I'm nearly famous...

Eek I'm in danger of blowing my cover if I'm not careful.  Up until now I've been a very secret Mouse.  There are only a few of you who know about me, because I just wanted to be a quiet little Mouse, but look - you can see that I'm now on a poster!  Well it's a folded book thing but it has my picture on.  And that's not all.  I had to do a project at Uni where I had to create a character.  Creating characters does not come easily to me, as I am sure you can imagine...

Anyway, a very good friend of mine called Tishy Talulah and her friend made a very funny set of comments about air conditioning and I asked her kindly if I might borrow the conversation for an art project.  Being a nice, kind person she said yes of course, and so I made a little character of her to base my folded book on.  Do you want to see her? Here she is...

So let me put you in the picture - the conversation I chose was about air conditioning in the office, and how peaceful it is when it's turned off.  The picture of me, above, is me saying to her 'I can't believe you used noise to say how much you like silence'.  Well it made me chuckle anyway.  Now when I made her, I had to take her 'on location' and photograph her and so I took her to the office with me.  Well we got up to all sorts - we had an international conference, we got coffee from the machine, we had lunch, we played about in the stationery cupboard, taking selfies, we raided the office chocolate supply and I photocopied my tail end for a laugh.  But what I didn't know is that I would then have to submit all of this for the project.  Oops.  So now, quite a few more people know that there is 'Mouse'.  One of my lecturers looked at me with raised eyebrows and said 'I'd like to know more about this 'Mouse'.'  Oh no you wouldn't - I thought - thinking guiltily of all the things I wrote about being a fresher Mouse.  I blushed from my tail to my whiskers I can tell you.

Anyway I'm fast learning that the best way to have a whole lot of fun at University is to be me, Mouse.  For the first semester (yep, they have gone all American / European on us - no such thing as terms here)I had to all sorts of ridiculous things like scribbling on clothes (I nearly got UV ink on my fur! I would have glowed in the dark for weeks!), making a bird house - a bird house! I ask you!  As if I want to catch some great big eagle!, oh - and making that gigantic poster of me that I've already written about and was so embarrassingly, mortifyingly bad, that I need a sherry just thinking about it.  Anyway now I get to do more Mouse type projects which means I get to splash a lot of colour around everywhere (except on my fur).  I do like my bright colours.  Makes me wonder if I see things differently to other mice, who don't seem to like wearing turquoise ponchos and yellow jeans at the same time.  I think they look beautiful.

My other job at the Cheese Factory is going well, the only odd thing is that they are all extraordinarily nice.  Not a Rare Beast to be seen.  I'm even managing to do the job and the course quite well together, as long as I don't need any sleep, of course.  I have to say though, it was fun taking my friend in, especially when we raided the chocolate tin.

 My next project is also a little book, but I think I'm going to have to write this one about my small boss, Edie, rather than myself, or I will have to take to wearing dark glasses and travelling incognito.

Disguisedly yours,
Mouse xx

Back to the Cheese Market...

Hello!

Well once again it's been a while, I hope you haven't missed me too much.  Truth is I've been a very busy Mouse indeed.

I've been off on a creative adventure and it's been quite a roller coaster - ups and downs, sometimes exhilarating and sometimes just making me feel a bit sick.  I've been exercising the opposite side of my brain by being creative - drawing, painting, glueing and sticking.  I've learned a lot, but nothing I couldn't have learned from my small boss, Edie, but it's been a lot of fun and the fun continues.

However, I did find that in exercising this part of my brain a strange thing happened.  I found that I missed exercising the other side of my brain, the side that can organise things and likes solving problems, the side of my brain that likes bossing people about in the nicest way, and bribing them with biscuits.  

And then a strange thing happened - I got a call. 'Hey, Mouse, you know you used to manage the orders for the Cheese Farmers, and it used to drive you mad when they put their cheese orders in too late and you had to get into a fight with the Rare Beast to get anything done?'
'Ummm... yes?'
'Do you want to be a Cheese Farmer?'
Well! Did I? This would really put the boot on the other paw.  Could I do it? Could I fit it in with the glueing and sticking? I decided to give it a go.

