of social services that I so desperately wanted to get into, was for part-time work, but by this time all insurance cover had ended and I have never been entitled to any financial benefits beyond 26 weeks of unemployment benefit long since ended. The interview seemed to go well but as is the way with these things, you can never tell.

Last night, I got a phone call from my interviewer offering me a job. Not just the part-time job had applied for, but a full-time job in recognition that I have the kind of potential they are looking for. I was stunned, in fact I still am. Finally, someone other than family and friends, believes in me. Two bloody years of Purgatory but finally somebody believes in me.

At last. 

Once all the checks have been done to allow me to work with vulnerable groups and once my references have been received I will be back in the land of the working and finally my working life will be moving in the direction and  in the kind of area I want. I will be working with people suffering from autistic spectrum disorders.

Time for this old dog to learn some new tricks!

See you later.

Listening to.

The Sunday Post.

Wanting to go,

all the leaves want to go

though they have achieved

their kingly robes.

Weary of colours,
they think of black earth,
they think of
white snow.

 Stealthily, delicately

as a safe breaker
they unlock themselves
from branches.

And from their Royal Towers
they sift silently down
to become part of
the proletariat of mud.

Norman MacCaig.
September 1982

photo: Alet Les Baines, Languedoc, France by Alistair.

The Sunday Post.

Leisure

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

by William Henry Davies

The Sunday post

See these hands folded now,
Hands that wrought for so many,
Tended and tidied a family,
Soothed them and calmed them,
Fed, clothed and reared them
Almost on nothing.

See these hands resting
That in the old hard days
Picked blackberries for pennies
And gathered dry sticks in bundles,
In dim March days I scarcely remember
When beech woods were a mystery
And fox cubs played among daffodils.

See these hands resting,
That raked hay in the fields
Of a summer coloured with butterflies,
That brought tea and sandwiches
To tired men at harvest,
And scattered wheat and Argentinian maize
To hungry hens.

See these hands, hands never still,
Hands they have folded now,
Hands that are resting,
That will never be active again,
Long though I kneel for their blessing.

Frank Mansell.

Say Hello, Wave Goodbye.

I wonder what she was thinking?

It's nice when visitors come to stay. Sometimes in fact, it's brilliant!

Passports please!

We recently had our Swiss niece Julia come to stay. While we were on holiday in Switzerland during the summer we visited the lovely G’s cousins and while there 12-year-old Julia had asked if she could come to stay with us in her October holidays. We said it would be fine as long as her parents were happy and they replied that they would be quite relaxed about it as long as Julia realised that for the first time she would be travelling completely on her own, which is no small thing when taking an international flight from a major airport. Her parents were confident that arrangements could be made to ensure that Julia could be escorted and kept watch over during the journey to make sure that she was okay, if we could make sure that she was met off the plane in Edinburgh.

Unusual sheds, Lindisfarne.

Over the following weeks flights were investigated and arrangements made to make sure everyone was happy and, after what seemed like no time at all, the time arrived for Julia's visit. The lovely G and I had just returned from holiday in France the day before and luckily the forecast weather for the week of Julia stay looked promising for the most part. Numerous texts flew back and forwards between us and Switzerland making sure that we knew of Julia's progress with her parents to the airport, on to the departure gates, then onto the flight and that the flight had departed on time. We arrived at the airport in good time and make sure that the lovely G was in place to meet her with all the proper required documentation to ensure that the airline would relinquish their charge into her hands. This done, Julia was free to enjoy her holiday with us.

What goes up must come down and get wet feet

Julia had been to the house before, on holiday with her parents and her older brother couple of years ago and had loved being in a place so different from her home. That holiday introduced Julia to the nearby beaches, coves and coastline of East Lothian, something that was entirely new to a wee girl from a completely landlocked European country. Julia had probably never seen the sea before, only beautiful Swiss lakes. She was amazed to look out to sea and not see land on the far shore, in fact she was amazed not to see a shore at all. Much of the hot summer fortnight spent with us back then was spent on beaches and in particular on rocky shorelines investigating rock pools at low tide or watching breakers crash down onto the shore in front of them. These things, ordinary to us, completely fascinated Julia and she soon amassed a collection of shell's and stones as well was the odd empty crab shell or claw which were carefully packed to be taken home as treasured possessions.

Treasure

Two years later Julia was just as excited at the prospect of spending time by the sea. As young girls do, she had prepared an itinerary for her holiday which covered almost all the available time with things she hoped to do. Many of those meant being by the water – not necessarily the best place to be in Scotland in October. Luckily for Julia (and for us) the forecast good weather came as scheduled and even managed to crank up the temperature a notch or two above expectations. This gave us the opportunity to spend lots of time with Julia outside doing the things she hoped to do, as well as gave us the chance to do things she hadn't thought of and show her places she hadn't been before. There was plenty of time to indulge her fascination with rock pools, investigating seaweed draped corners and carefully turning over stones to investigate the wildlife hiding underneath. Julia and I spent hours on the nearby coast scrambling across rocky shorelines in the hunt for the perfect pool as we collected and examined shrimps, hermit crabs, starfish and all the other creatures that can be found on the local coastline. As I trundled across seaweed draped rocks, slipping and sliding at almost every step, she skipped like an elf sure-footedly across wet rocks and water filled channels, fearless and unaware in her excitement. More than once I'd to call her back closer to me so that I felt more in control, or to remind her of how quickly incoming tides can come in and the dangers of being left stranded on rocks, especially when accompanied only by an overweight middle-aged man, no matter how proud that same man may be of his junior Lifesavers badge earned 40 years ago in a lovely, heated indoor swimming pool.

