Down under

I'm in Australia for the wedding of my good friends Kevin and Julie. In fact it's tomorrow. I am very excited for them and very nervous for me. Because I'm the MC you see. My main concern is that I'm a blow in.

The problem with living on the other side of the planet is that people who've known you for a long time don't get to know the new people in your life. Which is partly becasue when you call/email home and your sister/mum/ friend ask 'So what's the craic?' You don't tend to fill them in on the news of the important people over here because they don't know them and so have (rightly) got little interest.

And so when I say 'my good friends Kevin and Julie' people who live in NZ and reading this are thinking, "Ah yes Kevin and Julie- she thinks they're the shit alright. She loves those two people" and those who live elsewhere are thinking "Hmm names are vaguely famliar, had an idea she was going to a wedding at some stage"

And it's the same for their friends and family who have flown thousands of miles to witness their big day. They're all thinking "Lorraine who? Never heard of her. How come she gets to do speaches?"

Still it's a holiday and I'm hoping to dive on Saturday althought he weather has been a bit iffy.

Back online

Hello. I'm back.

Sorry but it's been eventful I tells yeh.

I got a new job plus all of the stuff in the previous post. I'm still not online at home but should be at work so will be more efficient with this thing- promise promise promise.

Recent occassions include

A hen weekend in Mahurangi - oh the laughs
A rugby night - oh the vomit
A mid winter work do - oh the shame, bruises, wrecked $400 boots and lost glasses

upcoming events include

A wedding in Australia - oh the sunshine
A trip home to Ireland for Xmas and my thirtieth birthday - Oh the cold

The three bs

This is why I haven't been writing in my blog

I broke up with Alex
I've had bronchitis
I got burgled. (and so have no internet access at my gaff- the feckers stole my flatties laptop)

All b's- cuurreeepy.

Hope everyone is well

I will be ablogging regularly soon

Sick again

In the last two months I have had seven days off work. This is almost unprecedented. I have had some kind of vomit bug, a 'viral cold' and now I have bronchitis.

Sounds more dramatic than it is I reckon.

Over it.

Anyway, the point is that daytime TV improves in direct proportion to the amount of time you spend watching it.

Suddenly The View is the daily equivelant of Time Magazine with it's rapier sharp discussion of the major issues of the day (not to mention their groundbreaking pieces covering toptics like how to wear shorts if you're boy/pear shaped or have chunky calves).

Suddenly thirty year old sitcoms on UK TV are making my sides hurt.

Suddenly Dr Phil seems worth watching.

Suddenly pork belly stir fry is being added to my recipe list (even though I am vegetarian).

Suddenly I am REALLY looking forward to being back at work.

Avoiding the inevitable

I've been slack about updating this but that's because I am avoiding something.

In that theme here is a story I heard last night.

You see I've mentioned a couple of times that NZ is cold at the moment and in fact in a cold country at a cold time of year I live in an especially cold house . Cold. Cold. Cold.

I have had this conversation with several people lately and last night a kiwi told me a story that I want to share with the world on the off chance that organisations like the UN, Amnesty International or The World Health Organisation will storm the country and enforce central heating.

You see this guy, who I will call Phil (because it's his name you see), was staying at a friend's house. And one morning he woke up. And he opened the fridge and he felt WARM AIR COME OUT.

Case closed.

Sky TV

Some time ago I received PANTS service from my Digital providor Sky TV> They really wound me up and I'm not sure that I got that message out to enough people. So I thought I'd post it here.

Hello,

I am writing to complain about the level of service I have recently received from your contact centre.

As a customer of almost four years, I have found your technical staff to be a total nightmare, however having been up to date on all payments, and generally ahead, I have never had to deal with your customer service staff before.