Things have changed a little - The Rare Beast has gone! Yes! He who took pride in not making friends in the office has gone off to not make friends somewhere else.  All of the creatures in my new office are really nice and I have an opportunity to raise a cheese order which I am doing in good time.  I shall show them!

So for now I am a happy Mouse, albeit a busy one!  What with ordering cheese, drawing stick men and gluing in my scrap book, and of course managing the needs of my small boss, Edie, I often don't know if I'm coming or going.  Which means I often look like this:-

Bewildered!  But have you noticed?  As I am now also an art student Mouse, my style has improved? Just look at that headband!

Creatively yours,
Mouse xx

Art for art's sake...

So it's official.  I'm an Art School Mouse.  I packed my pencil case and sketch pads and arrived for my first tutorial, bright and early on Monday morning. I got myself a coffee and sat in the cafe area, musing on my new life and what it might offer.

Ooh I was nervous.  My whiskers were twitching uncontrollably, my paws were a bit clammy. My fur kept sticking up, no matter how many times I put a bit of lick on it and stuck it down again...

You have to think about where to sit when you enter a room.  All the new mice were sitting clustered together at the back of the lecture room, I decided to be brave and sit at the front.  A good idea, until half way through the presentation when I really needed a wee (I blame the coffee) and had to boldly walk past the projector screen twice once there and once back.  Never mind.  I'm a big, grown up Mouse I kept telling myself (I'm not really, I'm very small as you know, but I pretend sometimes).

The presentation basically said:-

'Welcome to the University.  If you log onto the Student Mouse area you will find everything you need to know.  If you can't log on then you will have to try to find someone to help you.  If you don't read what's there you won't know.  If you don't do your work you will fail. If you want to WIN you can basically say goodbye to sleep or any kind of life.  Now.'

Well I felt a bit shaky after that, so on with the first task.

'The first task is to create a graphic novel.  You have one hour to draw up 10 panels and then you must choose 3 and convert them into digital images using Photoshop and Adobe Illustrator.  You must then submit them in a blog (at last - one word I understood - blogs I can do!).

Blimey.  So we watch a film.  Some thing about Apes and bones and space ships.  It doesn't last long but we have to watch it a lot of times and then draw it.

I don't know about you, but I like drawing birds and butterflies and flowers and pretty things. I don't draw apes particularly.  Or at all.  But that's it, that's what I have to do.  After an hour of attempting I have a few scribbles that look marginally like hairy spiders that have had all their legs pulled off.  Time to get them onto the computers.

The computer bit is taught by someone almost as young as my small boss, Edie and he WHIZZES through things in a very fast manner. My small brain is trying to keep up. What is this RGB CKMY business Dpi .tiff kind of file we're supposed to create? you have to what? layer what? Three hours later my brain is buzzing and there is smoke coming out of my paw tips as I try to keep up.  On the screen there is a blob.  This is going to be a very steep learning curve.

I manage to borrow a computer with the special software on it and I'm allowed to take it home as long as I sign a clause saying that if anything happens to it they can have my skin to make into a small rug in return.  I'm not happy about that but needs must.  At home I tend to my small boss, Edie, and then stay up for half of the night looking at bleeds and saturation and fill and I manage to do something good (draw over my actual squiggle ape with a furry type effect) and then something bad (realise that I have cut my mountains wrongly - keep up) and then something I don't understand which results in the whole sky turning orange and covering over the 5 suns that are shining overhead (it's art!).  I console myself with the fact that I have 3 more days until submission.  Yes, three more whole days with only 2 of those taken up with more lectures.  I refer to the bit in the electronic handbook where it says you don't have to sleep and I sigh...

Wednesday is drawing day - a bit of a cliche - sit opposite someone and draw them. This is quite enjoyable in that it's familiar. I'm not sure about the person drawing me who seems to be taking a very abstract approach to it.  I'm sure that my eyes are not both on the same side of my face, but I may be wrong.  At the end of the lesson we are told that next week we need to bring in 10 sheets of large paper.  And a stick.  Okay.

Thursday - another lecture - this time a different person tells us that we must work hard even just to scrape a course pass and that to get a good grade we must sign over all rights to sleep, rest and eating breaks unless any of them can be multi-tasked into a five minute period, preferably in the library whilst conducting research - only we would have to leave out the eating bit because of crumbs and the sleeping bit because of snoring.  We are then told that we have to produce an A0 sized black and white poster of ourselves and embellish it with paint or materials or art of any kind and bring it in for next weeks lesson.  Right.

