Haunted by the past

Despite it now being over 12 years since I stopped working there (and indeed at least four now since they chucked Joan out as well), I am still having recurring dreams about going back to work at Argos. These nearly always feature the Felixstowe or Newmarket branches, which are the two where I had the happier moments of that part of my career, rather than say Ipswich or Stowmarket where things were not so rosy. I guess that must be significant one way or another but I'm not sure I want to delve too deply to find out more.

Of course, dreams being what they are, the representations of the stock rooms I used to manage tend to have unexpected extensions, increased floor space or indeed whole other floors attached which would have been very useful when I was trying to squeeze new product lines in each catalogue changeover. And in every case the dream narrative always makes it clear that I am going back to do them a favour/sort out a mess that people after me have made and that whatever crap I suffered in the past won't happen again.

Now I know I left there because my final manager ground me into a quivering wreck, and I guess this is an element of my subconcious trying to make it up to me, but really. Who wants to dream about work at all? Surely I should be flying, or slaying dragons, or living it up or soemthing exciting at night. Not stacking boxes, emptying pallets and counting stock.

Bum, bum, bum and bum. Don't you justhate when you press cut rather than copy and then when Photo Editor arses up the file you are trying to manipulate you haven't got the original anymore? Or is it just me? Oh well.

More hot and happening dreams last night. One where Joan was coming to work with me, and we were also bringing the cats. Although it was nice to have Barney back from the dead it did kind of tip me off that the whole thing was not real. Then another one later on where I was in a record shop in Derby (but located where I know there used to be a launderette) seeking out some strange and rare cds (and indeed vinyl) while under pressure from some strange young black lad wanting to stick a knife in me if I bought the wrong things. After making the purchase I then took him in to town to the Industrial Museum, which was in the middle of being re-vamped to include modern art as well. So strange sculptures and the like in the middle of displays of jet engines and old cranes. I never will understand my head.

Still, I've made it here in to the office despite the best efforts of Suffolk Coastal District Council to keep me away - got stuck behind a Dustcart while dropping Joan off at work and then further hindered by both a recycling collection wagon and a roadsweeper before getting out of Felixstowe. Must be some kind of conspiracy to keep my hours down. And on arrival have found my new holiday card at last. And only 4 extra days added rather than the five I was expecting (despite Charles getting the full five for starting a week before me but then being off for 7 weeks straight away). Grrrr.