2013 - That Was The Year That Was ...
TENTH BLOG 31/12/13
... All about redundancy.
So my old buddy, my old pal, HMV - went into administration at the beginning of this year (2013). HMV - His Master’s Voice: the music retailer, where I first fused my love of pop and dance music with my fascination in boys; hung out at weekends making the local store staff mugs of tea (and fancying most of the lads that worked there), and helping to separate 12” plastic sleeves and boards in the hope of payback in the form of a cassette tape or some promotional item; HMV - that had started me on my career path back in 1989 in a new store in Torquay, moved me to Oxford Street, then kept bumping into me as I meandered through jobs at record labels, worked with a MASSIVE management company, and onto record distributors where increasingly our paths continued to cross until I ended up - eventually - as the HMV account manager for the poster company I worked for for twenty years. Retailers in today’s economic climate face ever harsher markets, and the pressure placed on the buyers to achieve the keenest deals filters down to their suppliers, which in the case of this particular individual, i.e. me, actually led me to have a ‘stress related illness’ or as is often referred - ‘a nervous breakdown’ halfway through 2012.
To be brutally honest, although HMV going into administration was heartbreakingly awful for me (especially as my career was so intertwined with them, and I still felt very loyal to them) and was completely horrendous for all of the staff involved - many of whom lost their jobs - it helped me to make a hard decision so much easier.
My company needed to downsize in response to this change of events. I’d been sitting around for a fortnight, doing ‘busy’ work due to not being able to trade. I’d even taken annual leave as I felt guilty for being paid a decent wage to effectively tread water. We were told, sickeningly - as these things tend to be - on a fateful Friday, that thirty-five of us may be made redundant.
Well, it took me a few hours of discussion, some calculations, and a phone-call to Devon to make up my mind. I’d take that redundancy, in fact, I’d go so far as to fall on my sword in the hope of saving a couple of other members of staff, and go gladly marching into the great unknown in search of adventure!
I’d also read the following piece from Jon Krakauer’s non-fiction book, ‘Into the Wild’ -
"Make a radical change in your lifestyle and begin to boldly do things which you may previously never have thought of doing, or been too hesitant to attempt. So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservation, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The very basic core of a man’s living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun. If you want to get more out of life, you must lose your inclination for monotonous security and adopt a helter-skelter style of life that will at first appear to you to be crazy. But once you become accustomed to such a life you will see its full meaning and its incredible beauty."
It really resonated with me, especially as I’d been so unhappy in my work for the previous twelve months.
Opting for redundancy made my exit so much easier, as firstly I was able to take some control over what happened next, rather than waiting for the Sword of Damocles to fall, and it also made dialogue between my boss and me much easier. Rather than there be a horrible strain to our relationship we could actually reminisce over the previous twenty years. I even had to be asked to restrain my brimming-over joy, as the same ‘sword’ was still hanging over others and I needed to tone it down a bit!
On the 1st February, I walked away from work as I knew it. It felt really good.
... All about selling up and shipping out
As well documented here already, we took the decision to sell as much of our stuff as possible for the first half of the year, and then put the rest in storage in Devon in order to de-clutter our house for prospective buyers to see it in all its glory. In between the selling on eBay and the weekly round of ‘car-booting’ we managed to fit in dog walks (daily), pub lunches (at least once a week), dinners (The Treby Arms, Greens in Didsbury, plus breakfast at Balthazar in London), parties, hanging with friends, watching DVDs, listening (and really enjoying) lots of music, dog-sitting (Dougie, Harry, Coco), friends visiting, visiting friends, Crufts, Badminton Horse Trials, Chatsworth Horse Trials, a polo lesson, a Peaches gig, then of course a goddamn broken ankle which literally brought things to a halt for a while.
... All about my broken ankle
For my Facebook friends the Summer of the Broken Ankle probably seemed to go on FOREVER. To be fair I did go on about it ... a lot. But in between the morphine-d off my tits status updates which kept me sane in a hospital ward full of geriatrics with broken hips (I’m not kidding, I was the youngest one in there by about forty years!) I like to believe that I managed to keep people amused, as well as reassuring them that I’d made it through surgery. My operation went on for about an hour longer than it was meant to, was apparently quite complicated, and as a result I have a seven hole plate, plus a smaller plate and a screw in my fibula for the rest of my life. If I ever set off an airport security device I will be sure to let you know, but I haven’t had occasion to visit one yet. I’m sure my scar will be proof enough that I’m not actually ‘packing heat’.