The first problem here is how to get a photograph taken. The photo tech's tell us not to cheat and use any kind of mobile phone device as THEY WILL KNOW!  The second is composition - what the heck to do on this photo? In the end I decide to whizz down the hill on my scooter and get Mr. Mouse to take the photo.  I think this will demonstrate my maturity.  

I dress carefully in a T-Shirt - I plan to stick materials over my fur on the photo and didn't want a bulky coat to make me look like anything less than a svelte Mouse, and wellies - the hight of style and I zoom down the road.  Mr. Mouse points his camera at me and clicks away.  'How many shots did you get?' I ask him. 'None. I'm using the wrong lens'.

This goes on for some time.  I do run after run and my expression gets more terrified as each time, the brakes take a little longer to apply and make a loud screeching noise.  Finally we have the shot - now to get it printed.

I call the University Print Bureau: 'Hello, if I bring you the file today when can you print it?'
'Tuesday.'
'Tuesday? But it's Friday!'
'Yes.  Two day turnaround. Two working days.'
'But that means I won't get it until Tuesday and I'm in lectures all day Wednesday and I have to hand it in on Thursday! When am I supposed to decorate it?'
'Welcome to University'. Click.

I am stunned. I ring a professional printing company who assure me that they can print it in twenty minutes for the princely sum of three quid.  Deal.

So, one way or another, I have the print and I have submitted the first assignment and it's only 10pm on Friday night - HA! take THAT 'sleep is optional' manual.  I'm hoping that this rather heavy first week schedule only feels that way because of the steep learning path that I am on and that the lecturers are front loading us with a big bulk of work now to get us into it, somewhat in the manner of my junior school teacher lining us up at the local swimming baths and pushing us in, one by one, to teach us to swim (assuming we didn't drown).  

And I'm hoping that the weeks ahead give me time to do what I love and use my paints and inks rather than sticking stickers onto a picture of myself.  

In the meantime I'm having a well deserved sherry.

Artfully yours,
Mouse xx

Fresher Mouse...

I'm lying here with a small sherry, contemplating my week so far.  So, after a few months of rest and relaxation it's nice to have a routine again, to get up and shower, brush out my fur and whiskers and know that I will see more people than just the post man today.

Of course, there was also something else - call it excitement, call it anticipation... or just call it plain old nerves.  Yes, my whiskers were trembling somewhat as I dragged a comb through my freshly washed fur.  

Checking my joining instructions on Sunday night I pored over the Welcome Meeting schedule - well, there was no schedule as such, just a time and a place.  'Be in the Auditorium by 9.45'.  Okay no problem, I know where the campus is, I know where the Auditorium is, I know where to park the Mouse mobile (say mobeeeeel when you read that, as in super duper souped up car, not mobILE as in 'phone - okay?).  However, I consulted with Mr. Mouse, who actually works at the campus.

'I think you'd better check that, Mouse, it doesn't actually say 'on campus'.  I check.  He's right. I have to go to an auditorium in a theatre in the centre of town. Oh.  I don't know this town particularly well, despite living only 20 miles away for much of my mouse life, but I do know it's a kind of... mess.  I think it's sort of evolved, rather than been designed, with a huge modern shopping centre near to a 60s concrete monstrosity, and a stone's throw away from some proper good old architecturally pleasing buildings.  I check parking.  There is no actual itinerary so I don't know how long I would need to park for - worse case all day - £11.  ELEVEN POUNDS!  A lot to me, now that I am a poor student mouse.  I check the bus - where is the bus station - ah - there.  And the theatre? Ok. No idea then.

In the end I decide to get a ride into the campus with Mr. Mouse, and cross my paws that I can get a bus from there into the town. A friendly squirrel girl with red hair and enormous brown eyes tells me where I can get the bus, but also that I can walk into town and it will take ten minutes.  This being my preferred mode of transport, and the way I navigated Sweden, I set off on my sturdy paws for the walk.

