The next chapter

I started this blog when I came back in May, really as a form of therapy to ease me back into the real world and into Scotland. And now, finally, I think I'm out the other side. I only realised this a few weeks ago: I wasn't hankering after what had been and instead was much more focused on what next, where I want to get involved and make a difference. I'm a whole lot clearer on that one now.

Edinburgh is shaping up nicely. John, Pippa and Fiona are looking after me in different ways and I'm meeting some good people. My Glasgow friends are helping me out too. And it is great to see my brother, Paula and Beinn more often. Duke of Edinburgh is proving challenging but fun - how do you keep a room of fifty 14 year olds occupied for an hour? I've found a great group who are interested in spiritual philosophy and meditation and I'm loving all of that, people with whom to talk about the meaning of life! And I love the size of the place, you can cycle everywhere in 20 minutes.

The only real fly in the ointment is work. Finding interesting roles is a challenge. I think this is partly down to the economic situation, partly lack of clarity on my part, and of course the fact there just aren't the same range of opportunities here. And I'm trying to make a bit of shift without a real network to connect me to the possibilities.

Add to this recent contact with my old boss who may have an opportunity for me and I'm feeling quite torn. Is it back to London for now? Exploring the options will help me decide. If it is, it won't be back to old life, I'm confident of that. But I'm not ready to slip into my pipe and slippers quite yet and I mustn't commit myself to something in that environment, I'll be going mad in 6 months. I need to get into a decent role again, I feel I'm stagnating and it is bloody boring. Not to mention the money situtation which is worse than awful.

Whatever decision, I'm there. I've been and seen and am out the other side and feel it is time for this blog to come to an end. Once I find an interesting topic on which to write, I'll start another. Time for the next chapter; thanks for tuning in.

FANTASTIC

I've been watching the youtube Obama video that Tamsin posted this morning. It is indeed inspirational. What's interesting though is the running commentary being posted under it every few seconds. Some of the racist comments are shocking and to me, really shows why this is still such big, big news. As a 'bleeding heart liberal', sometimes I forget all do not think the way we do.

Aside from any of that, no more George W Bush. Thank goodness.

I'm struck that we can see the crash of the financial system followed by this inspirational news, all within six weeks or so. Times are a changing and we can - we must - make a contribution in whatever way is possible for us.

Oh, and of course I did cry when it was announced at around 4am. Pretty predictable really!

Is anyone else excited?

I am. I know he's not perfect, but he's the best chance for some change.

Think I may have to stay up and watch the victory. In fact I might even cry when he wins and I'm not African-American, or even American.

What we need is a similar evangelical, principled figure to shake up the British establishment. Perhaps that too will happen as we go into this downturn. I do hope we all become more involved as opposed to more individualistic and/or apathetic. Today, that's what I feel is happening within me. On days where 'THE FEAR' is paralysing me I'm just as self-obsessed as ever. Still, baby steps forward.

THE FEAR

Rabbit in the headlights. That's how I feel.

6 months into rehab and I think I'm now out of the traveller's mindset. Feeling very back in the real world at the moment; anxious, unsure, have ideas, don't know how to execute them, wondering if I've made the right choice - what's more important to me, place or interesting work, worried about money/ economy, bit bored, miss my close friends - all resulting in CHRONIC procrastination and a huge desire to f*ck off again.

Feels just like before I left. Self-obsessed and unable to enjoy the moment. It's getting to the scary point, I am going to have to commit to something. Oh my God, I can feel my palpitations rising as I type. Do I have to face it? Really? Why am I so unable to nail my colours to a mast? All pop psychology welcome!

Bored

Yo has just commented I've not written for a little while. True. I was building up to another post about the economy, but it's just so doom and gloom I can't bear to tune in at the moment. I can't control it and it's too worrying for me to listen all the time, given this contract will be up in a month's time and the irons in the fire have all gone decidedly cool. (Just in time for ski season? Serendipity? Discuss.)

It's killing me to be in front of a computer screen the whole time. Office underemployment doesn't suit me.

Grumpy. Bored. I hate being bored, I hate it more than being sad or upset. It's SO DULL. It's just a sort of annoyed nothingness.

I have been doing some interesting things. But the excel spreadsheets are sucking the life blood out of me so I shall have to blog about those another time.

Isn't this image kinda cool? Those little hands are bits of me trying to escape.

Interesting times continue

I feel most unsettled today; I have the sense we could be on the edge of something truly momentous. A bit like those moments when you feel you're close to understanding a truth and seeing a change in your thinking - and yet the understanding and change is somehow still eluding you. Maybe that's just me.

Another amazing week with more accepted wisdom turned on its head. Firstly, Gordon Brown. Floundering leader a month ago, the new Churchill today. Yes, that was the comparison I heard on Radio 4 yesterday. Quite how this compares with thousands being killed I am not so sure but that's by the by.

Unprecedented government intervention and cross country cooperation on interest rates - and yet the panic didn't stop, although I'm sure it will pass in time. Just where did we find £400 billion pounds to unblock lending between the banks? That's an incredible sum of money.



