but I can’t stand gardening, I am crap at putting a shelf up so I guess I wouldn’t make a great builder and I don’t even paint my own house so I don’t think there is a career there either. I reckon after spending most of the last month with estate agents, I could probably do a better job than half of them. I am sure I could sell more properties simply by cutting out the bullshit and being honest.
What I would like to do and what I can realistically affordto do are two different things. I can’t afford to take a pay cut, which stops me from starting a new career as the wet-behind -the-ears new boy. So I dusted off my CV today and started looking at jobs that are vaguely related to my project management experience, problem-solving skills and organisational abilities. ‘Organisational abilities’ – what a load of nonsense. I am the sort of person who forgets appointments, rarely remembers birthdays, never has any food in the fridge (when I used to have my own fridge) and books holiday villas but forgets to book the flights. But apparently I have ‘well-developed organisational abilities’ according to my CV.
Friday 30 th May
I took the kids to see the flat this evening.
‘It’s a bit small, dad,’ was Sean’s reaction. Get used to it, son. Neither of the boys were exactly jumping up and down with excitement but they do understand that I am working to a budget. They were content with the location so I think it’s a go. It is hardly a detached house in Surrey but it will have to do for the next year or so at least.
I haven’t quite signed the paperwork yet as I wanted to come home and work out my finances just to be sure I can afford it. Having done the maths for about the tenth time, I am still not sure. I might have to reassess the amount I am paying to my ex. Strictly speaking I am paying her slightly more than I am obliged to by the proper authorities. If I reduce my payments to her, it won’t go down well. I have got a tricky balance to strike there because if I reduce it by too much, she won’t be able to afford to keep the house. And then the kids will suffer. If it wasn’t for that little nuance, I would have been paying her less from the start.
Our trip to the flat was followed by a trip to the curry house. I love a good curry and decided today that it is about time I started educating my kids on the intricacies of Indian restaurant menus. My ex wouldn’t have covered this vital life skill as she doesn’t possess it herself.
We went to my old haunt, the Motspur Park Tandoori. Had we been there a couple of hours later we would have been joined by groups of inebriated revellers as they left the Earl Beatty pub next door, but with the sun still being high in the sky when we arrived, ours and another family were the only two groups in the restaurant.
‘Whoever can eat the hottest curry can have an ice-cream for dessert,’ I challenged them.
Ever the competitor, Jack took me up on the challenge and ordered a madras. Sean decided he didn’t want to play and went for a korma. I couldn’t let my eldest beat me so I asked the grinning waiter for a vindaloo. The curries arrived. Sean didn’t care that he wouldn’t win the contest and concentrated on enjoying his curry. Jack endured his curry. He wasn’t bothered about the prize either but he did want to get one over on me. My curry was the hottest thing I have ever tasted despite me telling the chef whilst on my way to the toilet to go easy on the chillies. I failed woefully.
Of course we all ended up having ice cream. We had a great night. On the way home Jack and Sean told me that when I was in the toilet they had asked the waiter to add extra spice to my vindaloo.
Sunday 1 st June
So yesterday I saw my ex out socially for the first time since she became my ex. Obviously she wasn’t out socially with me but we were out socially at the same place, the Morden Brook.
The lads had arranged to meet up to give Andy a bit of a send-off
What I would like to do and what I can realistically affordto do are two different things. I can’t afford to take a pay cut, which stops me from starting a new career as the wet-behind -the-ears new boy. So I dusted off my CV today and started looking at jobs that are vaguely related to my project management experience, problem-solving skills and organisational abilities. ‘Organisational abilities’ – what a load of nonsense. I am the sort of person who forgets appointments, rarely remembers birthdays, never has any food in the fridge (when I used to have my own fridge) and books holiday villas but forgets to book the flights. But apparently I have ‘well-developed organisational abilities’ according to my CV.
Friday 30 th May
I took the kids to see the flat this evening.
‘It’s a bit small, dad,’ was Sean’s reaction. Get used to it, son. Neither of the boys were exactly jumping up and down with excitement but they do understand that I am working to a budget. They were content with the location so I think it’s a go. It is hardly a detached house in Surrey but it will have to do for the next year or so at least.
I haven’t quite signed the paperwork yet as I wanted to come home and work out my finances just to be sure I can afford it. Having done the maths for about the tenth time, I am still not sure. I might have to reassess the amount I am paying to my ex. Strictly speaking I am paying her slightly more than I am obliged to by the proper authorities. If I reduce my payments to her, it won’t go down well. I have got a tricky balance to strike there because if I reduce it by too much, she won’t be able to afford to keep the house. And then the kids will suffer. If it wasn’t for that little nuance, I would have been paying her less from the start.
Our trip to the flat was followed by a trip to the curry house. I love a good curry and decided today that it is about time I started educating my kids on the intricacies of Indian restaurant menus. My ex wouldn’t have covered this vital life skill as she doesn’t possess it herself.
We went to my old haunt, the Motspur Park Tandoori. Had we been there a couple of hours later we would have been joined by groups of inebriated revellers as they left the Earl Beatty pub next door, but with the sun still being high in the sky when we arrived, ours and another family were the only two groups in the restaurant.
‘Whoever can eat the hottest curry can have an ice-cream for dessert,’ I challenged them.
Ever the competitor, Jack took me up on the challenge and ordered a madras. Sean decided he didn’t want to play and went for a korma. I couldn’t let my eldest beat me so I asked the grinning waiter for a vindaloo. The curries arrived. Sean didn’t care that he wouldn’t win the contest and concentrated on enjoying his curry. Jack endured his curry. He wasn’t bothered about the prize either but he did want to get one over on me. My curry was the hottest thing I have ever tasted despite me telling the chef whilst on my way to the toilet to go easy on the chillies. I failed woefully.
Of course we all ended up having ice cream. We had a great night. On the way home Jack and Sean told me that when I was in the toilet they had asked the waiter to add extra spice to my vindaloo.
Sunday 1 st June
So yesterday I saw my ex out socially for the first time since she became my ex. Obviously she wasn’t out socially with me but we were out socially at the same place, the Morden Brook.
The lads had arranged to meet up to give Andy a bit of a send-off
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