Silver Lining

This morning, I stood up in front of 400 odd of my colleagues and told them about the building I'm building for them.  I told them that it's been accepted into the University's plan.  I told them that I have managed to negotiate up to £6m of Capital funding from the government.  I told them that I need their help, to make sure the building has everything in it that they need to be in it.

I didn't tell them about the observatory the astro-physicists want to put on the roof (which will also contribute to the funding of the overall building); or the recorded feed from the telescopes which will beam into the cafeteria throughout the following day.  Nor did I tell them about the deal I'm doing with the conference people to surrender an outpost of our teaching facilities to conferences in exchange for a partial contribution to relocating the carpark on which I want to build this building.  I didn't tell them about all the stuff I've learned about newt habitats, and newt relocation.  I ommitted to mention the sliding walls, flexible grids, novel partitions we're looking at, to make the space as flexible and relevant as possible. 

I completely forgot to tell them how much fun I'm having.

Then, when I got back to my desk, there was an envelope: private and confidential.

It was a letter from my boss's boss, thanking me for my hard work, and expressing how impressed he is at the impact I've had in such a short time.

At some point in the next 18 months, I will have to make career choices again.  It's hard to see how I can improve on the job I have at the moment, frankly.

We all just wanna be big rock stars

I love the little insights into childhood innocence that my children give me.

The other day, in the car, we were discussing what we wanted to do over the weekend.  Daisy was outlining her plans, which involved building a hamster assault course as far as I remember, when Dan piped up:

"I tell you what *I* want...."

"You want a kingsize tub big enough for ten plus you?"  I venture

"No, Mum!! I haven't got 9 brothers and sisters!!!"

Silly me.

In other news, I have booked myself on a reiki course next month.  Very exciting.

Driving to work today, I was held up by some cows, who had escaped from an animal carrier after it crashed into the central reservation, and decided to go for a stroll down the motorway.  On the way home, I tried to pinpoint the spot where it happened.  After all, if something held me up for 45 minutes on a 10 minute stretch of road, there might at least be a sirloin steak left to show for it, no?  So I paid attention to the verges and hard shoulders.

It's the time of year for feeling out of sorts, it seems.  While I am torn between looking out and looking inwards - cross eyed soul - the road verge is showing its true colours.  Too early yet for the fresh green of leaf bud, and too late for the bareness to look arty, the roadside is a camouflage splodge of khaki olive green and brown, with areas of sere black.  As I passed the first, I thought there'd been a burnout - the ground, grass, trees and branches covered with black soot, to about 3 trees deep.  A couple of hundred yards later, the same again; and then again and again.  It seems cars burn out at regular intervals along the A46.

Or not.  It's just dirt, of course.  The accumulated crap thrown up from the wheels and spewed out of the exhausts of a couple of thousand cars, vans, wagons over the winter months.  Thinking about it, there's less surprise in the level of filth in the dark areas - rather more surprising are the areas which have hung onto their minimal levels of green, despite the roadfilth.

I cannot work out, this week, whether I'm a green bit or a bit of burnout.

At 4:30 this morning, my bedroom door opened, and there stood Daisy.  The very image of forlorn. 

"Mummy.  I think I'm going to be sick."

I ushed her into the bathroom and steeled myself to rub her back.  I don't do sick, really.  If I'm around for sick, I tend to just join in and so, in the main, I leave the children to it and offer comfort and cuddles once the purge is over.  However, last time I tried leaving Daisy to it she came with me, and I ended up having to mop diced carrot out of my slippers, and the small of my back.  I figured if I stayed in the bathroom with her, at least we might *both* make it to the toilet...

So today, Daisy has been mostly snuggled on the sofa while I work from home.

And the builders sawed and banged and hammered in the kitchen and Dan's bedroom.

And the dogs whined and snickered and whinged and yapped because the builders were exciting, and sunlight sparkled off their nice, shiny saws.  ("go on, cut her nose off" whispered a small, spiteful voice in my head).

Occasionally, my phone would ring and I'd have to explain some of the finer points of the resource allocation methodology to the senior Professor of Finance, or some such eminent individual.  This is an interesting experience, with the kind of background noise that's been going on here, today.

Dan's room is all but done - it needs skirting boards and a lick of paint.  He's chosen a pale caramel and a bright,  bright red which I think will look great.  I have kickboards back in the kitchen, which looks incredibly clean and tidy as a result.  I have a floor in the airing cupboard.

This weekend, we will be able to put the house back together again.  It will feel so minimalist and calm and still.  It will feel lovely.  I can hardly wait!

Donkey day

I made myself a working from home deal today; if I started early, I could take a break mid-afternoon to do something I enjoy, and then come and finish off my work this evening.

So I worked from 7.30am - 3.30pm. 

Then I finished this:

After tea, I came back to the computer and finished the business plan I've been working on.  And now the children are on their way to bed, I will baste the quilt, ready to finish this weekend.

And in all that, I've been at home, with the kids, and able to be interrupted for random chats about hamsters and playstations. 