And then, on a much smaller scale, Iceland and the impact their fate could have on the Scottish independence movement. As Brian Taylor says, Holyrood politicians may "have to slap themselves to stop muttering "Iceland" every time the First Minister mentions small nation independent status in future." A month or two ago, independence was most definitely in the air, it was coming through the back door. As I said last week, the argument for it now seems risible.

What will it all really mean? Will it blow over in a few years of pain and we'll go back to the way we've always been? Or will we change?

I like Paul Mason's Newsnight post, and this comment: The successful outcome to the next policy response will be a prolonged recession and a heavily socialized banking system. The unsuccessful outcome could be a depression. Either way take a long look at the high-debt economy...as I write students are arriving in London to run up an average £30k of debt that will hang around them for a decade, people are paying for drinks on credit cards. Taxi drivers are passing in cabs effectively the property of the Icelandic government. So look around, as Auden might have put it:


"As the clever hopes expire, Of a low dishonest decade"


And finally.... to lighten the mood, this post Tamsin has alerted me to, which has to be the funniest thing I have read in a very long time. I love this idea of Robert Peston transformed into a ball of energy and blue light, the essence of pure news. Absolutely inspired. God, we are clever bastards in this country, aren't we? Although, clearly not, in so many ways.

Interesting times

I've been meaning to blog about the last couple weeks for a while, but I've been too busy glued to my TV screen in an attempt to decipher it all. I find it incredible that we are seeing so much government intervention from the most capitalist country in the world.

Talking of incredible, the take-over of HBoS is another one. The Bank of Scotland is such an institution here. It was founded in 1695 by an Act of the pre-Union Scots Parliament and has been tied up with so much of Scotland's history, including the Darien trade adventures which saw us get in such a mess we had to sell up to England in 1707.


I do find the argument for Scottish independence rather risible in the wake of the past few weeks; we are all so interconnected, I don't see what it would bring economically, but then, it's not really an economic argument, is it?

I do find these times somehow exciting, and I know I can say this as I have nothing to lose. I really do hope it will bring a sea change in attitudes and we will rebalance some of our materialistic excesses. That is probably rather naive - I realise I am quite young as this will be the first big downturn I've lived through on the job market. It has happened before and we've gone back to being the same greedy humans as always!!

Whether I'll find these times quite so exciting when I don't get one of these jobs and have to go live with my Dad in Montrose is quite another story. Perhaps my original plans may have to be shelved for a while, and I'll need to head back to the economic power centre / vortex that is London. We'll see; all will be clearer in the next few weeks. It is so true that the only certainty in life is uncertainty and change. It's awesome.

Transitions

What an interesting day. Off I went to meet a colleague/ new friend for lunch, ostensibly to talk about marketing roles in Edinburgh. But just a little scratch beneath the surface and we end up talking about what we really want to do in life. She intends to set up a cake shop, so Sarah, looks like you'll have competition for your American bakery chain.

Add this to a chance meeting I had earlier in the week with Lynda, my old uni friend. Given she lives in Leipzig and I've not seen her for two years, this is quite a coincidence. Turns out she's decided to give up on the marketing and train as an English-language teacher. I talked her into giving me a German refresher tonight in preparation for my Visit Scotland interview on Monday; I was pleasantly surprised at just how much of the language I remember. I'm glad, I worked really hard at it for many years.

She was telling me (in German I may add, be impressed) that she never really realised she was just going through the motions with her marketing work until she started this course. How often she'd go to evening dos and put on the face and be bored, whilst tonight she actually wanted to go out for a beer with her students.

It does beg the question: does anyone really enjoy working in marketing? Really, really, truly love it? It struck me yesterday at the Marketing Society conference too. Some very slick presentations, but not much soul. And yet I found myself missing my role and my old world and the status it conferred. Crazy.

My meetings are also a wonderful reminder that we are naturally drawn to evidence that supports our thought patterns. I was reminded of this tonight in a coaching blog I read.

It's true. But still, I'm left with the question.

Musical memories

Was out tonight in one of these style bars full of overdressed men and women. At one point I thought I'd really overdone it, felt I was hallucinating, I was surrounded by men in tuxedos. I wasn't, it was just 28 drunk guys on a stag do. (Exactly. I know as I got talking to them.)

Loads of cheesy music in this bar, but one track in particular struck home - I remember Laurent Garnier closed on it at Space in Ibiza, 2002. I tried to tell those around me how awesome it was and what a fantastic experience I'd had there. They looked at me blankly.

At the moment, it still feels like yesterday. Admittedly, I'm pissed as I write this and I can't name it, couldn't even identify it if you played it to me now. But play it again and it would all be there. Music and memories. Such emotional power. It's probably been compounded by a wasted message I got from Iain, it's his end of summer party tonight and I wish I was there.

You don't realise how fleeting these moments are at the time; they are what make life feel truly alive. If I hear that track in the nursing home, I'll still remember. As with loads of others, evoking different times. Sometimes I feel I live in memories.

Relapse

Definite relapse today whilst sitting on my inactive arse trying to finish a dull presentation. I was languidly moving little coloured stars around in powerpoint and trying to follow some suggestions on how I could improve the structure and flow to sell the story more effectively. As you can imagine, my concentration didn't last long, and as if by magic, I ended up here, at Ski Independence.