Last year I moved into a flatting situation and began to pay my Sky bill from a group account which we use for rent bills etc. On Thursday, 30 March, I paid the money intended for our Telecom bill to Sky. This was my mistake and I accept that. I called Sky immediately to advise that I needed the refund as we will otherwise have insufficient funds in the account to cover our fortnightly rent. The very friendly customer services person I spoke to advised that as it hadn't shown in the Sky account yet it could not be refunded until Monday, 3 April. She took my home and mobile phone numbers so that she could call me if there were any issues. I paid the money I owed to Telecom on this basis although that bill isn't due for weeks.

On Thursday, 6 April I called again as the refund still had not appeared in my account. The customer service person I spoke to advised the request had been sent to a team leader and that she would have the original representative call me back. She again confirmed my contact numbers. I asked if this meant that the money would be refunded. She iterated she would have someone call me but would not commit to that.

Having received no follow up, I called again today (7 April) and spoke to a third representative. Although I asked to speak to a team leader she didn't seem to want to allow that. Commendable - happy to take ownership (and as I was about to find out - it wasn't going to make a blind bit of difference anyway). She advised that Sky was never going to refund my money on Monday as promised as you have to wait five working days. I do wish you'd said. However five working days (or at least according to my understanding of a working week and not the working week of Sky satellites) would have meant that the money was available for refund on Wednesday, or Thursday at the latest, assuming that it's five working days from when the money shows in your account. So why, on Friday, I asked, was it still not in my account?

Apparently it will then take your Finance team three to seven days (where do you get these SLAs and is it possible your Finance team are simply having a laugh??) to refund it back into my account. So instead of Monday 3 April as originally promised we are now looking at April 19 before I can have my $116 back. The representative pointed out that it is not Sky's fault that I overpaid my account. I agree. I pointed out that it is, however, Sky's responsibility to their customers to manage their expectations and keep them accurately informed when they have an issue.

Then it got worse.

I asked again to speak to a team leader and with a succinct, "Cool" I was put on hold. From the outset the team leader was absolutely intent on being of absolutely no use. I did point this out to her. She didn't disagree. She advised that in fact it is SEVEN working days before you can authorise a refund. Presumably then, Finance sit on it for a further seven days and finally somewhere around mid June I can expect to see my money.

That's ace.

Nice work.

So after four years of Sky service, during which I estimate I have paid you in excess of $13,000 including installation ($600) and technical assistance each time I've moved ($70) and in return received a reasonably decent digital service (with some notable and well publicised gaps in this service) and one free pay per view movie as a thank you (lads, take it easy- I'm overwhelmed) I am now treated with contempt, rudeness and inconsistent service.

I look forward to your response to this situation.

Yours sincerely

Lorraine Breheny


About three weeks later- they sent me a CHEQUE.

Weekend

I'm in bed at eight o clock on a Sunday night. This is because I had a big Saturday night. But not as big as Alex's. The World Cup is on in Germany which means that the games are on at stupid o clock in NZ.

Alex told me several hundred times that there was no way that he was going to go out after the England game. He knew that someone would suggest it. He knew that he would be classed as a big jessie if he didn't go. But he wasn't going into town. No. Way.

So when I awoke/regained consciousness at seven this morning the telly was on, the house was empty and Alex was in the city with Kev and Alan and Alex Chimbo. He eventually got home at eight thirty. Not a bad effort for someone who was absolutely, categorically, one hundred and ten per cent NOT going out.

I'd take my hat off to him but I'm afraid he'll be sick in it if I do.

Cat skills

One of my cats, Pinot, has discovered that: to get into my room she has to lean up against my bedroom door and scrabble her heart out. To get out of my room she has to lie on her side, stick her paw under the gap and pull it towards her. This means the following:

• She no longer worries about trailing around after me like a puppy. She can come and find me when she needs me. My opposable thumb is no longer of any use to her.
• The heater in my room that costs me eight million dollars a month to run is useless. She will let the heat out as soon as I fall asleep/leave the room/fail to pay her sufficient amounts of attention.
• Changing clothes/ getting dressed takes on a whole new speed/agility/vigilance requirement when there is any one else in the house.

Hangovers

I am hungover. This is because I was roaringly drunk last night. That was not a good idea.

It was goodbye drinks for bloke at work. He got to work on time this morning. I didn't.

