Enough change already

These last few months have seen, and continue to see, plenty of change on a personal level. And I think I've had enough for now thankyouverymuch.

Just before Christmas I got signed-off from my probationary period. I'm a proper-copper now. Therefore I'm harder to fire if things go, well, a little Pete-Tong. After some wobbles through last year on the training side (many issues not my fault either), I managed to stabilise things and set out on a consistent six-month run making a good name and reliable reputation for myself.

So much so then, that when candidates were being considered this week to move to other shifts to bolster their experience and strength, my name was considered a front-runner.

Woah there, that's got to be zero to hero in record time surely?

I was under the impression that the move was a done deal, however I was invited to plead my case to the powers-that-be.

See, I didn't want to go.

Flattering though the 'candidacy' was; I work on a great shift, with good colleagues. There's a real team atmosphere on our shift. When the shit goes down we all pull together. That's not to say that other shifts don't, but the last thing I really needed right now would have been to be up heaved elsewhere having to establish myself at work all over again.

Thankfully then, the powers-that-be reconsidered and I'm staying put.

I spilt from a two year relationship just before Christmas.

I move house in less than a month.

That's quite enough change thanks.

Words

"We cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribes shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself..."

Spot-on, Mr President.

10 things I'll miss, when I move

1. The Battle of Britain Memorial Flight regularly flying over the house
2. A 24-hour Tesco, a mere five minutes down the road (perfect for us shift-workers)
3. Items in the kitchen staying remarkably fresh beyond their sell-by date (the kitchen really is that cold, it's like a walk-in fridge)
4. Living at the edge of a large tract of woodland
5. The wildlife
6. Having a garden
7. Being a mere 90-minutes from friends & family in Yorkshire (though I recently discovered it can be done in 75...)
8. Genuinely friendly neighbours
9. The anonymity of living over 25 miles away from where I patrol
10. The frankly excellent local 'Chippy

Midnight Madness

Rather apt considering last nights' partying I thought....

Happy New Year world!

Let's make it a good one.

Let's at least try, eh?

Change

It being the end of the year it's time to do the cliched looking-back-thing, however I find myself for the most keenly looking forward.

I'm not saying 2009 is heralding the start of a personal revolution by any means, it's just that I am certain that the new year will being change on a number of levels.

Firstly, I've decided to move.

I moved to my present location primarily because it was geographically central to all the various locations my training and subsequent police station posting. Since I made the jump down here and managed to get myself successfully signed-off as a 'proper copper'- I now find myself living a little out on a limb. Though it was convenient and central for training, now that I've settled into the routine of policing a rural market town, I am tiring of the 50-mile round trip to work and back, the time wasted on a very dull- A-class road and the petrol burned.

Socially, those who live over this way all have families and don't tend to go out that much. Most of the friends and colleagues I've made down here are clustered near where I work. Therefore if my colleagues are going out for a social, it's a real pain to organise transport or places to stay, even for a simple few drinks after a shift. It gets a bit lonely at times.

So sometime soon, possibly even in the next few months, I'll swap this rural market town for another.

Change has come on a personal level too. You don't have to be Sherlock to figure out the identity of the girlfriend and probably have heard by now that we've sadly split up. It's nothing for me to discuss at length here, I have far to much respect for her to do that, however I am probably blessed with the most amicable break-up that one could wish for. I've gained a close and precious friend for the rest of my life; that much is certain.

At work I've learned that I'm getting a new line-manager / Sargent in January which has come to a bit of a shock to all of us on shift. Looking at the rest of the shifts at the station we're probably the closest-knit and I feel like I'm losing a mentor who shepherded me though some really tough times at work. It's another loss that I'm taking quite personally.

Change on a number of levels then.

Perhaps my life needs shaking up a little.

As the great prophet Sheryl Crow once wrote:

"A change, will do you good."

Give me a break

The portfolio is handed in.

I’m mere days from being confirmed in rank.

It’s a relief on the one hand; free from the self-induced stigma of the extension, and the oh-so-welcome pay rise.