This outfit are based in Edinburgh and they have North American jobs for this season! North America! When there isn't a sniff of an H2B in sight. It's a sign, I know it.

Oh God. Rang focused and committed sister for emergency chat on these very two character traits in which I am sorely lacking. Honestly, I think I have ants in my pants for my whole family. I don't know where I get it from, both my Mum and my Dad are very good at making decisions and sticking to them. Well, actually, that's perhaps not strictly true.

Sigh. Escapist fantasies of powder/ mountains/ green card/ me in another life aka Kristen Ulmer, this is her above. She does Zen-type ski breaks for a living these days. How totally cool. Should've just blown some money on a few days with her when I had the chance.

Some people

I met Arun Gandhi yesterday, grandson of Mahatma Gandhi. What an amazing man, what a wonderful speaker. He really did "glow in the dark", as Victor so perfectly put it. So much of his talk was personal, about the time he spent with his grandfather when he was a grotty teenager and what he learned in that time - and I left feeling nourished and convinced I could make a difference in some small way.

He spends his life campaigning for peace and non-violent activism and when searching for a link to read more about him, I was saddened to find that in January he was widely criticised for his comments on the Israel/ Palestine struggle and had to resign from his institute as a result. Illustrates the danger of intervening in such a violent and protracted struggle, even though I am sure he had the best of intentions.

The talk was part of the Festival of Spirituality and Peace which I've been doing a little volunteer work for, so uplifting to have all of these people from different faiths and cultures together discussing issues that truly matter and also just having fun. These guys from Zimbabwe, they're called Siyaya, did the most amazing song and dance in a stuffy Anglican church, it felt a little surreal but also oh so inspiring. Quite a change from the dour hymns! And not for the first time, I was left thinking it is no bloody wonder nobody goes to church in this country anymore.

(And it also left me thinking about an adventure to Africa... but as I'm supposed to be working on my commitment issues, that's going to have wait!)

Fantastic weekend.

Movements tell a hundred words

I'm going to be a Duke of Edinburgh Award Leader. This means I get my very own group of 14 year olds to encourage to achieve something in their teens - unlike mine, which were spent getting wasted on 'mixies', that unique form of Scottish cocktail, and smoking myself sick whilst hanging around in bus shelters hoping for a fumble with the local talent.

As part of the application, I needed to do an enhanced criminal record check. This requires submission of the past ten years of addresses. I found it most disconcerting to try and write these down. It took some doing!! In particular, I realise that although I think I want a settled existence, all the evidence is to the contrary. Clearly, I have ants in my pants.

Here's the list.

• Gosford Place, Edinburgh - 2 months
• Salt Lake City - 5 months
• Nepal - 2 months
• Wanaka, NZ - 2 months
• Batu Puteh, Borneo - 3 months
• 61 Canning Road, Highbury - 1 year 6 months
• 10B Tabley Road, Tufnell Park - 8 months
• 2 months crashing on floors and then with Garry & Cat post relationship collapse
• Somewhere in Queens Park - 6 months. Interestingly, I can't remember the address. Obviously blanked this one from the memory in spite of its significance.
• Somewhere in West Hampstead - 6 months.
• 139 Rathcoole Gardens, Hornsey - 1 year 6 months
• 224 Fernhead Road, Queens Park - 1 year 2 months
• 162 Kingston Road, Jericho, Oxford - c. 8 months
• Witney, Oxfordshire - 3 months in the sticks, a kind of 'trial run' that never got past the gates
• 4 Warwick Street, Oxford - 3 years

Scary.

A reminder

I'm just about to upload some pictures from the weekend and I came across this in my files. I took this image in the week before I left BT as a reminder never to go back. It was what I could see directly in front of me. Oh, the irony. In case you can't read it, the full text is as follows:

Heart?

He has it.

Do you?

Heart: We believe in what we do.

Live the values. Create the customer experience. Make our vision reality.

Worship at the corporate temple.

Actually I made that last sentence up. It wouldn't be out of place in all of that though. There's a comedy show at the Fringe called 'Who Writes This Crap?" I feel this could well be a must attend for me as a creator of such nonsense.

On another interesting BT note, Michelle rang me today to tell me they were getting sued as I hadn't paid a bill to Haymarket. We're due in court on Tuesday. How hilarious. And how truly incredible that nobody has paid it in all that time.

Here's another one. My daily view. Really, it's truly incredible that anyone can be inspired and creative and enthusiastic in this environment. To me, this goes against all common sense.

Tribal wives

Has anyone been watching Tribal Wives on BBC 2? Just watched the latest one, with Dionne, a 33 year old Londoner, heartbroken after her last relationship ended and wondering if she'd ever meet the right guy and have kids. What a wonderful woman, she was beautiful and smiled and laughed her whole way through her month with the Maasai. I felt she truly embraced the experience and I found her ability not to judge their ways quite inspiring. This Times reviewer disagrees. He's interpreted her acceptance of polygamy and female circumcision as being agreement with it which I don't think was the case. He also believes this whole series is set up to promote the idea that the tribes have a more real way of living than "us westernised wage drones".

