Die on Your Own Time Please

When exactly did (some) people become so uncompassionate? It's long been the norm that one daren't take leave to recover from illness without fearing the wrath of the boss, leaving us with a workforce performing consistently below best, coughing and sneezing their germs around til even the usually most hale and hearty succumb; what about compassion that should be due all of us to deal with bereavement?

Standard Leave of Absence policies seem to indicate that one might have paid time off work for the funeral of a close relative (parents, children etc) with perhaps a day or two longer if one has the responsibility for making the funeral arrangements, but then it's expected that you chivvy yourself along back to work. No allowances made for wanting an extra hour or two to attend a wake and offer sympathies to other family members, share a moment remembering the good times.

And woe betide if it's the misfortune of a less 'close' relative to pass away (how dare they, what were they thinking). Uncles, Aunts, in-laws; hey, if it's not 'your' relative, don't even think about putting that LOA form in, never mind that these relations can be just as close.

Today's lifestyle - social mobility can mean that a friend, a neighbour, could be closer that some relatives, but again we're expected to be robots - take 30 seconds and then get back to the grind - work will save you. It's belittling the life of a Mother, a Father, a Son or Daughter, a Friend.

Try to ensure your loved ones die in as uncomplicated a fashion as possible, have the funeral at the weekend (assuming your not working then as well).

In a world where we're constantly striving to put meaning in our lives, in the eyes of some, life has ceased to have any meaning at all.

DEATH RIDES AN UNCARING HORSEIllustration: Sherwin Schwartzrock & Jonathan Koelsch

Wrinkled noses at Rasa

So this review is a bit late - ok, read very late, having gone out on Valentine's Day, but you know, sometimes life just gets in the way.

With high hopes we set off to Rasa on Newcastle's Quayside. Our usual fail-safe is Sabatini's but having been there twice pretty recently and as I'd not long since read the Secret Diner's glowing report, we thought a change of scenery in order.

We declined the 'special' menu, opting for their regular option, and to begin with things looked quite promising. The staff were attentive but unobtrusive and knowledgeable, providing extra information about the dishes and as I polished off my Konju Fry starter, I was feeling confident about the choice we'd made. Unfortunately it was all downhill from there. The service all but disappeared, they staff seeming to prefer standing around the corner chatting to paying attention to what was happening in the restaurant, whilst my main dish was very nice, my partner's was completely tasteless and although we wanted coffees, the staff took so long coming back to the table that we just asked for the bill and went for a drink in the Akenside instead. In fact, I can probably say the best thing about the whole experience was the Malabar Paratha bread. Far nicer than the Naan breads one usually receives with Indian food, but I didn't go out to just enjoy bread.

Do the restaurants reviewed by the Secret Diner know he's coming? Do they up their game during the visit? I absolutely cannot see any reason for the 5 stars awarded in his review. My view? I'd be struggling to give it 3 out of 5.
On a positive note, the pre-dinner drinks at the Slug, and the post-dinner drinks at the Akenside were just lovely.

What's the story, Soap & Glory...

One of the best things about Christmas 2013 (and there weren't many) was the £100 Boots gift card I received compliments of Boots themselves. Having spent the past 4 months in a state beyond stressed and tired, the old peepers were beginning to look less radiant jewels and more like they had matching luggage. I'd always seen the 'Soap & Glory' brand as a bit gimmicky and cheap, with their reasonable prices and twee slogans, but when looking for an eye cream that didn't cost as much as my monthly rent and something different (I've tried a lot, and a lot haven't worked) I thought, "What the hell, let's give it a whirl." (And it was 3 for 2 on all S & G in Boots) I found myself with with the 'Puffy Eye Attack - Turbo-boost Hydragel, which sounds a little like it should be applied to one's car, the 'You Won't Believe Your Eyes - Tied eye brightening serum' and the 'Make Yourself Youthful - Rejuvenating Facial Serum', all for less than 35 quid - bargain. Does it work? The Puffy Eye Attack is a potted wonder. Cooling, working instantly and a little goes a long way - I've even been able to ease up on the Touche Éclat, especially when followed with the You Won't Believe Your Eyes serum. This iridescent serum is applied via 3 small rollers and makes the whole eye area appear lighter and brighter. The Make Yourself Youthful Serum, well, I can't say I'm the world's biggest fan. There's nothing really wrong with it, I've not been using it exclusively so can't really say whether it's making a difference, but for this time of year, the stress our skin undergoes with the weather, central heating, chocolate and alcohol, I guess my skin is better than this time last year. The one thing that lets this product down is the smell. It smells faintly of chocolate orange, and much as I love a good Terry's Chocolate Orange, and I've eaten two this Christmas, I wouldn't want to cover my face in one.

Fielding throws a curve ball

So, Mark Darcy's dead - is he? Is Helen Fielding for real? All we (the Bridget adoring female population) have to go on is an extract published in The Sunday Times, where we find the heroine aging, widowed and dealing with the singles (toyboy)scene with two children in tow. Hardly full confirmation, and I'd hope the book might have a little twist, even a predictable one such as this: Mark Darcy was a humanitarian lawyer. Suppose he went to see a client abroad in some godforsaken hellhole and there was an incident. All presumed dead. Perhaps even remains have been repatriated and buried. But it's not him. He's a prisoner somewhere. Perhaps even when he escapes and comes home, he observes Bridget at a distance and can't bring himself to intrude on the life she's forging since his 'death' - after all, he is a little bit of a drip, perhaps it's all only revealed on the cusp of her marriage to someone else...

Pic: The Guardian

So not a one off for Esso

Since I mentioned on this blog and to anyone I came across about the practices of Esso appearing to register one amount at the petrol pump which 'magically' increases by the time one arrives at the kiosk to pay, several people have confirmed that this has also happened to them, to the point that they will no longer use Esso. As previously stated, a pump clicking an extra penny seems hardly newsworthy, but given the number of customers passing through every day, this sharp adds up. Unfortunately I can't see Esso doing anything about it unless the public push for it. Their prices seem obscenely inflated anyway, without factoring in an extra rip-off.

How Low Can Esso Go?

Thieving little b#@*!^ds. As if petrol wasn't expensive enough. Yesterday the petrol light came on and as I've done a fair bit of running around since then, I thought it best I pop a bit in the old tank. Asda has the best deal price-wise but also the longest queues so I resorted to an Esso station nearby. Very carefully I put in exactly £10 - EXACTLY £10, yet by the time I'd got to the kiosk to pay it'd clicked another penny. Complaints fell on deaf ears. It's only a penny. I know it's only a penny today, but if it's a penny every time I go there, a penny for every customer they have, that's a lot of pennies extra they're clicking.

original image: wikimedia

Entour -RAGE

What is it with people that seem unable to spend even 30 seconds apart. And I'm not talking about lovey-dovey couples here. Yesterday at the MetroCentre, I witnessed someone waiting for a lift. They were pushing a wheelchair. They had to wait for a second time because when the lift arrived, it was filled by a woman with a pushchair (fair enough) and several women that were with her. Now surely anyone with any sense would realise that the other women could have gone down the escalator (right next to the lift)and met their friend/relative at the bottom, thus freeing more space for those who actually need it. Indeed, the lady pushing the wheelchair had another companion with her that did just that. Are they afraid they'll get lost? Under some sort of contract that requires them to remain in such close proximity? Selfish, unthinking oiks? Mmmm, I know which one I'm going with.