You’re the first group to gain the NVQ qualification gushed the training staff back in the mists of time when we commenced out training.

Wonderful. I’ve yet to meet any fellow candidate who was particularly thrilled at gaining the qualification, or more importantly ever wanted it in the first place.

An NVQ level four equals something like a foundation degree so I’m told. Another line on the CV should I ever change jobs. But what does an NVQ in policing qualify me for exactly?

Whatever. I don’t care anymore.

Just bring on the pay rise.

Work are cracking down more than ever on using the internet at work; outside of work any murmurings on Facebook and the like trickle back to the station at lightening speed.

The higher-ups increasingly seem to deny we have life other than what is spelt out in PACE.

Seems the public couldn’t care if we get a break either.

Recently I was in a supermarket on my patch. Granted I was on uniformed duty, but I was tired. Hungry.

I parked my patrol car outside and strode into the store to get some refreshments.

Immediately eyebrows were raised as soon as the customers got a glimpse of my uniform. I could almost hear the whispers: Ooo, where’s the shoplifter then?

None here today.

I meander around the aisles and then dutifully I queue up with my coke, sandwich and Kit-Kat. I grab a copy of The Guardian to read in the evening at home.

A couple of twenty-somethings shift impatiently behind me.

What he doing in here? Hasn’t he got time to be out on the streets? One says under their breath to the other.

I turn my head to look at them and bring myself up to my full 6’3” stature.

What I did say, casually:

Sorry, did one of you say something to me?

No, no… They fluster.

I turn back towards the checkout and hear a nervous giggle behind me.

I continue queuing and stride purposefully back out the store.

Mercilessly the radio remains quiet still.

What I should have said:

You try working eleven fucking hours without a break.

Wassup 2008

True... True...

Close, but...

Barring any major catastophies I'm now led to believe that I should be 'signed off' within the coming month.


Just a few more lines of bullshit on my learning portfolio then a whole host of signatures and that should be it over and done with.


I don't know if I'll ever get the portfolio back into my custody, but I've already realised it'd make a pretty good draft-excluder...


So by 'signed off' I mean - confirmed in rank, and job, as a constable.


Those of you who have followed my story, somewhat muted as it is these days, will note that I haven't had the easiest route to this destination.


Though faults may have been my own, and those of others, my goal is within sight.

Now the question rears its head "What next?"

Thirty-one years later

So yesterday I celebrated my thirty-first birthday. Another year older, another year wiser, they say. However, I cannot say I’ve felt particularly different at all for the last five or six birthdays now. My mind is firmly entrenched in my twenties and refuses to move.

I celebrated it down in Norwich with girlfriend & her lad; a nice yummy meal out at Wagamma’s, some thoughtful and quite original presents, a few cards. All -in-all how I like to celebrate birthdays really. Though I’m happy to attend big parties I generally don’t like to be the host or subject of one.

Birthdays are always a good time to stop and take stock. So where do I find myself?

Unmarried, but in the second year of a stable relationship.

‘Plodding’ away in a good job, however one that I’m still trying to figure out.

Not owning my own home, but quite happily renting one in these turbulent economic times.
With few savings, but comparatively little debt.

In close and stable contact with most of my friends and family, yet surprisingly lonesome all-to-often.

Having travelled to 23 countries, yet wishing to travel to many more.

However much things depress me, frustrate me, annoy me and perplex me at times. I sit back and consider… Well, things, could be a lot worse…

The day I almost killed my girlfriend

...If I remember correctly, was August 25th, this year.

This was several weeks ago now, whilst holidaying in The Lake District.

Having spent our first day exploring the park, and enjoying a rare break in the otherwise abysmal weather, I sat in the car in Ambleside regarding the map with a furrowed brow.

Ambleside, is the main centre of tourist activity and commerce in the 'Lakes. It was early evening, the sun was beginning to dip behind the peaks, and we were some thirty miles away from our hostel where we would be spending the next few nights.

“There are two routes” I mused aloud, studying the road atlas “We can go the long way round, via the A593 and A595. Or...”

