Parcel Delivery

It seemed like a good idea at the time. The newly appointed Mrs Smith – it’s been nearly two months since we got wed - saw a few things we needed for the house and decided to make the purchases on-line. I’m not one for trailing around the shops, as the new Mrs Smith is beginning to discover, so I encouraged her plan to purchase the goods via t’internet and arranged for a suitable delivery date. As I say, it seemed like a good idea at the time…

My good lady ordered a microwave oven, kettle, toaster, pedal bin, toilet roll holder and electric toothbrush (they were out of cuddly toys) Just as she completed the order Bruce Forsyth appeared with his glamorous assistant and checked the scores on the doors (it’s a Generation thing, younger readers – ask your parents)

Order complete, a delivery date was arranged for Thursday. So far, so good.

Now we may live in an age of instant communication with the aforementioned internet, mobile phones and ‘smart’ technology. We can transfer money between bank accounts in seconds and instantly converse with someone on the other side of the world through wonderful inventions such as Skype. However, there remain tasks which have yet to catch up with technology – and arranging a parcel delivery where everything goes to plan appears to be one of them.

The date was agreed – but the time of delivery couldn’t be arranged. All we could get from one of the country’s leading retail stores was ‘we’ll deliver between 7.00am and 8.00pm’. Really? You can’t be more specific? Not even indicate if delivery will be in the morning or afternoon? ‘No, sorry, all our delivery vans are packed up first thing in the morning and are out all day’.

Hmm. So taking a half day off work won’t help – it will need to be a full day. And you’ll need to have an understanding boss (you want time off for what?! Don’t you know we have a deadline to meet for that report I asked you for?!)

So it was that I arose from my slumber, bleary-eyed, ready for the remote chance the delivery would be bang on 7.00am. As we say in Scotland when two positives go together to form a negative – aye, right.

In the interests of fairness, I should point out here that the delivery of our goods happened at 12.10pm. Ah, so only half the day gone then. The delivery chap, somewhat lacking in customer service skills, handed over three items – two boxes and a black bag.

‘Is that all six items?’ I asked, curiously.

‘No idea, pal’ came the reply. ‘I was just told to deliver three parcels to this address. Are you Mrs Smith?’

‘Do I look like Mrs Smith?’ I asked, not expecting an answer but getting one anyway.

‘No really. Well you’ll need to sign here’ he replied before thrusting a digital contraption into my hand. I signed and he disappeared into the afternoon.

On unwrapping the delivered goods it soon became apparent there was an item missing. The electric toothbrush. With an air of inevitability, I phoned the shop – sorry, retail outlet - which, after a ten minute delay ‘queuing’ to talk to a customer sales agent, brought the following conversation.

‘Have you got an order number?’

‘Yes’ and I reeled off a long code.

‘Hang on, I’ll check on my computer.’ No words were spoken for a few moments, the only sound I could hear was the tapping of a keyboard.

‘Ah, I can see what’s happened’ said the agent with a Lancashire accent (I got enough of these at work…) ‘Your item has been sent to Wales’

‘Really?’ I asked with rising incredulity. ‘Any reason why, given I live in Edinburgh?’

‘Dunno’ she replied. ‘What I’ll do for you is I’ll contact the depot and arrange for another item to be delivered’

‘I’m grateful, I’m sure’ I said. ‘Will this be this afternoon?’ I asked far too optimistically.

‘Oh no’ came the reply, ‘we’ll phone you sometime next week when it’s ready to be despatched’

‘Next week? No, no, no. Can’t you deliver it to one of the Edinburgh shops? I could collect it from there’

‘Hang on, I’ll just check. Which shop would you like it delivered to?’

‘Well the one in central Edinburgh is the one which is less of an inconvenience’

Silence.

‘Hello?’ I asked with a growing feeling of despair. ‘Are you still there?’

‘Yeah, I’m just checking. You can collect it from our central Edinburgh store after 4.00pm’

‘Grand. I’ll go round later this afternoon’

‘Oh no, not today – Monday’

By now, my irritation level was approaching red for danger but I accepted Monday afternoon and left it at that. Until Mrs Smith arrived home and advised she had received a text message from said retailer confirming that, due to unforeseen circumstances, they were unable to deliver the goods ordered.

But they’ll deliver it on Friday.

Sometimes I ask myself why life is so difficult….

Easter 2015

A Change of Career

So farewell, then, the daily grind and the never-ending battle to survive. On Thursday I left my job as a Human Resources Officer to embark on a new, different and certainly exciting career. For I am training to become a hypnotherapist and counsellor. The course, which runs for three years in total, is run by Chrysalis who specialise in training people wishing to become hypnotherapists and counsellors.

Having spent more than seven years at my place of work, the time is right for me to move on. The daily grind, the daily battle against bureaucracy and the constant frustration has taken its toll. If you no longer enjoy what you’re doing then it’s time to do something about it. The same applies to life in general – if something isn’t working then you have to fix it.

