Another mixed week…

Sunday was great. It really was. We were at church after all, the best place to be, amongst a congregation of good friends, new friends, old friends and newbies who wouldn’t know us all from Adam. Adam by the way usually sits at the front on the left hand side. The preaching was great, encouraging and for me spot on. Daniel the old testament chap and subject of the day was a man who the bible records lived out his faith, trusted God in the midst of religious persecution, and captive in culture foreign to him (excuse the pun) and oppressed.

Monday was a chance for me to shine, and show would-be-employers how I could adapt to working in a new environment, a coffee shop where the products were either fairly traded or organic. A barista I might never be, but after some helpful guidance was soon pouring lattes, cuppacino’s and milkshakes like the rest of them. It was great fun, busy and I thoroughly enjoyed the pace, the buzz and different-ness-ness (?)  of it all. Soon, I believed I would have a full-time job I could apply myself too, maybe management role would come quickly if I proved myself, once again be able to pay the mortgage… I was of course still on trial myself, at the mercy of the owner and other staff who, I guess would be reporting back… In the evening I met with others currently between jobs for our fortnightly support group, which is always such an encouragement. I hoped for good news to share soon.

Tuesday I worked elsewhere, and Wednesday was back amongst the coffee beans, and serving the customers with enthusiasm. This was great, maybe, just maybe, this was where I was meant to be…. Thursday morning I got the news I would not be offered the job after all, and after being momentarily stunned, pressed the employer for the reason. A reason was given, but it was all very vague. It is an employers market remember..

In the afternoon I went to a job fair with a friend, which helped raise hope in me once again. Later on, the graveyard shift in the department store beckoned. Whoppee doo. Another far from perfect end to a far from perfect day.

Friday was my day of rest, a chance to chill, and to do some charity shop shopping. In the evening Derren Brown was on tele lifting the lid on his lottery number prediction. Or was he? I was not convinced.

Saturday at 5.15 I would be up, awake and preparing to leave the house for another car boot sale. I was convinced the sun would shine… It did and we finshed the day in profit by £41.00.

Daniel is still in my mind. He’s still an inspiration and I have still much to learn. Faith, man, faith…

Write on…

Last Sunday morning, after our church service, a well wisher asked me whether I was writing down my experiences or keeping a journal. I was pleased to confirm that this was the case and pointed out the url www.workhope.wordpress.com for this.

On Tuesday evening I started the rather large task of copying my jottings and blog postings into one document, ready for further editing, an essential part of the book publication process. Not that I have a book deal of course. But it’s an idea worth pursuing.

My last book deal revolved around the few Maeve Binchy novels I sold at a Car Boot Sale and when I treated myself to Chart Throb by Ben Elton, courtesy of The Local Heart Foundation Charity Shop.

Shake your (Car) Booty

I knew I’d need to get up early Saturday morning, if I was gong to get to the Boot Sale on time.

The last time Mark and I had attended, we’d arrived at 6.30 am and were one of the last cars allowed in. This time we’d better be early.

Why do we put ourselves through this pain? The prospect of making money of course. It would be embarrassing to be turned around at the gate and then have the hassle of having to unload and then re-store all our boxes of pre-loved goodies once again.

5.15am was my appointed time to wake and get sorted if I was to pick up my Selling partner up at 5.45am. As it happened, I chose to sleep downstairs in the lounge on our sofa, so as not to wake the household when my alarm burst into life. Thankfully the car was loaded Friday night, I simply just had to wake up, feed myself and get active. I got to Marks at 5.55 or thereabouts and to the Boot Sale just after 6. Success.

Our neighbours for the day were a grumpy woman, (I’ll call her Brenda), who’d pretty much barged her way into the sale in her monstrously huge 4×4, and quite evidently didn’t want to be there, and to our left, was Adam and a rather effusive, yet friendly chatter box of a chap. Like me, it turned out, he was in need of extra cash. In addition to selling he took great pleasure in pointing out a number of well endowed women as they came into view. Mark and I, cringed round the side of our car.

When not distracted by shapely women, Adam would be engaging customers with great deals, or offer us his advice and tell jokes. Better this, we decided than Ms Grumpy, who it appeared, didn’t ‘do mornings’ as such, or ‘do friendly banter’. We left her alone.

By 10am we’d had our lunch, (Marks homemade cheese and pickle sandwiches were most welcome). For us the sale had started well, selling toys, books, a couple of cds and a food mixer which eventually made way for a load of cuddly toys.  If there was one disappointment when it came to leaving the site, it was that the bright blue potty had failed to sell.

Brenda disappeared early in her armoured vehicle, much to the anger of the events chief Steward, and Adam, (we think) left with with pockets bulging with a wad of notes, and maybe a phone number or two. Mark and I left confident we were sixty to seventy pounds better off.

Once home, about 1pm, with my eldest son to assist, I counted our days takings and decided it had not actually been our best day. A profit of forty five pounds was rather disappointing but once again I was grateful to Mark for his company and help.

Truth be told, we’d be potty not to try again another day.

Our Family At The Museum

I will only be working two days this week, but I can’t be bothered to sign on again – it really is too much hassle.  Instead I’ll try make the most of the time available, by job hunting and spending time with Mrs. W and our boys… Half-term holiday has arrived.

One planned outing involves the cinema, timed perfectly to coincide with half term with zillions of children wanting quite rightly some care and attention from their parents. Maybe they’ll take time to play with their toys, zap or punch baddies on computer games or watch Pink Panther or Garfield on Boomerang. What they will not be keen to do, will be the chores, any homework or food or charity shopping something us grown ups have to do. No 1 on our boys hit list over the next few days is the film ‘Night At the Museum 2’ – even though the reviews of this aren’t particularly glowing. It’s been panned as neither fun nor exciting, but is stuffed with the expected special FX. If I can convince everyone to wait 6 months or so,  we’ll see it on dvd or put it on the Christmas list.

Saturday however, I did a car boot sale and promised that the profits would help pay for cinema tickets, for us all. I better keep my part of the bargain.

To make the week a go with a blast, I propose we do our very own Museum experience… Surely I can, after seeking appropriate permissions, organise a family outing to the National History Museum and Science Museum – (for free of course) and have a glorified sleepover – with our sleeping bags, torches, toothbrushes, video cameras and vivid imaginations. When morning comes we will contact the papers with our stories…

That should do it…