Two weekends, two barbecues.

Steve and I drove down to Tunbridge Wells to see Portia and Rob. Portia is Steve's ex-girlfriend from ages ago, and Rob is her husband. It was Rob's birthday. Following so far? Jolly good. A bunch of us were camping in their garden Friday and Saturday nights, with a big drunken barbecue planned for Saturday.

As it happens, Friday night was quite a late one, and Saturday far more leisurely. A really nice weekend, with gorgeous weather, lovely food and fantastic company. If Ryan's barbecue felt like stepping into someone else's life, Portia and Rob's felt like stepping into my own childhood. Badminton and croquet kept springing up throughout the afternoon, interspersed with mildly random football and cricket. I didn't join in, as I would have felt a bit self-conscious, but it was a lot like the family picnics we used to have, all terribly civilised.

As it got colder, Rob's dad took charge of the chiminea (sparking several minutes of debate over pronunciation) and started delicately wrenching trees out of the woods at the bottom of the garden for fuel. Nice to have the option, really. I went to bed early, having reached the point where I couldn't eat any more juicy burgers or sausages, and didn't want to make a concerted effort to drink and keep the cold out. A snuggly sleeping bag seemed like the better option.

Pics nicked from Steve because I didn't take any:
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› (but he's not gay and Little Britain spell it wrong anyway)
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Tangent: I know I haven't been taking many pictures recently. I am lazy. I usually have my camera with me, but don't really want to annoy my friends or alienate people I've just met. But mainly it's down to laziness. I promise more pics in future to go with all the waffling. Incidentally, this is quite a waffly babble. Please address any problems to complaintsdepartment@gemstuff.co.uk.

We timed Sunday's journey home to coincide with the England match, and found the roads quite clear. We had stopped at Oxford services when they scored; it managed to get a cheer from the disparate crowd, who would usually have been wrapped up in their own worlds, often apropos the toilet facilities. Quite surreal.

It would have been better for both of us if Ecuador had scored, because we each have one of their players in the fantasy football league Steve runs with Danny.

I did quite badly in the main one, which is nothing to be ashamed of really, considering my infinitesimal knowledge of football. But when that started last summer, I had a bet with Steve that I'd beat him (not that laughable, there were times when I was doing better), and the loser had to buy a pint and a takeaway for the winner. At the time it meant a guaranteed two "dates"... or one social outing and one evening in, at least. This was a big deal because he wasn't my boyfriend then.

So now he is, and we both have teams in the World Cup fantasy football thing. So the stakes are higher. A European citybreak if I win, a trip to Amsterdam if he wins. Paid for by the loser. Only thing is, he won't let me use my credit card, so he might have to wait a while for the prize if he wins. To see how it's going, here's the link. I only have to beat one of his teams. I reckon it's not impossible.

Went out on Friday, got quite drunk. Was fun. It was for Julia's leaving do, as she's actually managed to escape, and now faces a daily commute to Chester.

Then housewarming was on Saturday, which was quite scary. Not the housewarming itself, but the format of it... a number of people in work received an email a while back inviting us. Andrea and Aidan. Caroline and Rob. Phil and Rachel. Me and Steve. Most had something in common - married with a toddler. Me and Steve being the obvious exception, but still seemingly classed as an Office Couple. And to the casual observer we would still fit the pattern, so we must have scraped through the selection process.

The barbecue was nice. Warm weather, kids running around playing, the men standing round the barbecue, the women sitting round in the garden. Apart from feeling like I'd stepped into someone else's life for a minute, it was very pleasant. The food was gorgeous. We walked home, because the bus wasn't for ages. It's only a couple of miles, but there's a big hill in between, and we took it in turns to carry Euan. That was this year's exercise.

Sunday, unsurprisingly, was mostly spent sleeping.

Managed to humiliate myself last night. Mum was in Cardiff, on training. I was cooking tea, and Euan was doing his trick of getting under my feet and pestering, which is usually fine, but I didn't want a scalded sprog, so I phoned Mum to ask her to talk to him for a minute, just to keep him occupied.