Whether it is more "real" or not, what they do have is a sense of community. I'm not necessarily a believer that we should all go back to our hunter gatherer roots, but I do keep coming back to this thought of community over and over again as I readjust to what UK society expects of me in my mid thirties. i.e. to own a flat, to have reached a certain level in my career, have a husband or partner, be planning or having my first kid and be in a comfortable financial position. (It's not looking too great on any of these things, but I wouldn't say I was unsuccessful as a person.)

More than anything, this series has shown the love and support and joy these people experience in their daily lives. I know it is not all a bed of roses by any means, but this truly was my experience in Borneo too. Their community gets them through the hard work and inequality and hunger and whatever other trials they may face.

I helped out at this mad Rat Race at the weekend. Coerced a little by Pippa but it of course I loved it. Lots of (mostly) over-achieving types putting themselves through physical hell. (Most of whom too conformist and over-achieving to be truly sexy. It did have the potential to be one great perv fest, but sadly didn't quite deliver; lycra is never a good look.) It was great fun. I chatted to new people all day long whilst playing my small part in a bigger whole and didn't think about myself once. A little community just for one day. We need more of this feeling in our world.

Ah yes, this is real life

Back at work. (Never fear, not for long, just a month-long contract initially.) Day 3 and I'm remembering what real life is like. I have no time to write and waste time reading interesting things on the internet whilst I debate what to do with my life (which is probably already half-lived anyway, I may add, particularly with my bad Grant genes)

I actually have a focus, and it is BRILLIANT. I promise, I will never moan about work again. I'm never happier than when I have a project and I'm right in the middle of it. Yes! Identity! Status! And lovely new high heels from Dune to help me think into this status, I see them as a work necessity. They were in the sale and are on my Amex card which is just as well. Being a freelancer I am technically a supplier so heaven only knows when I'll actually get paid.

Being a freelancer also means you think much more about the value you're actually adding. Better go.

If you're happy and you know it....

I spent the afternoon with my wee nephew today. He washed my hair for me. (Paula was cutting it, so this wasn't as random as it sounds.) What a lovely feeling to have his little hands on my head, saying "is that nice Auntie Hannah?". En route to the park, we were singing "If you're happy and you know it....." {insert ending of his choice} which was our cue to perform.

So I've decided I could set up a little business. "Rent a prime-time kid". The market would be overworked and undersocialised single 30 and 40 somethings with too much time to think about themselves and their issues.

You cannot fail to be high on life after an afternoon with a small child. My only problem would be guaranteeing the quality of the product. Because come the walk home, he was most definitely on the tired and whiny side. That's where my value proposition could well collapse.

Summer in Scotland. Supposedly.

Just woken up to find more rain. It rained all yesterday too. According to the BBC, it'll be 15 degrees max, 11 degrees min today. That's about 59 fahrenheit for those of you over the pond.

Here's the view from the window.

I'm realising I have a whole bunch of clothes I'm never going to wear up here. On the plus side, I'll save a fortune in fake tan, and I can relax about bearing my extra winter flesh, it's never going to be too hot for jeans. Not to mention my wonderful skin, no danger of sun-baked wrinkles plus I've kicked the lingering fag habit. I guess that means I'll remain forever youthful, chilled in the refrigerator that is Great Britain.

Low income hair care

Hmmm. Just had a shower. (Time = 1.50pm.) I smell most unusual, mainly due to my Morrisons Hair Specifics Blonde Sparkle, just £1.29, although I think my Dove Conditioner from the Bargain Bin, just £1, has evened it out a little.

It's a kind of bad perfume smell, way too sweet, although it has to beat the Sunsilk Yoghurt & Coconut option.

I surprised myself with how hard I found it to make this choice in the supermarket. Of course, I realised the usual John Frieda Blonde was out of the question, but was sure I could at least go for L'Oreal Garnier. Then I realised even that was a full £2 more. I couldn't even have told you the price before, I never looked at it.

I don't know how anyone (Iain) can possibly still argue we make rational decisions about our purchases. The scenario was a prime example of my brand loyalty, although hard economics won the day in the end. Just.

On a related note, I stumbled upon another post about the disposable generation today. An American mother's view this time. (All her talk of Target made me feel quite Salt Lake-sick.) She's found this great site. www.kiva.org. It lends small amounts of money to entrepeneurs in developing countries. So if you save a little on the likes of John Frieda shampoo, you can send it to specific people. How real, I like it, although unfortunately the little I have saved has to be used to feed me. That's if I don't blow it on a latte to cheer myself up later on.

The disposable generation

Sam's post this morning on our wastefulness reminded me of a passage I read in Po Bronson's book, 'What Should I do with My Life'. Po is brilliant. Hugely thoughtful and reflective, he writes non-fiction social commentaries based on interviews and observations of the people he meets. Try 'Why Do I Love These People'as well. Here's his site. http://www.pobronson.com/ As an aside, he's from San Francisco. I'm developing a bit of a love affair with San Francisco and I've not even been there; I get the sense it's just full of smart creative people who aren't quite living the American dream as it's been sold. A little subversive, which would make sense for the city where hippies were born.

