Plan B

Like many other bloggers, I'm not going to go into the current Australian Political condition. We got what we deserved, and in many ways, I think this may be the start of something great. We have to start demanding more from our government, more compassion, more choice, more sensible answers off the people we elect to serve us in government. No more of this polictical back biting - SAY WHAT YOU STAND FOR - for pity's sake. Besides, I'm happy, I live in the seat of Melbourne - we have the only Green House of Representatives member in the country and he seems like a very decent bloke.

Oh, and my tarot cards say that after compromise an a decent look at what it is we really want, and elder statesman will rise up to either block or take control. Expect another election to be called in nine weeks -  or the back end of October. Let's see how accurate they are.

Okay, it's now time for Plan B.

The sabbatical, which I have been bleating on about, the one that my manager and his manager encouraged me to put in for got rejected by the senior leadership team, or SLT as they will be known from now on. The reason for this - they see me as having work in the short term - but they can't project me out for six months at this stage. So basically this means, I might have work. Or I might be  made redundant.

The outcome of Saturday's election doesn't help matters as nobody knows what will happen. The NBN may be canned , they may not be canned. Nobody knows with the state of the nation. In telecommunications nothing is going to move for a while. And we're the largest  supplier of telecommunications equipment in Australia. Everything's going into stasis for a bit.

Not so strangely I'm okay with both options, particularly the last one as it will make me move on rather than just sit here in my boredom, grubbing around for stuff to do. It's been really demoralising. I've gone from having a job I love here at Tin Can, String and Whistle to one where coming in is a drudge.

I'll admit to being really annoyed that this didn't come off, but I am now hoepful that things can turn around. I'm rather put out that the SLT, the nameless faceless Hollow Men if the company can't clearly see a future for me. But, I have a holiday to look forward to and then we can start thinking about life and what I want to do with it - or more to the point, what I want to do with my career. Focus on the positive.

The sabbatical opened up all of this wonderful new thoughts - train as a personal trainer (yes at a chubby 42, here I am thinking I can inspire people to exercise - and I'm not joking), spend an hour a day writing what I want, go contracting in some IT job, meet new people, do new things, have a holiday in Thailand with the new hunky boyfriend (extrapolating that last one out)

Rather than being disheartened and bitter about the sabbatical not happening, it's really opened up my options. For this I'm greatful. Now all I have to do is get off my bum and make it happen.

Before closing, thanks to those who wished me a happy birthday. I had a lovely day. A lovely relaxed day at work, lunch with friends at Nandos - a guilty favorite of mine, dinner with a new friend and then off to the theatre to see the Melbourne Theatre Company's latest offering, which was great fun. The boys at work outdid themselves and there is a bottle of Jo Malone Red Roses furnishing my dresser - something I would never buy for myself, but the DJs gift card let this happen. For a mob of engineers they really are sweet. Even more surprising, the Grounded Dutchman organised all this...

The parents also came over for the weekend. Took Mum and Graham to beer club on Friday night, which was a bit surreal. Thankfully, the guys at work will talk to anybody and the parent didn't disgrace themselves too much. They did call me Pandy in public - but all I can do is cringe and move on from it. They've been calling me Pandy for 42 years - they can't help it. This was followed by far too much food at some great restaurants.

Looking at the world through my parent's eyes is strange. We were walking down Little Bourke Street, the centre of Chinatown,  when my step dad pipes up, "Gee, there are so many Asians around here". Part of me wants to crawl under a rock. Then again, I know my parents aren't intrinsically racist - they are very accepting of all cultures and have travelled to many places over the years. It's just they live in Myponga, South Australia. If you're of Italian or Greek descent you're a bit exotic. They're not used to the city and it's wonderful ethnic blends. I let it go. Where they see lots of Asian people, I just see people. It's all a matter of perspective.

We also had dinner with Alice, Dougall and Jasper, as well as Blarney and Barney on Saturday - that was really cool. Went to a Turkish restaurant that Alice and I really like. That was lovely.

But the highlight of the weekend was getting my darling Toyota Echo, Andrew, bogged up to the front axles in mud down the country late in the Macedon Ranges. We went out to Kyneton for lunch, perfect, then after telling them about the great pinots and large, friendly cat at Curly Flat, we headed for Lancefield. Stepdad navigated. We came to a country lane. He assured me that this was the way - the map said so. What he took me down was barely more than a goat track. The conditions got worse and worse. What was a fairly decent dirt road became narrower and narrower. A recent storm had branches strewing the road. I wanted to turn back. Stepdad urged me on. What Stepdad forgets is that he has a car that can be put into four wheel drive. I drive a city car.

Needless to say we ended up in a large mud puddle up to the axles.

For comfort I checked my phone. Two bars and the GPS could locate us. I felt a litle relief. Then stepdad rolled up his trousers and set to work releasing the car from it's muddy hole. Half an hour later and a very, very grubby step dad we backed out of the puddle.

No pinot noir was had, no big cat was visited. But we went round to Blarney and Barney's for a cuddle of the boys.

A successful, if not slightly strange weekend.

Pand