When I finish my training my new career promises much. I started at Queen Margaret University just outside Edinburgh last November and the coursework is challenging but exciting and gives me a sense of achievement even at this relatively early stage in the three year course. With a lot of hard work and a bit of luck I hope to fully qualify as a hypnotherapist by the end of this year. Then, with even more hard work and quite a lot of luck, I aim to be running my own practice this time next year while spending a further two years training to be a counsellor.

I’ve had a lot of support from people I didn’t really expect and for this I am really appreciative. Of course, being Scotland, I’ve had a few cheeky comments including one from my former Managing Director who asked if I had put the Cowdenbeath defence under a trance when they recently lost 10-0 to the mighty Heart of Midlothian; at least two other people thought I had been in a trance for years and one person thought I had left months ago…thanks, folks.

My immediate aim is to catch up on my studies which have lapsed slightly due to recent events (getting married, Hearts winning the Championship, the price of alcohol coming down…) I shall be spending the next few weeks getting up to speed, as it were. At least I can now fully concentrate on doing this.

I know some people have questioned my sanity to give up my full-time job, especially having recently got married for the second time. But the change to my personal circumstances in recent years means I can afford to take this chance. I am wholly determined to succeed and make a success of my new career. The bigger risk would have been to remain unhappy in a high-pressure job and run the very real possibility of it affecting my health.

In the hugely successful BBC television comedy Only Fools and Horses, the main character Derek ‘Del Boy’ Trotter used to say ‘this time next year we’ll be millionaires’. This time next year I won’t be a millionaire (unless I win the lottery) but I do intend to be in control of my professional life and doing something worthwhile which will make a huge positive difference to people’s lives.

And, crucially, doing something I know I’m going to love.

2015 has already been a great year for the Auld Reekie Ranter. I just know, professionally, it’s going to get even better.

International Day of Happiness

Well, stone me....

Hilda Ogden & The Google Search

The other day I was contemplating writing an article for my column in the Hearts Matchday Programme about Scottish football in the 1970s. For an accompanying image, I thought I would try and search for a photograph on the old tin’ternet. The best web search engine - so I've been told - is Google so I typed the words 'Scottish football in the 1970s' and clicked on the image icon on my computer toolbar. I waited for hundreds of images of Scottish footballing icons of four and decades and more ago - but some of the results which flashed on to the screen were rather perplexing.

In no particular order, alongside the likes of Graeme Souness, Kenny Dalglish and Denis Law were:

Alf Ramsay - that Scottish football icon

Gordon Brown (a long haired Brown from the early 1970s)

Jimmy Reid, former Trade Union leader

Daybreak presenter Lorraine Kelly (so my wife tells me)

Bart Simpson in a Rangers top

German legends Franz Beckenbauer and Gerd Muller

A team photograph of Elgin City - from 1936

Richard Branson in a swimming costume  (honest!)

Hilda Ogden, once a character in the popular soap Coronation Street

Penelope Keith

Elliot Gould

John Cleese as Basil Fawlty

Tony Curtis (God rest his soul) and Roger Moore as television's The Persuaders and, perhaps most disturbingly of all, porn star Linda Lovelace (I had to find out who this person was - honestly, mother...)

Interestingly, alongside a photo of an Aberdeen player who was a hero of the 1970 Scottish Cup Final - Derek 'Cup-tie' Mackay - was a black and white photo of a Soviet Union nuclear warhead.

Now, I find Google a useful tool for research purposes. But when I type in the words Scottish and football I don't expect to come across Hilda Ogden and Penelope Keith. Yes, they were stars in the 1970s - but I can't recall them performing at Tynecastle (although given some of Hearts performances back then, they probably would have provided a more useful defensive partnership than the one we had in Gorgie at that time…)

It may well just be me, of course. When I typed in 'Scottish heroes' I got a photo of Clint Eastwood and Donald Sutherland - Google had ignored the Scottish bit and gone for an image from the film Kelly's Heroes.

For some mild amusement I typed my name into Google and got numerous results about Mike Smith, the late television presenter and Mike Smith, the late lead singer of The Dave Clarke Five, a popular music combo of the 1960s. Interestingly, they both also share my middle name which perhaps indicates that Google is smart after all. It didn’t come up with ‘George Clooney lookalike’ though which is rather disappointing…

Alarmingly, when I clicked on images of my name one of the photos was titled ‘alien abduction’ while another was of a middle aged bearded gentleman with a naked beer gut holding a pint of beer. And, no, it wasn’t me…

The next time I conduct a search, I think I'll try and outsmart Google by typing in the word Morrissey i.e. the ex-lead singer of The Smiths. One of his famous lyrics went 'please, please, please let me get what I want - this time...'

Kids, Eh?

Listen, son, you're going to have to accept it. If your Daddy brings you up to follow Hibernian FC, you'll always be in the shadow of the mighty Heart of Midlothian

Great-Granny - my Daddy wants me to support Hibs but my Papa says I'll have a life of misery...

No, Hannah, don't you dare steal your Papa's pizza. Oi!

Sorry Max - but you're going to put up with Ava. She's your cousin...

Happy 1st Birthday, Max

A very happy 1st birthday to my youngest grandson Max, pictured here with his proud mum and dad Michaela and Sean. It's hard to believe a year has passed since he arrived in the world six weeks early. But he's the apple of his Papa's eye.