Katherine Hayton | 2015 April
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April 2015

is finally over, and I’m pleased to announce that I have my hour back.

Because we’re currently on Easter break, I’ve also lost an hour of daylight because I’m not awake when it’s gained in the morning, but I’m well awake when it disappeared early this evening.

To celebrate this occurrence there was also a blood moon last night, which I was glad to see was not visible in Christchurch and therefore didn’t require me to try and fail to stay awake to see. A glorious thing by all accounts by people who were located on the West Coast, and had access to a telescope.

Apparently the next month is the most dangerous time for folks medically speaking. The hour the clocks were put forward back in September may have averted a few dozen heart attacks, but that bill is about to come due.

I do wonder if all the deaths we’ll see over the next month or so due to circadian disruption – not that it’ll be the reason going on their death certificate – would be saved if one year we just went on daylight savings, and then never went off it.

Sure, the very nature of time itself would become a joke a few years down the track, but in the age of the internet I’m sure it doesn’t matter too much that offices open during daylight hours and close during the dark. Teenagers would hate it, but since that’s their raison d’ĂȘtre it may even please them in some backhanded way.

Alternatively, it’s possible that I’ve been the victim of two-sided propaganda and no one is affected too much one way or the other. As the least exciting explanation it’s probably best I left that to the end.

And now, I’m an hour late going to bed so if you’ll excuse me…

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04 Apr / Old

I don’t feel very different than I did a decade ago.

Sure, my bones ache a bit more. Some of my joints have the broken glass addition of arthritis to them. My ankles have started to swell in warm weather.

I’ve also developed a special type of grunt for sitting down, and a much longer one for standing up again.

But I still didn’t think I was that much different to the younger generation of people that I’m surrounded with at work.

Until a discussion about a visiting rock star began.

To be more exact, began with the word ‘Who?’

Now, I accept that every generation has its own music, but there are still some names that should echo across the divide.

When someone mentions the Beatles and the Stones I don’t shake my head in confusion.

And likewise I expect everybody to know who Billy Idol is.

How dare this young generation of people grow up without listening to White Wedding or Rebel Yell? How did they survive their teen years without Dancing with Myself? What other version of Mony Mony could they possibly prefer?

I could almost accept that someone may haved missed out on the musical genius that created Hot in the City, but then I discovered somebody in our office who didn’t know who Baldrick was.

I’ve obviously fallen through some strange time-warp and ended up in the wrong dimension. Or, grown old.

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03 Apr / Easter silence

Today was Good Friday, and it was mainly good because we get Friday off from work.

Unfortunately, viruses haven’t availed themselves of the timetable for public holidays in New Zealand, and my companions have decided to continue working full speed ahead.

For the past couple of days I’ve had a lovely croak to my voice. It made me sound like a blues singer who’d been hanging out in smoky bars. But without the benefit of being able to sing, and ignoring the fact that no bar is allowed to be smoky anymore.

Today, however, my voice went way past sexy without passing go and without collecting two hundred dollars.

Laryngitis you are not my friend.

Each time I come up with a witty comment, or a passing opinion, I need to repeat it so many times before it’s heard that all the cleverness is sapped away by exasperation.

Last year when I had laryngitis at work I made up a handy sign that said ‘I have laryngitis, please don’t make fun of me.’ In case anyone still tried I’d written on the back ‘Or I’ll kick you arse.’

If I’m still having the same amount of trouble expressing myself tomorrow I may need to recreate this, or come up with a new interpretation. Something that will hammer home to my darling how much he’s not funny when he’s sitting there with a smirk on his beautiful face pretending not to understand.

You just wait, sweetie. You’ll get yours. Tonight I’m going to wait until you’re asleep, and I’m gonna cough all over you.

Because sometimes you don’t need spoken words to express how you feel.

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Today we held a meeting for our leadership team. After my tirade on meetings not so long before, I’m sure you already know my opinion about the usefulness of these things, but this one was slightly different.

First of all, it was offsite so we couldn’t leave and go back to our day job. Second, it was held at a restaurant which gave it a certain appeal.

This is how corporations suck you into attending off-site meetings. They make them sound more attractive than they actually are.

I arrived slightly ahead of time, which gave me a nice fifteen minutes alone in the room to the side of the main restaurant. I could’ve used this time to brush up on the facts and figures provided to me the day before by my manager, but I thought the time would be better spend rescuing pets. I stand by this decision.

When everyone arrived we got the meeting underway. The first thing we tried to do was close the door between the side meeting room that we’d booked for the day, and the main restaurant. It’s a popular restaurant so it’s fairly loud. It seemed a reasonable request.

We couldn’t close the door. Apparently some workman had been in the day before to fix it, and misunderstood what “fixed” meant.

All our state secrets were being spilled in that room. We resorted to using post-it notes and whispering very quietly.

We couldn’t hear each other, or read each others’ writing, so if the future of our department ends up heading in a slightly wonky direction I’m afraid you’ll have to blame it on the restaurant. Not the leadership team.

And in a completely different direction, check out the great daily deals on Buck Books.

Tomorrow my debut novel Found, Near Water will be featured for only 99c.

If you enter your email address on the site you can have all their new deals sent directly to your inbox each day, and never pay more than a buck for a book again.

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