Then I paused momentarily as I traced a small unclassified road that took a more direct route, snaking through the centre of the park.

“...There’s this road here, there’s only one gradient chevron indicated in the atlas, and what’s more with the clear weather it should be pretty stunning scenery.”

“Ok, if you’re sure.” said girlfriend, perhaps more out of tiredness from a long day then perhaps genuine confidence in route planning skills “But it’ll be getting dark soon.”

“Oh we’ll be alright,” I reassured her, and her lad sat in the back of my car, “Trust me.”

“Riiiiight.” Said Girlfriend – her alarm bells already beginning to ring. She stifled a yawn, nervously.

I put the vehicle in gear and turned the car towards Langdale, blissfully unaware.

The first twenty minutes or so proved to be a tranquil drive along narrow country roads, hemmed in either side by dry stone walls. The road hugged the valley floor and for all intents and purposes we could have been driving one of Postman Pat’s gently meandering rounds if only we’d hummed along with the tune.

Then the road began to climb, gently at first, but then gathering altitude in earnest. The valley floor was suddenly hundreds of feet below us. Girlfriend shifted uncomfortably in her seat….

Then she froze as we passed this sign.

“It’s too late to turn back now, we’re losing the light.” I decided, besides I didn't get a chance to properly read the sign.

I was more worried about the fact that twilight had come all too quickly.

Girlfriend meanwhile, reminded me calmly and firmly how much she really did not like heights in the slightest. Not one bit.

See, maths has never been my strongpoint, at least not when I’m focusing on driving anyway.

That’s why I was never any good at calculating stopping distances. Another thing not to tell the Girlfriend I thought. So perhaps that’s why the full impact of 1:3 only really hit me when the valley floor really was hundreds and hundreds of feet bellow now, as we negotiated switchback after switchback.

The car slowed more and more as we climbed. This was going to take a while.

I’d met a few vehicles oncoming, lower down the valley, and they were tricky enough to negotiate a passing point. Stopping on this gradient would be the hill start from hell. In fact there wasn’t a chance to stop; there was nowhere to pull in. It was a case of attacking one bend after the other.

10mph, when you’re halfway up a mountainside, feels like 50.

I’d dropped down even into first gear at this point, and the engine was starting to sound like a norse god of thunder with severe Asthma.

I tried to put it into second gear.

The 1.6l engine gave an almighty sigh and began to shudder like it was choking.

Nope, that wasn’t going to work. First gear it would have to be then. For minutes on end.

This was not quite how it appeared on the map.

When we reached the head of the pass, before it dropped down into the next valley – I ventured to ask Girlfriend how she was feeling.

She didn’t reply.

I rebounded the question towards Boyo in the back.

“Yeah, cool!” he replied cheerfully, an answer which buoyed my confidence somewhat. He was clearly enjoying the views, whilst I couldn't afford to take my eyes of the slender ribbon of tamac ahead of me.

At least someone’s got faith in my driving skills I thought because I’m not so sure I can do this...

“Are you okay?” I tried to asked Girlfriend again.

“Mmmm.” Came a muffled reply from the passenger seat.

“What, sorry?”

“Just concentrate ok?!” Girlfriend shot back. I glanced at her – gripping the upholstery like she was sliding out of it towards certain doom - and then back at the road again. Ahead, I could see that we were gathering speed into another set of devilish switchbacks, this time to be tackled going downhill.

Girlfriend seemed to be listening to every whine and hum of the engine.

“I think your gearbox has gone.” She offered.

“Oh, thanks hon.”

Thankfully it hadn’t, but the strain was obvious on the car.

As we descended into the next valley I prised my nails out of the sterring wheel and began to relax a little.

“I think we’re past the worst of it, y’know.”

A mile or two later, the road began to climb once more.

Oh the penny dropped I forgot about the other pass.

And that, dear reader, is where I think in her mind at least, Girlfriend almost killed me.

Her first words upon descending into the relative of Eskdale?

“You owe me a double, of whatever alcoholic drink I choose.”