I had eight weeks of hobbling. Well, actually a month of no weight on my ‘bad’ ankle - which was interesting when nature called in the middle of the night and I had to wrestle my crutches and me down the long corridor. Even more interesting when I ate prunes to counteract the constipation caused by the codeine I was taking and had to get upstairs quickly - on my backside! I grew calluses with ‘crutch hands’; got frustrated because I could do pretty much nothing except move from one seat to another with my leg always elevated in front of me; I couldn’t carry anything - so after a while started moving around with a shopping bag suspended off my crutches, so I could take my book or notepad or laptop or bottle of water and drugs with me - or all of them. I even took to pushing a trolley around with all these things on (I wasn’t the most patient patient.) One massive bonus through all of this was the fact we had the dreamiest summer; long sun-filled days, slight breezes, and no work to feel guilty about not going into. I got the best tan I’ve ever had (and I’ve been to the Caribbean!) even if my left leg did have the strangest tan-line once the cast came off. I never did get a permanent cast, which was a slight disappointment as I wanted the paw-print variety, but soon transferred to a Big Black (velcroed) Boot. This meant I could bathe properly for the first time in a month (sitting on the floor of the shower cubicle half in-half out did not a satisfactory washing experience make!) I could also shave my leg - which had grown so hairy I could virtually plait it!
It also meant I could become a bit more mobile, as I had to start putting weight onto it, and we could also go visiting, so we headed off to Devon for a round of dinners, lunches, popping into friends, as well as getting some physiotherapy advice from my Mum and one of my best friends from childhood.
We went to hound shows, we bought a caravan, Fran even towed the caravan from Nottinghamshire to Devon, and therein lies another story ... I was nervous of the journey so Fran blagged it with me that she’d towed plenty of things before. My Mum, step-dad, and three close friends were all ‘in on it’. Fran did really well on the day. We rolled up, she reversed the car up to the caravan, hooked it up perfectly on the first attempt, and it wasn’t until we were pulling out of the driveway when I looked at her and said ‘You’ve never towed anything in your life, have you?’ Without batting an eyelid she replied, ‘No.’ The journey, whilst it went on for HOURS, was uneventful, and she managed to even get it down the narrow winding Devon lanes virtually without meeting a single vehicle coming the opposite way, and the lorry she did meet waited in a wide spot. Jammy.
We were now into August and looking back my diary is filled with reminders five times a day to ‘do exercises’ to get my ankle into working order again. We appointed estate agents at the beginning of the month - two months later than planned, but which worked in our eventual favour. We cleaned the house from top to bottom, even enlisting the help of my friend and her cleaning company (thanks, Michelle and ‘Nita and I’m not allowed to forget Lynne and Eros ‘Guess who’s missing’ Marshall!) This really paid off when we got the visit from the nice man from the estate agents who took all the photographs and did the required energy efficiency evaluation. The house looked gorgeous. We both asked each other why we were selling it. But the end goal was more in view than ever, and we’d got new plans to pursue elsewhere.
The day before the house was cleaned we had moved eighty percent of our possessions with a ‘reputable’ removal company into storage in our container in Devon. I won’t go into the details again here, other than to say it is worth moving with a B.A.R. (British Association of Removers) registered firm, because at least you have legal backing when you have a dispute. This was how I managed to claim back (after some prolonged and determined letter writing) more than two-thirds of the original cost.
So, the shiny pretty house was put on the market on the 2nd September. By the 10th we’d sold it. We had twenty-two interested viewers (I even showed seven of them round myself) and this was whittled down to five who put in offers under the ‘sealed bid’ system. We were on holiday in Devon at the time (checking on the damage done to our possessions!) and couldn’t quite believe the level of interest. Nor that we’d sold it for so much more than we expected. Bloody hell - this shit just got real!