I didn't know whether she'd be in her hotel room, or maybe out eating with the others from our office. When she answered, I could hear hysterical laughter in the background so I assumed she was out. She was still happy to talk to Euan for me.

But not before she'd explained that the laughter was at my expense.

A while ago, when Mum got her new phone, Dan and I recorded a special ringtone for her. It's set to ring when my home or mobile phones her, or Dan's mobile. It goes something along the lines of, "Hello... It's your children... We probably want money... Or babysitting..." with me and Dan taking turns to speak in daft voices.

Of course, I'd completely forgotten about it.

It wouldn't be so bad if it was just random people who'd heard it, but I work with the same people as Mum. They're back tomorrow. Oh dear.

This week, I have been mostly doing... nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Had a very lazy weekend. Which was nice.

Been in training this week. No exciting hotel stays like last time though, they've brought this course to us. One of the trainers (sorry, Learning Specialists) is Michelle, who trained me in Peterborough when I first started on Receivables (sorry... Debt Management - I think, last time I checked. Probably until at least the end of the week, anyway) and who also delivered the County Court course in April.

She's fun. I like her. She manages to achieve the near-impossible, and make tax interesting. It's strange though, because I like training courses - yes, I am the irritating smartarse answering things, contributing thoughts and asking pertinent questions - but in my own office I don't really click with any of the team. They're all pleasant enough, but I'm always nervous and edgy around them.

So a training course with my colleagues is strange. Either I'm the quiet one sitting in the corner sipping my tea whilst everyone else is chatting, or I manage to forget who's in the room and go into teacher's pet mode.

Does Michelle wonder why I'm so isolated from my colleagues when on training courses I've always been sociable and joined in with the banter? Do my colleagues wonder what's got into me when I suddenly seem more confident?

Or, and here's the most likely option, does no-one particularly notice or care about the change of character?

It's only a job.

Oh, and for anyone who read the babblings from a month or so back, yes things have improved thank you. I don't feel sick at the thought of going into the office, I have a certain amount of work I can potter through without hassling anyone, and I am now resigned to the fact that my pay is significantly lower than it would have been without the promotion. Does it really matter? Can I still afford to eat? Yes. Well then. Get a grip. Once I start worrying about my wage, I might start trying to increase it, and then I become a slave to it.

A supplemental Babble on the subject of office dynamics. Or more specifically, how I think I'm perceived.

Names have been omitted because several people from my office read this!

So. Observation number one.
To some people, I will always be "Jan's daughter".
Fair enough. People have little maps in their heads of where people fit into social structures, and family links are a major part of that. People also don't like changing their opinions, because it takes effort and confuses them. I can cope with that.

Observation two.
Only bad news travels.
Everyone knew within minutes when I split up with Karl. (Except one person I told last month. They were about eighteen months behind on gossip, apparently.)
Hardly anyone knows I've been promoted.
One of my old managers phoned our team today, started asking a question, then paused and said, "Don't you want to pass the call on to someone?"
This particular manager is one of those bustling ladies who seem to have a position of authority only because they remind people of their mums. Theory© Gem 2006. I've noticed several of them (stereotyping, moi?) and what they lack in intelligence they make up for in bossiness and sharp put-downs.
Needless to say, I didn't pass on the call. In fact, I rather spitefully made sure I asked her some technical questions back that she didn't understand. Then I felt better.

Observation three.
People will try to validate the assumptions in their head, against all evidence.
Some people on my team were discussing the latest conquest of one of the girls. The conversation veered, as it often does, to smuttier issues (I can tell you how every woman on my team deals with her pubic hair), and someone asked her, "Did you ever hear from that one whose name you got wrong?" Further discussion on this point ensued, until the lady who was sitting nearby to evaluate one of us on telephone technique said, "Aw Gemma, you're too young to be sitting by this lot, they'll corrupt you."
I looked up from my work, somewhat surprised, and mumbled my agreement.
Then the shock hit me.
The implication that I can be corrupted. Me. I can think of a few people who read this who will by now be sniggering at their screen.
My instinct was to put her right. A thousand anecdotes jumped into my head. None were really suitable for the ears of my work colleagues. A snappy retort perhaps, like, "She only forgot his name? At least she remembered what they'd got up to." Or maybe, "You're talking to the girl who went to her best friend's wedding, booked a room in between the reception and evening do, and disappeared for a few hours. I had to go to breakfast in the night before's clothes."
What would that achieve though? Hooray, you've just proven to your colleagues that your morals are somewhat adrift from the current social consensus. Congratulations.
Far better to keep quiet. And after I'd settled down, the first half of the comment registered: "...you're too young..."
Yay. Nearly twenty-five, with a three year-old son and an attitude problem, and I can still be perceived as sweet and innocent.