Anyway, the passage is as follows. This is my life in a nutshell. I am most definitely of the disposable generation and I am utterly bored of it and determined to change.

"In our generation's belief system, the world is a battle between the Boring and the Stimulating. We channel-surf through jobs and relationships, pushing the button at the first hint of slowing down. We've rejected the compromises of our parent's generation, who sought safety and security. Anyone who comes along and murmurs "stimulation is not everything" is quickly tuned out, because we don't want to hear it anymore."

Isn't that image of channel-surfing just completely spot-on?

In fact I think Po is my ideal man, and he's better looking than Alain de Botton too. Shame he's married. And living in San Francisco.

Compare and contrast? My dream date would be with these two, oh my goodness, the conversations. Alison J went to dinner with Alain and didn't even know who he was!! What sacrilege.

Edinburgh sunrise

There's so much I'd like to blog about at the moment. I feel I've begun the return to Scotland in earnest now I'm actually in Edinburgh, which is bringing up all sorts of thoughts and emotions. I'm excited about this next adventure and I'm loving getting to grips with what life is actually like here after over 10 years away. It is very different to London and the South East and since the arrival and establishment of the Scottish Parliament and our own political life, even more so. But tonight I am just way too tired for much intelligent thought. I'm working at The Royal Highland Show which in itself is a blog topic for another day. I've been doing 15 hour shifts; fifth and final day tomorrow. When I got the cab out to Ingliston this morning at 5am it was as clear as this, the orange warmth of the early morning sun reflecting off the Georgian sandstone in Newington as I chatted to the driver about growing up in Niddrie. For the non-Scots, Niddrie is very far removed from this view and indeed from all the usual 'Athens of the North' Edinburgh labels. My driver was telling me it was just grand before all the junkies moved in, people looked out for one another.

They've demolished most of it now, some of it is still waiting to go. Quite a contrast from the picture postcard above, isn't it?

Charity or private sector? No contest.

On my flight over the Atlantic, I had all these noble thoughts about being a good global citizen, working for a charity whose cause I really cared about, making a contribution to my community. You know.

Full of these noble thoughts, I applied for a role with the Duke of Edinburgh's Award. The closing date was three weeks ago and interviews were supposed to have taken place at the end of May. I just assumed they weren't interested in a corporate whore like me who had no experience of dealing with the 'operating authorities' (seriously, the terminology should have been enough to make me run a mile), but I decided to call and follow up.

Conversation roughly as follows. "Oh, I don't know what happened with that, I don't think it's been shortlisted yet. Ummm, sorry, I don't know. You'll need to speak to the manager when she's back tomorrow. Can you call back?"

I don't think it's been shortlisted yet? For goodness sake. How long does it take? And this from the woman who is managing the applications! It is her job to know where they are in the process! Yes, my patience would be too tested in a charity. Vicci keeps telling me to try and get job with Raleigh because I give a sh*t and could make it better. I couldn't. The inertia would send me into that critical, frustrated spiral I can be prone to in the wrong environment.

Rant over. I don't know what the answer to all of this could be. Performance-related pay would be a start, as would dealing with all the dead wood. But it would scare some people with higher security needs senseless and therefore be completely counterproductive. A more gentle carrot is needed. In searching for a suitable image, I came across The Rude Carrot Club. Take a look at the header image, how lovely.

Phew

For those of you following the job process: I didn't get it. A very close number 2 and they'd like to employ me in the future. I feel a sense of relief coupled with excitement. Now I can go and work in a bar during the Edinburgh Festival instead.

Hmm. Rehab isn't going well. Or perhaps it's going extremely well indeed, depending on your world view!

An All Too Brief Highland Fling

Reflecting this morning on how fleeting some moments in life can be. Jenny and Josh's wedding ceilidh was this weekend, they are over in Europe for a few weeks from Sydney and had a celebration for everyone who didn't make it to their big day last year. It was to be the highlight of my social calendar for the last 6 weeks, I love ceilidhs, I never get to go to them, and I knew I'd see a few people I'd not seen for years and years. We got stovies with oatcakes and cranachan for pudding. I even made a movie for Spencer's benefit, he tested me on all things Scottish every morning at the front desk and I feel the need to show him that sometimes I do live up to my heritage.

And now it's all over and it'll no doubt be another 5 years before I see most of these people again. I mean, it's not as if our lives are connected anymore. But still, there's something very poignant about such brief encounters with people who were such a large part of your distant past. Perhaps even more so as it was in the Hillside Village Hall. It's at least 10 years since I've been in there, it was the scene of all the 21sts if you were a Hillsider. (I was always on the fringe of the Hillside gang, living in Montrose, and therefore I went for the obligatory 18th in the back room of the Black Abbot instead.)

They had a wedding blessing the next day in the Hillside Church. I'm not sure the last time I sat through a whole Church of Scotland service. It was thought-provoking. I think I'm largely in agreement with many of the Bible's teachings but I have an issue with the language used and as a natural sceptic, with the need to have faith in an almighty God. But that's another discussion entirely. All of these beliefs and traditions and places are at my very core. Of course I've spent my whole life running away from them but they catch up with you in the end. Ultimately, you need to make some peace with what it means to have grown-up in a small town on the north-east coast of Scotland.