... All about twins
Along the way (through no intervention of my own!) I became an auntie. My brother and his wife had VERY premature twin (buy one, get one free) boys in October (they weren’t due until December). I’m pleased to say that Jamie and Charlie are doing well, as are Ma and Pa. (2018 EDIT: 5 this year!)
November passed in a blur. There were plenty of legal emails and letters flying around that needed responding to regarding the conveyancing of the house. The party that I’d hoped to host didn’t materialise (I just don’t have that many friends!!) so we chose the more intimate individual goodbyes over dinner, drinks, cocktails, and dog walks.
It was the 21st November that we had a crazy day of van-loading aka home-styled removals. It all started fantastically well when the van that had been booked (by me) supposedly eleven days earlier failed to show up, and then we were told it was never going to - cue mass panic and frantic phone calls around the city to find a replacement van. If it hadn’t been for the help of Joe and especially, Jonathan, who - god bless you, Jonathan - offered to travel down with us so that we didn’t have to drive the van back (we had ‘booked’ a ‘drive and drop’ van initially) then I don’t quite know what we’d have done. Apart from stressing out MASSIVELY.
... All about Devon
We’ve been in Devon, in my old bedroom, in my Mum’s house for just over a month. It’s been an interesting experience, but we’re really bloody lucky and extremely grateful, and I realise that Fran and my relationship must be pretty special that we can live in such close quarters without falling out - in fact this year, although incredibly difficult for both of us at times, has brought us so much closer together.
So, sparing you some (quite a lot) of detail, that’s it. Our 2013 year in summary. Some parts were a bit crappy, but LOADS of times were AWESOME. I’ve not worked for ten months (this will change) and it’s been a fantastic sabbatical. If any of you can negotiate one, I strongly recommend it. I’ve learnt that stuff isn’t worth having (mostly) - it’s just stuff. I’ve re-established that family and friends are the most important ‘possessions’ you can have. I’ve realised that I’ve always belonged in Devon, but Sheffield was a pretty special home for twenty years too. I’ve learnt the importance of patience, and how sometimes it takes a broken bone (or three) to realise it. I’ve learnt that it isn’t all about me (but mostly it is.) ;)
2014 is the Year of the Horse. Those that know me will know how important these beauties are to me, and through some good friends I still have access to them, even if I can’t consider having my own to ride yet. Who knows what this year will bring - but in line with the usual wishes on the last day of the old year, I hope you all have a better year than the last, achieve things you didn’t realise you could, and have more happy times than sad, more good times than bad. Let’s raise a toast to everyone with a Happy New Year!
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My yearly round-up
All about HMV going into administration.
All about redundancy. Mine. Hurrah for that!
All about pub lunches, dog walks, selling unwanted possessions on eBay, listening to music, wanting a space machine to take me back to 1992 for one more night of ecstatic night-clubbing, horse trials, and thinking ahead.
All about a broken ankle. In three places, thank you very much, an extended operation, and only two nights on a ward (although if you were a friend of mine on Facebook at the time, the ‘Long Hot Summer of the Ankle’ felt like it went on FOREVER.)
All about a smart ‘new’ car. FFS. (That’s the number plate, I’m not swearing for the sake of it.)
All about selling our house. In ten days. For lots more than we expected. (Thank you, Jeebus.)
All about packing up, shipping out, claiming back - Part One.
All about goodbyes. And dinners out, and more pub lunches.
All about promise, and looking forwards, and a lightening of the heart and spirits, even though the future is not certain, but hey, guess what? The future is NOT certain. (Taxes and death are however.)
Some more goodbyes, some more packing up, then moving out - Part Two (with some bumps in the road on the way, so there was a Part Three too).
Then DEVON. Just as I’d promised it at the end of January 2013, at some point this year I was ‘coming to get it’. And by November we were here. Finally here. Returned to the Homeland (and I’m glad the TV show ended the way it did - it was the right thing for it), the Motherland if you like - back before I’d spent more than half my life away from the place I was raised.
We’re here, we’re staying, and we’ve got lots to do. Now if only it would stop raining ...
Happy New Year to you all.
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