M
Mouse
Guest
Recent stormy weather brought gales and lashing rain to cause insomnia, and when one is tired one is grumpy and writer's block sets in to make me feel even worse.
Physical activity like chopping logs helps free up the mind to write, but writing doesn't pay the bills, so my junior assistant manager's job helped supplement my income. Except the cafe's manager relegated me to pulling espressos all day because of staff shortages, and a normal day stretched into twelve hour shifts. I came home not only physically tired, but bored out of my head only to say hello to the dreaded writer's block once more.
6 AM yesterday I phoned in sick, only to be told the coffee bar was closed for the rest of the week for refurbishments. I only had two hour's sleep and the gardenia manager hadn't even told me, let alone the rest of his staff. I said thanks for not telling me, you were always uncaring, dilatory in the grey matter department, and resigned the job with immediate effect prior to slamming the phone down on his objections.
So, what to do? I could live off my partner's income but I'm an independent young woman. Okay, I already had work coming in from my literary agent but financially it was hardly enough to pay this quarter's gas bill, let alone eat. Last night I decided to do gardening for a living, and while I'm still technically a student working on a home study course, at least I will have financial independence and be self-employed.
Dad had a lovely big house and garden, and I'd cut his grass and tidy up the flowerbeds and trim the hedges. It's not as if I'm a stranger to gardening or hard work. In his twilight months I kept house and garden and still managed my studies.
Today I managed to get my first gardening job. Thanks to my adopted family who helped me choose a used Defender 110 pickup that was in good nick bar some dents and scratches, I came away with a bargain. Later in town after I bought a couple of spring rakes, sacks, netting, gloves, a decent fork and spade, Felco secateurs, a Mountfield lawnmover and a Stihl hedge trimmer, both petrol driven, I called at a large property in my village.
The man looked me up and down and remarked that I didn't look as if I had 'much meat' on me. Smiling I said I'd prove him to the contrary in giving him two hours free of my time. If he liked my work, he could hire me on a day rate. The man, a gruff old bugger smiled and said okay, you're on Missy.
"Call me Mouse," I said, smiling. The man laughed.
I raked up all the leaves in his garden and netted them down. I tidied up his flowerbeds and by that time my work had stretched into three hours. His missus called me in to give a large mug of hot steaming coffee. I was hired.
They never took references. They said I was as good as my word. Decent of them, they even paid me for the three hours. Forty-five pounds' cash in pocket, I went home feeling absolutely great.
Today on my 17th birthday I'd passed my driving test and got a new job. One that gets me outdoors, in among flowers and shrubs that don't shout back. And when it rains I'll still have my writing, and in the evenings my home study degree course. The Land Rover Defender pickup drives like a tank. On the roads I feel safe. Mouse done well, then.
Physical activity like chopping logs helps free up the mind to write, but writing doesn't pay the bills, so my junior assistant manager's job helped supplement my income. Except the cafe's manager relegated me to pulling espressos all day because of staff shortages, and a normal day stretched into twelve hour shifts. I came home not only physically tired, but bored out of my head only to say hello to the dreaded writer's block once more.
6 AM yesterday I phoned in sick, only to be told the coffee bar was closed for the rest of the week for refurbishments. I only had two hour's sleep and the gardenia manager hadn't even told me, let alone the rest of his staff. I said thanks for not telling me, you were always uncaring, dilatory in the grey matter department, and resigned the job with immediate effect prior to slamming the phone down on his objections.
So, what to do? I could live off my partner's income but I'm an independent young woman. Okay, I already had work coming in from my literary agent but financially it was hardly enough to pay this quarter's gas bill, let alone eat. Last night I decided to do gardening for a living, and while I'm still technically a student working on a home study course, at least I will have financial independence and be self-employed.
Dad had a lovely big house and garden, and I'd cut his grass and tidy up the flowerbeds and trim the hedges. It's not as if I'm a stranger to gardening or hard work. In his twilight months I kept house and garden and still managed my studies.
Today I managed to get my first gardening job. Thanks to my adopted family who helped me choose a used Defender 110 pickup that was in good nick bar some dents and scratches, I came away with a bargain. Later in town after I bought a couple of spring rakes, sacks, netting, gloves, a decent fork and spade, Felco secateurs, a Mountfield lawnmover and a Stihl hedge trimmer, both petrol driven, I called at a large property in my village.
The man looked me up and down and remarked that I didn't look as if I had 'much meat' on me. Smiling I said I'd prove him to the contrary in giving him two hours free of my time. If he liked my work, he could hire me on a day rate. The man, a gruff old bugger smiled and said okay, you're on Missy.
"Call me Mouse," I said, smiling. The man laughed.
I raked up all the leaves in his garden and netted them down. I tidied up his flowerbeds and by that time my work had stretched into three hours. His missus called me in to give a large mug of hot steaming coffee. I was hired.
They never took references. They said I was as good as my word. Decent of them, they even paid me for the three hours. Forty-five pounds' cash in pocket, I went home feeling absolutely great.
Today on my 17th birthday I'd passed my driving test and got a new job. One that gets me outdoors, in among flowers and shrubs that don't shout back. And when it rains I'll still have my writing, and in the evenings my home study degree course. The Land Rover Defender pickup drives like a tank. On the roads I feel safe. Mouse done well, then.