And there’s more…

Well it’s proving a good week for us. Wendy had her interview today, passed with flying colours, and is back to being a (part-time) wages slave as of next week!

When she was last with the C.A.B. she worked on a project called G.P. Outreach as a sort of independent advisor. She would go to doctors surgeries and deal with people the doctor referred, such as people with debts, housing issues, benefits problems etc. The idea was that she could then deal with people who were too loony or simple to just attend the regular bureau. Then, in dealing with the some of the causes of stress and misery in their lives it would let the doctor offer a more holistic package whilst freeing the doctor up to just deal with the medical issues.

I only mention that to explain that in her last role Wendy had to take on a whole lot of issues then deal with most of them herself as the clients weren’t capable, and keep on dealing with every little issue that arose in their lives. She was constantly having ongoing clients calling her and then she was worrying over every thing in their sad lives.

Although on the one hand rewarding, it was emotionally draining and too much of a burden for her.

Which brings us to her present job; trainee debt specialist.

In this capacity she is specialising in her favourite subject (debt), she is part of a team, and because of the massive (and inevitably increasing) workload in that field that the bureau faces, it is her boss’s policy to deal with all of the clients problems in one, or at the most two interviews. Then case closed. These are going to be compos mentis clients so there is no need to hand-hold and take over their cases. It’s sort everything out, tell them what to do, or arrange it, then let them get on with it.

Also it is one very short bus ride away from where we live, her previous job entailed two buses, or a bus and a train, or if I happened to be off, an hour’s drive in rush hour traffic (to cover about seven miles!)

So, old job bad in all sorts of ways, new job better in just as many, and having the added bonus of letting Wendy specialise in her favourite subject.

Also she’s lost the best part of another stone since we returned from Scotland, so everything is peachy in the world of the Wendster.

I have made a decision about my martial arts. I went to a Karate class the other day to try it out. It was weird, but I expect it was good if you stuck at it. The only reason I went is, as I’ve mentioned previously, Taekwondo more or less ignores the fact you have hands. They are just handy (as it were) counterbalances for when you are kicking. This is fine in a competition where your opponent won’t be trying to punch you, not so great in a street fight.

So anyway, I went. It was weird, but I could see the point. Then they tried to show me how they do their kicks. Oh, no indeed. So gay!

I was all of a tizzy when I got home. Trying to learn two styles, with opposite techniques, would be a nightmare. It made me think longingly of Wing Chun Kung Fu. That was all about punching, blocking and all that is to do with using your hands to knock the crap out of someone. With hardly any emphasis on kicks. TKD and Wing Chun would be the ultimate combination. The only reason I stopped going was because it was seven pounds a lesson which, on top of  Taekwondo, would have meant that  when you had paid for the gradings, the insurance, the uniforms etc, spending over a thousand pounds a year on martial arts. We were dirt poor so I had to quit.

Then I passed my test.

And now Wendy has a job.

Can you see where I am going with this?

I’ve decided not to bother learning Karate. I’m going to wait until I have a driving job and know what hours I am doing then go back to the Kung Fu. Assuming the swine flu doesn’t kill me, I could be an all-round lethal martial artist in five years. Which would make me forty eight years old, and at my martial prime. Weird.

Still, I don’t drink, smoke, or do any other drugs (apart from caffeine) so I have to  have something in life I enjoy. Also if I do end up sat on my arse for twelve of thirteen hours a day as a driver I really will need the exercise.

Talking of which, my examiner yesterday (bezzy mate Glen) was saying he goes down the gym for two hours a night. I was suitably horrified at the prospect, so he explained he used to be thirty eight stone! He’s down to seventeen, and carries it well, but two of those he has put on recently so it’s two hours at the gym every night before he really starts banging it on. My admiration was immense though. If you are thirty eight stone how can you motivate yourself to start dieting? I have been trying to get from ten stone twelve back down to ten and a half, ideally ten stone, and it is taking for ever.

I work like a Trojan every day and sweat buckets at every TKD lesson. How can you even start to consider starving for years at a stretch? Apparently he had to have nine kilo’s of excess skin surgically removed when he had lost it all.

Well, all’s well in Bucksterville.

Happy days.