My friend Belinda said she knew we were in trouble when I said to her, "Should I just get a bottle this round?" Ironically I knew we were in trouble when she replied, "Yes. I'll get the next one."

I smoked cigarettes
I explained to senior management exactly what the issues were at work
I told one guy I barely know what a top bloke he is (for about half an hour)
I told about twenty people that I really dislike a particular guy in the office
I explained why I'm a rampant lefty to our general manager
I lost my make up bag
We made the cab go to drive thru McDonalds (I have never done this before in my life and have been vehemantly opposed to McDonalds since reading Fast Food Nation about four years ago).
I remember nothing about the final bar we went to other than my drink had a lychee in it and I have a feeling that I said something really subtle like, "it's lovely you can be so incredibly camp" to the owner.

Today we had our office Diversity Lunch. This is run by the Community Committee which I head up. I was supposed to make soda bread and potato scones. I went to the supermarket this morning and got normal bread instead. I had to 'say a few words' I kind off burbled a bit and then wandered off behind the telly. It was not good.

1982 Jaguar XJ6

The thing about driving a 1982 Jaguar XJ6 is that it's very tempting to spend every single penny you earn making it even more gorgeous.

Just before Alex gave it to me the back of the driver's seat collapsed. Dramatically. While he was driving up he motorway at Jag speed (which is not the statutory 100 KMPH). Eventually we got a new seat for it (it's like waiting for a new liver for your child - you're thankful for it when it comes but you feel guilty hoping for it too much because it means that someone elses' child had to die).

Eventually another XJ6 with navy leather seats carked it though and it was game on. And I got the new front seat and it was bee you tee full. And I wanted all of my seats to match it. So I asked the guy about the rest of the seats from the recently deceased and he named his price. It wasn't an exorbitant price but was in the middle of my intensive chiropratoring and so I only went to get them today.

But he didn't install them.

I didn't realise but the last time when he did, he was doing me a favour. So now I am driving my car around with seats in the back seat.

This is silly.

Procrastination

Having to write a speech is like having to study. I'll do ANYTHING to avoid it apparantly. On Tuesday I need to give an eight to ten minute, motivational speech without notes. It is now almost seven on Sunday evening and I have about six minutes written and none memorised. I'm not sure what I'm going to talk about for the final four minutes.

I am sure, however, that the bathroom is clean, the dishes are done, all of my laundry is complete, the floors are swept, the house is aired, my earrings are colour coded and the couches have been vacuumed. I have dinner arranged with friends for tomorrow night and am hoping to go to the pub tonight to support a friend play a gig. I have just come from a different pub where I supported different friends in a different gig. And now I'm writing this blog. I am also monitoring an online auction to buy cat bowls, cooking dinner and thinking about rearranging the bookcases.

Disclaimer

Some of my posts make generalisations about nations. This has caused a REACTION. I should clarify.

When I refer to Scottish immigrants who had to continue going South in NZ until they found somewhere they could be just as miserable...

I AM talking about: the kinds of Scottish immigrants who were fleeing persecution because their faith and / or temperament meant that they hated dancing, singing, drinking, shagging and having a good time.

I AM NOT talking about: every single Scottish person I have, in fact, ever met. Because they are the exact opposite to the above and in fact spend ALL of their time dancing, singing, drinking, shagging and having a good time.

I think that's why the other lot left.

Thank Crunchie

It's Friday It's Friday It's Friday.

I know that this probably says that it isn't on the time and date stamp for this blog because it's on American time or summit but it is Friday in NZ and it's about fricking time too. Oh the benefits of being ahead of the rest of the world!

This week has been super speedy and super long at the same time and I had a big weekend last weekend so it started off with a very tired Lorraine and I am GLAD GLAD GLAD that it's over.

I do have eight hours of work to get through before I can really relax but realistically- Friday is the day when you start to chill out. People are more relaxed at work, there are fewer meetings and you get all the niggly crap done so you can start Monday with a Whizz Bang.