I find the theatre - it is full to the brim of all manner of young creatures, colourful ones, shy ones who hide behind their fringes, the bendy kind that can sit on the floor in all manner of poses, some lone, some in packs, some huddled together, unsmiling and silent.  There are some older ones, older than me, looking confident, wise and enlightened. I am somewhere in the middle.  A song is playing in my head 'My heart is a-jumpin', my teeth are chatter, scarecrow, scarecrow... 'cos I'm scared alarming...'  Ten points to anyone who can name the band - it's an obscure one I'm sure.  I feel utterly out of place.  We are handed out some 'important information'.  Thinking it is an itinerary at last, I grab one.  It's a pamphlet showing what plays are on offer over the next few months.

We file into the Auditorium. I sit in the middle, between two very young creatures.  They introduce themselves - they are studying cool subjects such as creating computer games and they are comparing notes on halls and their room mates.  I can add little to this and so stare at the stage.  

We are given a welcome by the Dean of the University (the boss - his name is not Dean), and then the lecturers come out, one by one, and we are told to go and wait in the foyer in our study groups and follow our lecturers.  Again, no itinerary and no time to ask if we can go for a wee first.  Once located, the lecturers lead us on a walk - they don't tell us where we are going but point out useful reference points along the way 'That bar is open until 2am and do shots for 75p'.

It turns out we are walking back to the University.  So, I walked al l the way into town to be welcomed and taken on a walk back?  Good job I didn't book that all day parking. Once back we are told that we are not needed again until 2pm.  It has just gone 11am.

After a coffee, and a read, and a good old explore of the building I am herded along with the rest of my group into another Auditorium (I can see this is going to get confusing) and we are given a timetable - some useful information at last.

The second day is the actual enrolment.  This is fairly uneventful. I log onto the computer as directed, nothing happens.  I am sent to sit with a technician who will sort out the technical problems and guide me through it, the system crashes.  That sort of uneventful.  Eventually the task is complete, a photograph is taken (thankfully quite blurry and my whiskers look okay) and I am sent off, this time, for an induction of the library. This is where they tell me how to get books out of a library. My small boss, Edie, has told me this many times so it's not particularly interesting or surprising to me.  Then it's time to go home with nothing else happening until Thursday.  It strikes me that they could have, with a little planning, put all of the scheduled items into a one morning induction, but I mustn't go all process management on them - remember, I don't do that anymore.

So I think I have it sussed so far.  And as for the youngsters in their cool fur, well they all look normal and shy, but they do have rather large holes in their ears which I just can't fathom, really. And they say 'Awesome' a lot.  So for the rest of this week, this will be my goal, to get the word 'awesome' into every sentence, at least three times.

It will be awesome.

High Five,
Mouse xx

School's Out for Summer...

Heja Mes Amigos,

Excuse the mixed-up, made up, mishmash lingo.  I hardly know where I am.  I've been on holiday.

I've not had a proper holiday in years, but since I quit the nine to five in favour of the creative life I've taken things rather more easily, and what a Summer it's been. I've camped in tents, splashed by the sea-side and generally indulged in a long stay-cation.  Not for me the jetting off on plane - that was my work life of old - but the discovery of the countryside on my doorstep, with my small boss, Edie, by my side.  We have picked blackberries, scrumped for the neighbour's apples (shhhh - don't tell him), tramped through fields of Sunflowers, pounded the scorching pavements in our wellies, in search of local interest points, and practically lived in the garden, painting pictures, growing flowers and vegetables and tending to the fish in the pond.

I have shared a sherry with many a creature, exchanging views on the world, whilst watching the stars and the bats flitting overhead. I've knitted several more big squares of random wool oddments towards my patchwork winter blanket and I have immersed myself in books and largely abandoned technology.  How healthy.

But now I'm ready for a new challenge - and a new challenge is certainly coming!  Tomorrow I go back to school!  That's not a euphemism for a new job, it is actual school.  Well, University! I am going to learn all about art and paint and colours and drawing and pictures and how to generally survive with no money for cheese. I'll be there with lots of young mice - much, much younger than me. Mice who will all have cool fur and no small bosses to take care of.  The joining instructions have been informative.  I am to turn up at an appointed place, at an appointed time, and I will be welcomed and told more.  I am wondering if I have accidentally enrolled at a KGB convention - it's all very mysterious.  Exciting for the young mice I would imagine, but with small boss to consider, it's more irritating than exciting for me to be informed in this manner.  But we shall see.