......... and wildlife

                                                                               

Julia's gone back home now. A week goes very quickly.. If I was a curmudgeon I could mutter on about how nice it is now to be able to get into the bathroom when I want, to have a shower without checking where our guest is, or to be able to walk around the house without switching off lights as I go, but I won't because those things are unimportant. I miss her smiles and the dozen grateful hugs I received across each day of her holiday. I miss her frantic energy and her enthusiasm. But - I don't miss the responsibilty of being a parent - no matter how temporary it's been.

To busy to pose for photo's

Sweetheart! Should we take her to the doctor??

It's good to have visitors. Sometimes in fact, it's brilliant!

Thanks Julia.

see you later.

Listening to

The Sunday Post

PRAISE OF A DOG

 She was a small dog, neat and fluid –

even her conversation was tiny:
she greeted you with a bow, never a bow-wow.

Her sons stood monumentally over her

but did what she told them. Each grew grizzled
till it seemed he was his own mother's grandfather.

Once, gathering sheep on a showery day,

I remarked how dry she was. Pollochan said, ‘Ah,
it would take a very accurate drop to hit Lassie.’

She sailed in the dingy like a proper sea dog.

Where’s a burn? – She's first on the other side.
She flowed through fences like a piece of black wind

But suddenly she was old and sick and crippled....

I grieved for Pollochan when he took her a stroll
and put his gun to the back of her head.

Norman MacCaig

January 1974

Gentlemen Take Polaroids?

Early Morn, Villa 'Les Rosiers', Aude, Languedoc.

{Post title is a vague reference to a track by 'Japan' in case you're trying to make a connection.}


Well, that's the final holiday of the year over and the sad return to cold, damp, rainy Scotland happened on Sunday afternoon. We had a great week of good weather in the Languedoc, with temperatures in the high twenties and low thirties each day apart from the last couple before we flew back. In some ways this actually helped us prepare for coming back to the weather that we heard was covering Scotland in rain and windy conditions.

It was great to be back in the Languedoc again. It's an area we've been to a couple of times now and always felt completely at home there, so much so that we have looked at buying a house in the area (should the finances ever allow) at sometime in the future. For now though we have to make do with renting a holiday home, which this time was in the village of Trauss, just to the north of Carcassonne. The house is owned by a British couple, one of two gites attached to their own house, which they bought when they moved to live in France permanently four years ago. {lucky people}

The house was lovely. A typically French affair with shuttered windows, open beams and exposed stone walls, well kitted out with all mod cons and comfortable furniture. Having a nice pool was a definite bonus, despite advice that it would probably be too cold to go swimming as the temperatures now were a lot cooler than the summer temperatures of a few weeks ago. Of course with temperatures at 30 degrees, hotter than the normal Scottish summer, that advice was largely ignored and I was often grateful to have a cooling dip after a long day out on a hot day, especially if that day had involved a long drive or hoof up a mountain to explore a castle or two.

Lastours

Distant Queribus

We spent our time returning to old haunts, exploring new ones and finding those wonderful, unexpectedly amazing restaurants you sometimes find in the farthest corner of the smallest village. We had some amazing meals at bargain prices and certainly didn't lose any weight while we were there, despite doing plenty of walking. We walked through picturesque villages, drove mountain roads covered in fallen chestnuts whose spiny shells carpeted the road as far as you could see. We were amazed by the incredible colours of autumn that were beginning to come to the fore despite the heat and were mesmerised throughout one unforgettable drive through the montaigne noir which lay close behind the village we were living in.

Minerve

Alet les Bains

We spent time in the World Heritage site of Carcassonne old city with its incredible mediaeval walls and soaring towers, glad that the crush of summer tourists had gone leaving space for everyone and time to take photographs undisturbed. We spent the final night of our holiday in a hotel in the old city and I had the amazing buzz of being able to drive through the narrowest streets to get to our hotel at six p.m. when the curfew on cars was lifted, something I've repeated again in the early hours of Sunday morning when we left to go to the airport. An absolutely unforgettable experience.

One of the entrances to La Citie, Carcassonne.

There's always a cat!

or two!

Although the week didn't seem to go too quickly it was over far too soon and it did rekindle our love affair with the area and make us determined to come back more regularly in the future, to explore the area even more thoroughly and perhaps to look further afield at some of the other areas around the Languedoc too.

Cloudy day, Rennes le Chateau 

La Tour Magdala

See you later.

Listening to.