Bargain.

I've had another one of those weeks where I'm really pro-active and motivated and stuff. Amongst other financial tweakings, I have saved £10 a month on my t'internet, and realised that I was still paying joint life insurance as well as my own. Duh.

(My bank will soon be receiving a letter asking politely why, since the original joint mortgage and life insurance were with them, and all I did was take on a bigger mortgage and individual life insurance, the ever-so-personal mortgage advisor didn't suggest cancelling the unnecessary frigging policy? And also, when I go to my internet banking thingy, and phone the number to say "What's this £25 for?" can they not recognise their own frigging reference number, for HSBC Life UK going out of a HSBC bank account? And thirdly - since I presumably have their undivided attention at this point - can I have my money back please?)

So yeah. Taking responsibility and stuff. Not that difficult, as it turns out.

That was all on Saturday morning. I haven't listened to so much classical music for years... this month's phone bill will show me how long I was on hold for in total. Then Saturday afternoon, with Euan in tow, I met Dan in town. Got a haircut, bought some stuff, got my navel re-pierced.

This is yet another thing I've been meaning to get round to for... three years or so. So far, so good. It hides the original scar nicely, and doesn't hurt.

Other than that, no big news. I've got a cold. Erm. So my nose is getting sore. Erm.

I'm also writing a letter to both of my banks asking them for details for all the charges they've made against me, ever. Because they're illegal. They have 40 days to reply. If not I can take them to court - and since filling in court claim forms is what I do every day in work, that bit's not at all scary. Apparently the banks don't like this trend for people to realise that they can get their money back, so they're quickly trying to close it up. We'll see if I missed the boat.

Oh, and lots of people mentioned that it was the 6/6/06 yesterday. Nothing very portentous happened. It was Kerrie's 30th birthday, so Steve took me & Euan for a very nice birthday tea with her family.

Isn't 666 meant to be when the Antichrist is born? Not when the world ends or anything. And technically it should have been 6AD not 2006AD - and therefore not a very remarkable date, because the BC/AD system certainly wasn't in place back then.

People like pretty numbers. We're pattern-spotters.

Had a couple of nights away with Steve last weekend - stayed in the rather gorgeous .

It's just outside Cardiff, and the view down to Cardiff Bay was lovely, as demonstrated by my ... Although when we arrived it was shrouded in fog. Proper fluffy thick white fog. Spooky.

After two nights of indulgence, we picked Euan up, meeting Karl, Jane, and her kids by the station. Euan came running over to give me a huge hug, which was nice. I'd missed him.

Got home and started unpacking - and finally finished the tidying-up from the previous week's party! Dan came round, bringing Tom with him as he was staying at Mum's, and we scoffed pizzas. Oh, and Mum popped in. It was quite busy. I need a bigger sofa.

Euan loved the attention, but was more interested in Steve's ...

We'd both taken the Tuesday off work, to make it a four-day weekend, so we stayed in bed all day. I ignored the phone when it rang at around 3pm, reasoning that I'm never usually there, so anyone who knows me would try the mobile if they wanted to get in touch. I really should have answered.

Ten minutes later Mum walked through the door - she was at work, doing calls in the area, and needed to use the loo and stop for a cuppa. When she saw I was in my dressing gown and asked if Steve was here too, her face fell and she said, "Oh - sorry!"

I think that was worse than if she hadn't realised.

She didn't stop for a cuppa.