As for the timetable of actual classes, well all I can say is that it's been sent to me, so that I can work around my small boss, Edie.  It is certainly suited to the course as it's in red and yellow.  And green and Orange. And some turquoise. All the different bits in different colours mean different things.  Some colours are together, sometimes there are big gaps of no colour.  There is no actual useful writing on it to tell me what the colours mean.  I am sure I will work it out.

So wish me luck - I need to go and iron my school uniform now and try out some 'root boosting gel' to try to get my fur to look as cool and funky as the young mice.  Oh, and I should probably not say 'cool' or 'funky' either.  The babies will no doubt give me withering looks...

Yours Excitedly,

Mouse xx

Staring out of the window, looking at the stars...

Please excuse the dim light on the photo.  My small boss, Edie, is sleeping and I'm sitting next to her, on watch duty.

Well it's been an odd time, all this having time on my paws, rather than rushing around 4 different countries in one day as I used to do.  Yes, I did say countries, not counties.  You can read up on the history by reading my earlier posts if you don't know THAT story.

But most of you here do, so on with todays post.  As I was saying, it's been a very odd time. A very odd time indeed and I think I may have gone quite mad, really, but sort of quietly, happily mad.  I will try to explain.  

I was brought up to be a very well mannered and hard working Mouse. 'When you grow up, Mouse, you will get a job', Mummy Mouse used to say to me, 'and you will work hard and never be lazy.'  Of course all I wanted to do was play with my crayons and paints and stare out of the window. I was utterly convinced I could make a living at that!  However, like all good mice, when I left school I joined the Rat Race and my staring out of the window days were done. Gone. I carried on playing with my crayons, usually during the long, tedious calls when I was acting referee between the Farmers and Cheese Suppliers, doodling long, intricate spirals and little rainbow sketches of my small boss, Edie, but I usually stopped guiltily when one of the Farmers would suddenly yell across the conference 'Well, what are you going to do about it, Mouse? I want my cheese NOW. Please escalate my cheese order IMMEDIATELY OR I WILL ESCALATE YOU, MOUSE!' in that terribly shouty way. Of course I would get then get into a slight panic and my whiskers would start to tremble as I would have to tell the Farmers that they should, in fact, have submitted their cheese order 90 days before they actually wanted it, as per the cheese production process... 

But you've heard all that before.

Anyway, when I stopped flitting between continents on a weekly basis and decided to take some time out to properly look after my small boss, Edie, I found that I had had enough. Enough of rushing around, enough of packing, enough of flying, enough of sitting in an office, or on a plane, or in an airport, enough of bossy Farmers, enough of lazy cheese suppliers and enough of pointless, useless, endless cheese orders, each more urgent and utterly hopeless than the one that came before it...

But still, Mummy Mouse's voice echoed in my little head 'When you grow up, Mouse, you will get a job and you will work hard and never be lazy.'  So I decided to try.

I went to something called an 'interview'. I sat opposite a man in a suit (I had brushed my fur and whiskers and everything) and he started to tell me a story: 'Well, Mouse, the thing is, we want some cheese.  We aren't quite sure what we want, we want the Cheese Suppliers to tell us.  All we know is we wanted the cheese last week and the Management Team of the hotel we are ordering it for want an explanation now as to why the cheese hasn't been delivered. Oh, and they are rather cross that I told them the cheese would only cost a bit and actually, it's going to cost a fortune, so we want someone to come in, make the Cheese Suppliers give us lots of options - we don't want to pay for their expertise by the way, Mouse, and to give the bad news to the Hotel owners. Oh, and I forgot to mention, they are located 100 miles away, Mouse, and we feel it would be best if you go and sit with them every day so that they can SEE that you are sorting it out, Mouse.  What do you reckon, Mouse? Are you up to the job?'

THUD.  The sound of my head hitting the desk. 

I made some polite squeaks, stood up and offered my paw. 'Any more questions, Mouse?' asked the man in a suit. Where can I get a very strong coffee? Now? I didn't verbalise the thought, just muttered a pathetic 'No. Thank you. It'sbeennicetomeetyoubye.' and scuttled out of the door on paws of fire.

I couldn't go back to it. 