It's a London thing

London. What a place. It's 6 months since I was passing through en route to Utah and after the sleepsville of Salt Lake and the north-east coast of Scotland, it's quite an experience.

Admittedly, arriving at 7.30pm on a Friday night into King's Cross was probably not the best reintroduction to my former home. Busy, noisy, stressful, push, shove, ignore your fellow man - all in the seemingly intensely urgent quest to get where you need to be and finally get the week over with.

But also, what a place. Funny Women's Awards on Friday night at The Albany. Iain's friend Helen is a new role model. Part-time classical music producer, part-time Royal Albert Hall tour guide and full-time aspiring comedienne who spends every spare night gigging all around London, the comedy capital of the world. She's doing a show at the Fringe so if you get up to Edinburgh this year, check her out.

Sunday night at the filming of Brendon Burns Live with Rachel and her interesting flatmate Jude, who came here from Dublin in 1971, squatted in Peckham and it all went from there. I'd have loved to have been part of that scene, I'm not sure it's possible to do that anymore. Way too much money needed nowadays. Brendon won the Perrier Award at the Festival last year. It's good stuff, not all laugh-out-loud funny, but thought-provoking. Jude is a friend of Brendon's and told me all his stories were true. He turns his own pain over his breakdown and booze and drugs problem into such fabulous comedic material. One of my favourite lines: "What really gets me is these people who buy cocaine and fair trade products. Wake up, you wankers!" That probably needs a little context and a stronger delivery than I can manage in words. But oh so true. If he looked more closely in their fridges he'd find milk thistle extract to help detox your liver and Alpro soya milk because dairy is bad for your sinuses (along with the cocaine, of course). Credit allows debit = balance?

Sunday afternoon in Selfridges, gazing in sheer wonder at these Vertu mobile phones, a snip at around £10,000. Selfridges is really one enormous toy box for adults. It is truly a sensory delight. We tonged our hair with the best new irons on the market, discussed Laura Mercier products and grimaced at revolting Gucci handbags.

I'm typing this on a MacBook Air, which is so responsive it practically works through thoughtwaves, in a beautiful pad in Marylebone, just opposite Madonna's London residence. Alison is allowing me to live a little of her highlife. I have some of her cast-offs to try on shortly. Cast-off is a very loose term, we are talking Missoni dresses and Armani suits here which I can have on loan as part of my back-to-work project.

Oh consumption, consumption, consumption. Guzzle, guzzle, guzzle. I both love it and hate it all at the same time. It confuses me.

Can I remember how to do this?

I have a 3 hour interview tomorrow, consisting of a presentation which I've just finished, a written exercise I get on the day and then more questions, (probably) competency and results-based. The first interview was lots about me so I suspect they'll want the detail in this one.

I wonder if I can remember how to do this. I think my approach is about right, they're asking me about NPD. (New product development, just in case you're not fully versed in the world of marketing acronyms.) Whether my copywriting will be up to scratch, I'm not sure. And I've still to try and remember what on earth I achieved over all those years in the office.

Still, I get to wear some new clothes bought on my funky Amex Red card. I'll look good if nothing else.

I'm scared! This is definitely the first real rehabilitation hurdle. I'll let you know if it sends me rushing out to book the first plane ticket to NZ, just in time for the start of the ski season.

What goes around comes around

Look what's in the front window of Office.

I didn't quite manage to get the day-glo orange ones in the picture.

The colours are more fun this time round, but otherwise they are exactly the same. Oh, the 80s. There was even a shop assistant who looked just like Irene Carra. I swear. Big hair and leggings.

If there's anyone who wishes to indulge in teenage memory/ fantasy, here's the You Tube link to that scene from Flashdance.

(And if there's anyone wanting to relive Lee's sterling performance as Irene, here he is. Absolutely brilliant, even if I didn't get the slide down the stairs.)

My countries

Ok, so I'm supposed to be doing some research on networks and which ones are the best to connect social change organisations and people. It's rather interesting. Like Facebook but with a purpose.

Instead I've created a map of my countries. Look. I've only visited 8% of the world, and to colour in all of the US and Canada makes it appear like I've seen a fair amount of both these countries which is not the case, they are just so vast.

Sigh. Wistful and pointless longing for more overseas adventures as opposed to trips to the Montrose Job Centre.













create your own visited country map

The Benefits Centre

That should be the new name for the Job Centre. I arrived this morning to 'sign on'. Process as follows.

"You're here to sign on? Just take a seat for now." I wait patiently for 5 minutes. An advisor near me is on the phone, explaining benefit entitlement. The caller is not eligible for the full jobseeker's allowance because his partner is on incapacity benefit. £102 a week for incapacity benefit, £94.50 jobseeker's allowance if you're a couple.

"Hi there Hannah. So, how's the job search going?"

"Yes, not too bad, I have a few irons in the fire."

"If you could just sign here. Have you received a letter from the Benefits Office yet? You're entitled to £60.50 a week which will be paid into your account on Friday, there's a separate cheque for £25.93 coming to you as well for the first few days. See you in a couple of weeks."

