Forgotten times and gameshows.

I feel ultra cosy tonight. Nothing special, just cosier than usual. Maybe it's because I've finally started to feel caught up at work or simply because it's the only moment today in which I've been able to sit down and chill? Who knows; all I know is that I'm cosy and that shall be my word of the night.

Today was the dreaded 'Weakest Link' themed gameshow afternoon at work. We do it every year just before September (our busiest period due to the schools going back). I'm presuming that other countries have some form of The Weakest Link? Most of these successful gameshows tend to be exported to death so I'll presume you've probably heard of it. It's meant to be a kind of morale boosting exercise whilst also providing an opportunity for the customer service agents to brush up on their knowledge. It's also great for the newly recruited temps to mingle with the permanent staff. It's a always a huge success and the guys love it but my god, it takes so much planning. I've been organising it for what seems like weeks and, gratuitous whinging aside, that's easier said than done whilst also trying to the run the Customer Service Department with most of the other managers off. Needless to say, I donned my Johnny Cash attire, channelled the acid tongue of Anne Robinson and fun was had by all. I'm kind of jealous of the first place prize though - a cow shaped milk jug (not as random as it seems as we work with dairies). I almost stole it for myself.

We still have a few days left before the dreaded September where we all become slaves to the wage from 7am to 7pm so I'm going to force myself into making sure that we're fully caught up and ready. Thinking about it, I suppose it's our version of retail's Christmas after all.

Adam has just been given a promotion so no sooner had I got in this evening that we had to venture into the city to purchase some new work clothes. No rest for the wicked. Despite my insistence that he has enough clothes to open a GAP, he was adamant that he wanted something more 'managerial'. He cracks me up sometimes. As per tradition, I wandered around the other shops whilst he busied himself with clothes; bought myself a coffee and grabbed a brand new office chair that was luckily on offer in ASDA (of all places). I'm resting the old derrière on it now and I have to say, it's quite comfortable for the price. Wonders never cease as to what supermarkets will start selling next.

One of my best friends from back home (Alysha), sent me a message yesterday informing me that her cousin Marie had found an old bible in their attic full of old photos. Marie bought her house from my Nan after my Great Uncle passed away a few years ago. It had been in my family since it was built; first home to my Great Grandad before my Great Uncle. She is currently in the process of renovating it before selling and came across the find in the far corner of one of the attics. I asked Alysha to send me a couple of photos with her phone so I could see what they were of and preempt my Dad and Nan before collecting them from her. It looks as though they are from the turn of the century (1900-1925 ish) but I have no idea who the photos are of. My guess is that the little girl is most likely my Nan on her Dad's knee. As for the other photo, I have no idea who the ladies are and, strangely, the bible is addressed to a Phyllis White. I personally have never heard of a Phyllis White but that means nothing in my family. To this date, my Nan has never ever spoken of her mother and a quick call to my Dad confirmed that his Grandmother has never been mentioned to him either. He told me to go ahead and take the stuff to my Nan but he warned me to tread carefully as he isn't sure how she will react if any of it relates to her Mum. He suspects that she may not even admit it and try to pass it off as someone else's photos - obviously this is impossible as my family have been the only ones in the house previously. I know that it's a sensitive subject but I really want to know what happened with my Great Grandparents - how sad would it be if my Nan took that to the grave with her? I have a fantastic relationship with my Nan so I'm hoping she'll open up to me. Fingers crossed. I'm extremely interested to know who the soldier is in the second photo. I'm pretty sure that it must be World War I and that looks like an African uniform, maybe Egypt? To my knowledge, I've never heard of any family members fighting in the Great War so that would be quite the revelation. To be honest, I don't think that many men returned from that war at all; such a sad time for many English families.

Now, after that short history lesson and the stresses of the day, I'm all showered up and ready to hit the hay. I generally detest sleep as I feel as though I'm wasting the precious night but I have to admit that I'm extremely excited to finally get some rest. The waking up early part has not even crossed my mind yet so I'll bid you all a fond farewell before I give that sickening thought any time to manifest.

God natt alla! (as they'd say in good ol' Sweden)

Spider September.

I'm not sure what it is about September that has always filled me with dread.

I think it stems from forgotten school days - those long fun filled Summers brought to an abrupt end by the creeping presence of the coming school term. September meant change; new classes, new starts, new friends. I've never been a fan of change.

Even now, as a fully fledged adult, September still echoes an identical premise. My first chosen job role, fresh out of education is one that works alongside the UK's schools. With it comes the August lull closely followed by the dreaded September; our busiest month.

September once meant new rucksacks, stationary, lunch boxes and uniforms - all designed to inject a slight hint of excitement into what can only be described as a month of pure misery. Now, as a 23-year-old slave to the wage, I am forced to endure this endless cycle in its purest form. Even the hugely anticipated novelty of a new shirt wears off within two days.

It is amazing, when you think about it, how many elements of day to day life revolve around the inevitable term calendar and whether or not the little tikes are in school. Traffic heightens, holiday prices increase and shopping centres become busier. In my current job role, the stress levels increase and morale goes down - something I'm sure you'll see reflected in the posts I make here. I love what I do, truly I do but believe me when I say that anything that involves children and parents is a logistical nightmare. They are impossible to second guess and impossible to pacify. No matter how much of an expert you believe you are in this field, you will always be proven wrong. They will always find a way to prove you wrong. At the end of each day I am frequently left pondering exactly how it is that schools  still manage to function.

Aside from the ebb and flow of the academic calendar, September always seems to bring about the seasonal u-turn. England, if it is lucky, gets just two weeks of great Summer weather at the most and, more often than not, these two weeks occur right at the end of August; right before September arrives and obliterates all trace of blue sky and warmth. September is a thief, a selfish wanton thief on a mission to dissolve all sense of Summer happiness in order to make way for the icy onslaught of Winter. As I type this, I understand how hyperbolic I may sound but in my much needed defence, it is not just humans that seem to be affected by this jobsworth of a month.

Spider September is utterly terrifying; give me a thousand schools or a bitterly cold Autumn any day. My only explanation is that, with children condemned back to their classrooms, some higher being deems it necessary to replace mankind's punishment with a sudden plague of eight-legged devil creatures. Even they hate September enough to decide that, instead of frolicking outdoors as they do the rest of the year, they would prefer to come inside and cohabit. Maybe they are just on the lookout for new friends or feel they are doing us a favour by cleansing us of gnats, yet in reality, they bring me to the edge of a nervous breakdown year on year on year. That unrelenting fear of little legs appearing on your pillow at night, scuttling across walls at the flick of a light switch - it truly is the thing of nightmares. That feeling of complete inadequacy that consumes me every time I squeal like a small girl whilst brushing my teeth does absolutely nothing for my self esteem. I'm not even sure I could cope in a foreign country where the wildlife makes ours seem a complete joy. I wonder how they feel about us? I wonder how they feel about September? Do you think they enjoy coming inside and snuggling up to those that resent them so much or is it a case of the better of two evils - humans or the British weather?

I guess, in a nutshell, that what I'm trying to say is that I completely loathe September and everything that this damn month encompasses.

And that is how I'm feeling today.