But how would I live? What would I do? I pondered the situation the best way a Mouse knows how. Over a vodka, with a friend.

'What do you want to do, Mouse?' she asked.
'I don't know.' I sighed. 'All I want to do is sit and paint and doodle and play with my crayons'.
'Why don't you then, Mouse?'
I raised one eyebrow as best I could - I never really mastered how to do that - in an attempt at a sarcastic stare. 'I can't think why, really, although I do quite like to eat and pay my bills...'
'You can do whatever you want, Mouse' she said. 'S'up to you'.

And I thought about it. And thought some more. And did some research on the interwebnet. And filled in some forms. And sharpened my crayons. And got out all of my old, scribbly pictures. 

And I asked my small boss, Edie, if I should get a proper job and earn some money, or whether I should draw pictures and write stories and she said...

'If you get a proper job you will stay as you are and nothing will change. If you draw pictures you will be happy. You will use your paws and your brain. Do what you want, Mouse. I will love you, whatever.'

But I could still hear Mummy Mouse saying 'When you grow up, Mouse, you will get a job and you will work hard and never be lazy.' And so I went to see Mummy Mouse, to ask her what I should do.  She laughed at me (but with kind eyes) and said 'Oh Mouse, you know, you can choose not to grow up if you like, and play with colours and paints and be happy. You've been a good little Mouse for long enough. Do what you want, Mouse. I will love you, whatever.'

And so I am going to be a student Mouse. I am going to draw and colour and paint and print and learn and read and write... 

And I will probably start experimenting with weird hairstyles and funny coloured drinks and I will be able to tell you about all the odd creatures who hang around in universities.

And I will be a happy little Mouse. And I think when you are a creative, artistic Mouse, you are allowed to stare out of the window...

Happily yours,
Mouse xx

Musical Mouse...

I've noticed that the regularity with which I write a new post to tell you of my news often coincides with when I've had my claws clipped.  I mean, not when I haven't posted for ages, obviously. That's just when I'm being lazy or when I've got a bee in my bonnet about something or when I have brain freeze.  

Some mice seem to like having long, elegant claws and they even go to the extent of painting them or decorating them with little jewels, or even, would you believe, clipping on false claws or sticking them on with the kind of glue that must play havoc with the fur!  Can you imagine? I mean in some cases the claws are so long that, well, how can they attend to personal matters?  Anyway I shall peruse on that no longer.  My claws are neatly clipped and no longer click clack over the keys and snag on my best jumper.

Talking of keys, I've replaced my short lived love for coffee mornings and verbal neighbour bashing for a new hobby.  I am learning to play the piano.

I decided to buy a piano several years ago when a good friend and I were discussing the things we would like to do, over several health drinks called 'Vodka and Cranberry'.  'I have always wanted to play the piano.' said I.

'Ooh yes, me too!', said Mr. Mouse.  'Let's have a look at them on Ebay.'

'Ooh look at that one! Shiny!'  I gazed at a glossy walnut brown beauty of aged elegance. 'Can you pour me another health drink, Mr. Mouse?'

'Certainly Miss Mouse.  Ooh sorry, spilled a bit. There.' He mopped a bit of cranberry health drink off the keyboard with his best handkerchief. 'You should bid for it, Mouse.'

'Ha ha ha! Yes. Well we won't win that.  It'll go for a fortune.  I'll prove it, look.' I typed in a number.

You have been outbid

I typed in another, bigger number.

You have been outbid

'Oh this is ridiculous.  Pass the cranberry health drink, Mr. Mouse. Right. This'll get them.'  I typed in a ridiculous number.

Congratulations.  You are the High Bidder.

Mr. Mouse and I looked at each other.  Oops.  Oh well, it's so lovely, someone will outbid us, look, there is only one minute left of the auction.  Everyone knows that loads of people lurk around until the end and then bid in the last few seconds.

Congratulations.  You have won the auction.

Oh bugger!  That wasn't meant to happen. 

The next morning over a very strong coffee (those vodka and cranberry health drinks seemed to have sent my head a bit funny) and I had to take out a small mortgage and pay for the piano, and arrange to have it transported from some obscure point at the furthest reaching end of a distant town (it would be there and not down the road, wouldn't it).  Well that should be easy enough.  A man and a van will do it for a tenner, surely.  But no - it seems that transporting a piano is a very tricky thing indeed, because they are sensitive creatures who do not like being disturbed, do not like changes in temperature and are actually quite heavy.  We needed a specialist.  I 'phoned up the small mortgage company and asked to be transferred to the rather larger mortgage department, and the deed was arranged.