That was it. No more questions asked. No questions about what jobs I'd seen, whether I'd applied, if I'd called people to see how my application was progressing, whether I'd had any feedback on my applications, what I was going to do next, whether I needed any help or any further information..... nothing! In and out in 10 minutes flat. Boom. It was the easiest £60.50 ever.

Now, perhaps I'm getting different treatment because I've filled in my little booklet asking me to keep a record of my job search (which nobody actually follows up, so I can say what I like) but it strikes me that we're missing a huge opportunity to support and coach jobseekers. Surely what the unemployed need is encouragement and support on how to get back to work? I know I am bored out of my mind, and I'm trying really hard to structure and manage my day (as opposed to getting stuck on Crackbook and wishing I was in Alaska with Chris or being a raft guide with Sarah.) It is hard. It is limbo land and I can see it would be so easy to get stuck.

I do wonder about the benefits system. Whilst I support some basic state help so people don't starve, I'm also fully aware that without it, I'd be working in Tesco by now.

Getting my benefit so easily has also made me think about funding social care for the elderly. The population of over 85s will double in the next 20 years. That's incredible. I'm sure we'll have this sorted by the time our generation gets old and have adopted some kind of American insurance system, but what about now? Where are their families? And what about those who don't have well-off families?

We don't have enough money to pay for their care but yet we give money to able-bodied, mentally healthy people like me who should be working. And we have the money to be in Iraq.....

Mairi went to play the music for a WRI choir last night, they were doing a performance for the Montrose Senior Citizens Club. At the end of each meeting, the Senior Citizens all sing this song together. To me it seems like the death march but way more cheerful! You go Senior Citizens.
The End of the Road
Every road through life is a long, long road,
Filled with joys and sorrows too,
As you journey on how your heart will yearn
For the things most dear to you.
With wealth and love 'tis so,
But onward we must go.

Keep right on to the end of the road,
Keep right on to the end,
Tho' the way be long, let your heart be strong,
Keep right on round the bend.
Tho' you're tired and weary still journey on,
Till you come to your happy abode,
Where all the love you've been dreaming of
Will be there at the end of the road.

With a big stout heart to a long steep hill,
We may get there with a smile,
With a good kind thought and an end in view,
We may cut short many a mile.
So let courage every day
Be your guiding star always.

Chorus: Keep right on to the end of the road....

It was written by somebody called Harry Lauder, right after his son died in the First World War.

And is also the Birmingham FC song.

Golf lessons

Golf. The mere mention of the word conjures up all sorts of memories. An enforced session of hitting shots at the airfield at 17 before I got the much-desired driving lesson. Sandy Lyle, Nick Faldo, Seve Ballesteros. The Open. Hours of droning commentary on the TV. High Tea at the Royal Montrose as a family treat. Edzell Golf Club. My mother's annoyance and upset when Dad didn't appear home in time for tea or buggered off to practice as opposed to helping her get their four kids fed and ready for bed.

Golf permeated my childhood. With a father who thought about being a pro and is still a very good golfer, it was never going to be any other way.

As a result, I've stayed as far away from it as possible. So I'm still rather surprised at even going for my two golf lessons. I'd volunteered to hit balls on Sunday, basically because I thought it might be an opportunity for a bonding session with Euan's new girlfriend. However, my father took this as a green light to introduce me to his beloved game.

Yesterday was spent on my swing. Today on chipping and putting. This afternoon I've been left with the swing setter, a gadget to help me get my hand position right and feel the rhythmn of the swing. I must say - and I can't believe I'm writing this - I can see the appeal. It's a mind game.

It's all about skill and the ability to harness that skill, to remain calm and centred when you're hitting those little white balls everywhere apart from where you want them to go. There are definitely parallels with skiing which Dad has cleverly tapped into in his lessons. "Stay centred over your feet. Good, you're not collapsing into your swing which most beginners do. You'll have strong legs from the skiing." He knows me too well. Make a link with skiing or praise my skiing ability in any way and I'll automatically pay attention.

It's been fantastic weather the last couple of days. The Links is a great place to be in the sunshine; a light breeze, the smell of the gorse, sunshine, blue sky and the sound of the sea.

Golfing. Me. I can't believe it. The lengths one will go to when one is not gainfully employed.

Can this really be true?

Boris is Mayor of London. When I left 14 months ago, he was pretty much a figure of ridicule. It wasn't unusual to bump into him out and about in London, pissed as a fart and doing his 'ra ra ra' Boris thing. I remember seeing him in the Duchess of Kent in Highbury one Tuesday night, propping up the bar for last orders.

Now, it appears Ken has been in way too long and so anyone else will do. I agree that this piece by Zoe Williams is rather sloppy commentary, but I share her amazement. I must have missed something since I've been away.

I listened to some radio reporting on the local elections. To paraphrase: "I voted Conservative today. It's all gone to pot since Labour have been in power. My daughter can't even get a mortgage."

Since when has the government really had anything to do with the economy? All they can do is tinker around the edges. It seems as if we just swing from one person to the other without much consideration. "I don't like the way life is so I'm voting for someone else. Maybe they can fix it."