It's about perfect, for a working day.

A couple of weeks ago, they gave me a budget around the size of a rollover lottery win, and told me to build a building.

Last week, they asked me to lead on development of one of the 4 strands of the new strategy.  In effect, this means I'm restructuring governance and reviewing resource allocation methodology.  I'll also be overseeing development of operational exellence workshops and efficiencies.  No budget on this one, though.

This week, I need to write a business plan for the next but one academic year, focussing on my team's priorities and projects in support of the new strategy.

Last night, instead of concentrating on any of this, I wrote a little excel quiz for the team to play with before we close for Christmas. 

Still, Christmas is shopped for and merely needs wrapping up, and this year I have found my mojo, for the first time in ages.  We have a tree, and house decorations, and I am going to bake a cake for Christmas tea in the office.  It's all good.

Three colours contradictory

Enrolling student one:

I have enrolled anyway [including signing a statement to agree to pay all her academic fees for the year], but I wanted to tell you I have deferred my entry until 2008.

Enrolling student two:

I'm a second year PPE student.  I want to know if there's any reason why I can't re-enrol for my course this year, and at the same time enrol in a new full-time course in Denmark.

Me to Moo:

I've bought you a packet of condoms to take to University with you.  I'd prefer it if you didn't use them.

Has the world gone mad???

Congratulations, Silver, it's....

.... a new job!

I got the job.

"I knew you would" announces Dan.

"I said to Childminder, 'If she can handle 3 kids, she can handle anything' ".

I am working on degree ceremonies this week.  Watching the parents.  Shepherding the graduates.  Slow marching with the mace.

There is much scent and air kissing.  Proud mummies looking frightfully solemn, and fathers shaking hands with their offspring's friends' fathers, with a slightly bemused air.

One of my jobs is to ensure that the graduands are properly (formally) dressed.  I have handed out many ties.  So far though, I have managed (just) not to say "No, dear, it's legs *or* cleavage."  but my tongue is nearly bitten through.

I'm glad we didn't meet at University.

On the domestic front, Dan has set up his ELC wooden pirate ship.  There are knights in shining armour on one deck, and pirates on the other.

"I'm doing something a bit like Big Brother", he announces.

????

"Yes, they fight each other.  Then one of them dies.  Then the others come to the conference room and talk about it."

I think it might be time to take the TV out of his bedroom...

Oh.  And I'm through to the second round.

4 hours!   Four.  Hours.  Of.  Interview.

Two or three days ago, I did a psychometric test.  There were 185 pages, with 4 statements a page.  Of each set of statements, you had to choose which was most like you, and which was least like you.  *That* was tiring enough...  *That* was an hour and a half, on its own!

Then yesterday, I shushed into reception at 11am.  I was assigned my own, dedicated personnel officer and taken upstairs to be talked through the programme.  First was an informal meeting with two people I know moderately and one I've never met. 

"We thought this would be a fantastic opportunity for you to ask us questions!"  They began. 

Uh Oh.  I was kind of hoping to save that for the end, frankly.  But I managed to cobble some stuff together, and we chatted for half an hour.  Before I knew it, my personnel officer was tappety tapping on the door:  "Sorry, we can't over-run" she apologised, as we climbed the stairs to my second informal meeting.  With the team I'd be managing, if I get the job.  That was the one which had most exercised me, in the preparation stage, but in the event it was ok. 

"How would the people who work for you now describe you?".  Good question!  I talked about trusting people to get on with their own work, and giving them ownership and autonomy of their part of my big picture.  Obtaining consensus, and managing by exception.  I didn't tell them that actually, I think I'm better at leadership than management.  Obviously.

Tappety-tap.  Lunchtime.  Lunch was in the common room.  This is a fantastically modern department with an amazing social space for staff.  A buffet was laid on at one end, to which all 4 candidates, the full panel and a selection of departmental staff were invited.  I chatted to a lovely girl from the alumni office, who made me laugh and spray her with sandwich crumbs.  Not good.  Still, she was wearing a Glastonbury wristband, so I expect she's used to worse.

I managed not to give myself indigestion, which was a bonus.  Next up, the panel.  Head of personnel, bigwig, senior academic, 'nother bigwig, my boss.  I gave a ten minute presentation on how I would achieve 4 major projects in addition to my normal workload, and each panel member asked 3-5 questions on the presentation.  Then we launched into the formal interview.

About an hour and a quarter later, I was ushered out.  We had overrun, and there was no time for the questions I'd carefully saved.

My lovely personnel officer took me downstairs, where I was put in the charge of another member of my perhaps-to-be team, to be shown around the building.  To be honest, by this time my brain was scrambled egg, and I'm pretty sure my eyes were spinning.  Four walls, roof.  Lecture theatres.  Seminar spaces.  Lovely, airy atria. 

I tottered off back to my office, clutching the report from my psychometric test.  Apparently I am completely like everybody else, with no outstanding features at all!  Very disappointing.

I will hear by the end of the week.