Or something similar. Perhaps not weeping is a more achievable first step.

Migraine

A few months ago I started to get migraines. The ones that blur your vision and make you want to slap the face of the person speaking to you because they don't have a migraine and so are perfectly comfortable SHRIEKING at you about some shite that you couldn't give care less about anyway because you have a migraine. Life consuming. So I saw a doctor and she asked me to look to my left and look to my right and then pointed out that the range of movement in my neck was similar to the range of movement in a glacier. She referred me to a chiropractor.

He sent me for xrays and established that my spine is munted. I was hit by a car when I was only wee you see. It chucked me high in the air and I landed on my bum and it literally knocked my shoes off. I went to hospital at the time and the doctors gathered around and called me a miracle and shook their heads. My parents just shook.

But here I am, 20 years later and finally the miracle has worn off and as it turns out, ignoring the occssional twinge that feels like someone has snook up behind me and stuck something long but blunt between the vertebrae of my neck has been a mistake.

So I needed to see Dr Iain three times a week for four weeks. This was expensive and meant that my trip to the chiropractor became pretty much my only form of socialising for a while. I also had to suspend my gym membership because there was to be none of that - oh no.

The migraines have stopped, I have the neck range of a 40 year old as opposed to a 75 year old and I only see Dr Iain once a week. So I have been drinking like a fish, dancing like a shamen and doing gym classes that frankly I'm not designed for.

I feel like I've been beaten up and have concluded that I was healthier when I was having teeth jarring migraines.

Under pressure

I have just sent the link to this blog to lots of people and am now feeling the pressure to write something witty and erudite that simultaneously updates you on my entire life and illustrates my top ten political views.

This is an unrealistic expectation of myself though so I might just blurt out some shite.

I am about to give my tenth prepared speach in the Toastmasters programme. Anyone not aware, this is an international public speaking programme and there are literally thousands of clubs around the world including ANZ Auckland which I am a founding member of and the Vice President Publicity. I've been a member for two years now and it's been ace. I joined to improve impromtu speaking but the key benefit has been the shit sandwich.

EVERY time you speak in TM you get evaluated by someone and the standard formula is to commend the speaker on something they've done well, recommend some area they could improve and finish with another commendation. A shit sandwich. If you haven't tried this, you have NO idea how effective it is. I have used it at work, on friends, on shop assistants, countless customer services representatives and even my cats on occassion. Very effective.

Great to see you again, shame you were a bit late because I have to dash, but we really need to catch up soon because I'm dying to hear all your news.

Thanks for the proposal, it really was very interesting to learn about the benefits of tropical fish reproduction and how that relates to the asset finance industry, our sponsorship calendar was finalised six months ago unfortunately but I'll be watching the industry papers to see how your fascinating Guppy experiment works out.

Thanks so much for feeding the cats, they're going to love you because you feed them so much more than they need, look how happy you've made them.

Do you see how it works? It's choice.

Except I recently had an experience where it didn't work. I was trying to provide feedback which was in essence "Stop stealing my stuff or I'll break your legs" But I wrapped it too thoroughly in bread and she didn't get it. She just kept stealing my stuff.

Did I mention that I have a new flatmate?

Cold Mountain

It turns out that I'm not quite finished on the cold topic as I arrived into work and the air conditioning was on the "It's 1200 degrees outside- we should over compensate" setting even though it is actually about ten degrees outside. So it's cold at work too.

A few years ago I read an article in the paper that I often refer to when this type of weather gets discussed.

For those of you who are not kiwis- some background. Otago University is one of the biggest, oldest and most prestigious unis in NZ. It is situated in Dunedin. They say that when the Scots got to NZ they arrived in Auckland and said, "Oh no. This is far too nice and warm, this will never do." So the moved on to Wellington and said, "Well the wind would remove your eyelids and it's a bit colder, but no, we're not quite there yet." So they moved on to Dunedin and said, "Ah yes, this is just right. Somewhere we can be just as miserable." The end.

And yet they still refuse to have central heating.