I must admit, I'm really not surprised we're all so disillusioned with politics. We also seem very keen to avoid any personal responsibility for the state we're in. "It's all the government's fault."

Step four: sign on

When was the last time you were in a job centre? For me, I think it was 1996, when I first left the safety of university and wondered how on earth I was going to support myself. (Not so different to now really....)

How things have changed. Gone are the days of white cards on the walls, as modelled here by Mrs T. Of course, now the jobs are advertised online.

The Montrose Job Centre has a beautiful old building to call home and it's all modern inside, with pine floors, open plan desks and smart women chatting amongst themselves. Gone are the numbered tickets and lines of people queuing to meet some grumpy, clueless middle-aged advisor with dandruff.

In contrast, a smart, attractive blonde woman approached me and gave me phone numbers to call about benefits, plus a list of recruitment agencies in Aberdeen and Dundee. How organised. I'm just off the phone to the benefits line, a guy based in a call centre in the north of England - good to know the government is supporting the growth of these soulless places. We chatted about Las Vegas, he's just back from 8 days there. (8 days! What stamina! In fact, let's just have a look at those pics again.... oh what fun.)

The best of the hundred stupid questions: "Do you suffer from any industrial illness?" I couldn't help but laugh. "Why yes, I had an allergic reaction to the whole system a year ago and I'm not sure I've quite managed to get that under control yet."

So, my interview with my personal advisor is on Tuesday. We set out a plan for me to find work and hopefully, s/he approves my jobseeker's allowance.

I'm impressed with how easy and humane the whole process has been so far. You go Job Centres.

Step three: face financial reality

Totted up the finances. I've got about $600, purely monopoly money here. It just offsets the £300 overdraft. So that's zero. If I cash in my premium bonds and sell the BT shares, that'll take me up to £700.

Shit.

Time to forget all ideas of hanging out at a yoga retreat for the next few months or learning to sail or in fact anything that requires any money at all. Lucy gave me some great advice last night. I asked her to let me know if she had any inspiration for me. She said: "I do. Get a job."

So this morning, I'm off to the Job Centre. Maybe I can sign on. It could be worth it just for the concession card. And it will definitely be a cultural experience.

Oh, and it's raining again. See view from two days again.

Step two: apply for a job

It's amazing how quickly the buzzwords come back. I've spent all day doing a skills CV for a marketing role with a learning and development consultancy. Even that last sentence... I can hear the chorus of 'bzzzz bingo!' ringing in my ears, probably three times.

I found a folder dedicated to fretting about my career. I have literally spent hours and hours over the years analysing my strengths and weaknesses, or should I say 'development areas'. 'Bzzz' once more.

So struck by the energy that went into all of this! And to what end? I'm not sure. So I can regurgitate it all on a piece of paper? I doubt very much I do anything differently as a result of it. Any change in my approach has come through actual experience, not just knowledge gained through my Myers-Briggs type, my typical Thomas-Kilmann conflict mode, my preferred Belbin team roles.... you still with me? I can hear the buzzer going furiously.

After completing this task, I then foolishly got lost in my blog from the past year. What was I thinking? Oh new and interesting experiences, described through normal use of the English language.... come back to me!

Never mind, as you can see, the sun is shining today, although I've not been outside at all to enjoy it, I've been hunched over the laptop. I did get dressed in my jeans and Alta hoodie today though - no sweatpants - and I even put in my contacts. Progress.

Step one: reading material

So, having said a tearful goodbye to Jane at 1732 E Hillrise Circle, I got to SLC airport with time to spare and dollars to spend. Where better to begin the return to 30 something concerns than with some reading material? So after 20 minutes in the bookshop, I emerge clutching 'From Me to We: Finding Meaning in a Material World', a copy of Yoga Journal and the Oprah magazine. Add that to 'The Power of Now', purchased in Target the day before, and I had plenty to occupy my thoughts on the very long flight. Certainly much more suitable for my advancing years than People and In Style and discussions on Britney's breakdown.

From 'Me to We' is written by the two brothers who set up Free the Children, a charity set up to free children from poverty and exploitation and also free young people from the notion that they are powerless to affect positive change in the world. I'd read something about one of the brothers somewhere before but hadn't really appreciated he'd been just twelve years old when he got it all going. Impressive stuff.

I also remember Alison J telling me to read 'The Power of Now' ages ago, I tried it and thought it was a load of new age mumbo jumbo, I didn't get past the first chapter. But reading it now, after the travel experiences and spending 10 days meditating in a Buddhist monastery, I know exactly what he's on about. I think this is progress.

Now it's day two of being back in the UK and pouring rain outside. Here's the view. Can you see the rainstreaks on the window? It really is pouring. Ah, British weather, how I've missed you.

So far, I feel content although very displaced. Probably not helped by the mountains of stuff surrounding me; what am I going to do with it all? But I have had a shower and I am dressed - if you can call velour sweatpants and an Alta hoodie dressed. I'll be looking through the grown-up wardrobe later.

Oh, and I think it's time to change this profile picture too. I'll go and find another one and waste a little more time.