A study showed that the temperature in the average student accomodation is two degrees colder than the temperature reccommended by the World Health Organisation as the minimum for healthy living. One student profiled was staying in a flat so badly insulated and draughty that on a standard winter's evening the scientists showed that she would have been warmer sleeping in her fridge than in her bedroom.

No central heating. None.

Very lovely house

I am sitting in my house - which is a very lovely house - in NZ. It has hard wood floors, two living areas, three fireplaces (one in my bedroom), big sash windows, a big bathroom and kitchen, funky paintwork and a huge garden.

And it is the coldest place in the known world.

NZ is a semi tropical country. It gets warm in Summer. Unlike Ireland, it actually gets a summer. Everyone knows this. Everyone talks about this. The nation celebrates this by throwing themselves with alacrity into pretty much every outdoor sport know to man. And then beating every other nation who has ever played this sport.

Then winter starts. And you mention that it's Winter. Those Kiwis who have done their OE jostle your elbow and say, "Oh yes but it's nothing like London/Dublin/ Fill In At Random. You should be used to it. This is nothing. Balmy even." Those who haven't kind of look into the middle distance and act as if you've just mentioned your terrible case of intestinal worms or that time you were stranded on a dessert island and were forced to eat a small but brilliant child to survive. And then they return to their draughty villas, with rattling windows, gaps under doors the cat can squeeze through and UNDER NO CICUMSTANCES ANY CENTRAL HEATING.

So I have the fire blazing and it heats five centemetres in front of itself and the rest goes out into the hall, out the window or through the doorless doorway into the second living area. And I am sitting three metres away because it really is a lovely roomy house freezing my arse off despite two jumpers and some ugg boots.

I have a glass of red wine that is colder than the white wine my flatmate just took form the fridge and when we went outside to measure the driveway to see if the firewood delivery truck will fit in on Saturday, it was warmer outside!

Flattie

We have a new flatmate. Claire who lived with me while Kerry went home to Ireland has moved back in.

So we are now in an all girls flat. Comprising of the following:

Kerry: 29, Irish. I've known her since I was four and we were in low babies together. She likes chocolate, walks on the beach and romantic comedies. She dislikes mushrooms, all other vegetables that are remotely interesting, Drew Barrymore's voice, meat and non-crisp based foods.

Claire: 29, English. I've known her for a year when she responded to an ad for a flatmate. She likes posing as a children's entertainer in photos, the drop the debt campaign and baby Jesus. She dislikes ginger in sweet things, Rowan Atkinson, Bill Oddie, Frank Spencer and people who judge.

***** MY FLATTIES DICTATED THIS BIT******

Lorraine: 29, Irish. I like cleaning obsessively, cats (obviously), cooking, literature, inviting everyone I know to my house for dinner, earrings, bling and gold handbags. I dislike people who steal my mushrooms, cruelty to animals, cigarette butts in the toilet and rhubarb

Sick and homesick

I've been sick. Proper sick with vomiting and migrane and not being able to sit up to drink water. Crap sick.

If there is ANYTHING in the world guaranteed to make you miss your mammy, it's being sick. Whenever I was sick, right up until moving out of home, my mum would bring me a bed tray with scrambled eggs on toast, orange juice, tea, water and two panadol.

Never mind that I couldn't have held down scrambled eggs with buttery toast and a cup of tea, never mind that when I tried to take panadol they came right back up again, never mind that I'm now allergic to orange juice, never mind that I'm almost thirty, I wanted that tray of food in my single bed in Dublin brought by my mammy- and that's all there is to it.

Stop it

On Monday night I had a dream. Other people's dreams are boring says my friend Carol so I will keep it brief. Basically, there was an earthquake and as a result a tsunami hit New Zealand.

This morning at 6.50 my Mum rang me from Spain where she lives to make sure I was ok as there had been an earthquake in Tonga and they thought a tsunami might hit NZ.

I've told a few people this story this morning and they all have the same reaction. An indignant: "Can you stop that!!??!!"

Well...no. I can't