And so many years later, I have the time to play the piano.  It has actually been moved a few times since it first came to me, it was borrowed by a family friend who could bash out quite a tune, and then moved back recently and, despite it's claims to delicacy and the fact that I have never had it tuned or maintained, that great old piano still appears to be in tune.  I learned all about this on Youtube, you see.  Each key is linked to three strings, and each string to a peg. When one of these strings goes out of tune by stretching or warping, the key makes a sound much like my old Mother used to make when she stepped on one of my childhood Stickle Bricks, so you test it by pinging each of the three strings to see if they make the same sound.  If they don't, you have to ring the mortgage company again and they send a man round who can turn the peg with a special key until it makes the same noise as it's neighbours.  Well mine all sound fine - amazingly.  I also tested it against another Youtube video which plays the sounds, and I'm pleased to report that my piano plays a 'C' when you press a 'C' etc.  I have no idea how this is possible after the rough treatment and neglect it has received at my paws, but I am not complaining.

I will report more on my lessons very soon.  Maybe even before my claws need clipping again, but in the meantime I will leave you with this thought...

...Whatever did we do in the days before Youtube?  The internet has a lot to answer for.  Especially Ebay.

Musically yours,
Mouse xx

A Mouse outside of the Rat Race...

My days used to have a routine to them.  They still have a routine to them.  But I have to tell you this: this routine is nicer.

I never quite know how I will settle in to 'doing nothing' as I'm usually such a busy Mouse, but they way to properly deal with it is not to 'do nothing'.  On the contrary.  I have been a very busy Mouse indeed doing... nice things.  Although I'm no longer a travelling Mouse, I still have my small boss, Edie, who of course gives me rather a lot of jobs to do.  One of those jobs has been to meet Edie at her school every day and walk home with her.  Instead of complaining at me, like the Farmers and the Cheese Manufacturers did, Edie throws herself at me for a hug, which I have to say is a joy.  I've been clearing out cupboards, making a wood pile for the many, many cosy log fires I've had, scribbling in my diary and painting pictures.  And I've also been meeting some of the 'day creatures' - the creatures who are not in the Rat Race and who do different things during the day. 

One of the things these day creatures like to do is to meet up for coffee, which I brew in my special little Swedish coffee pot on top of the stove.  But how odd they are.  Very different from the Rat Race creatures.  For a start, they don't seem to hear very well.  A typical conversation will be:-

Me: 'Oh hello, Owl, thank you for coming round. Would you like some coffee?'
Owl: 'Oh yes please, Mouse. How are you enjoying your time off?'
Me: 'Oh, it's lovely thank you, Owl.  I've been...'
Owl: 'Yes, well, let me tell you about Squirrel. You don't know Squirrel but he caused a lot of trouble last year, you see, he moved into this area of the forest and built himself a nut store, but you see he didn't ask Donkey, and you know Donkey has lived here for many years.'
Me: 'Oh - who is Donkey?'
Owl: 'And then I didn't tell you, did I? I went away at the weekend with Mr. Owl.  We went to the seaside. We had some chips.  We love chips...'

And so it goes on.  After about 3 hours, Owl, realising that there is no more coffee, decides to get up and go home.  I am utterly perplexed.  My head is now full of information about all sorts of creatures who I do not know and I have spoken approximately three sentences, one of which was to excuse myself for a wee.  Please excuse me telling you this but that is the other thing about these 'coffee meetings', you know, liquid in can only be liquid in for so long. I still do not know who Donkey is and why Squirrel building a nut store is such a problem but an odd thing happens.  I start to think about this Squirrel and what he has done to poor Owl (even though I do not properly understand it) and I start to form opinions, based only on Owl's opinion.  I pinch myself hard when I catch myself doing this, I can tell you!  You can't base an opinion on what somebody else tells you?  can you?

Anyway, I can tell you, because you are lovely and you never interrupt, or make me drink too much coffee, so, I've been nesting in my nest, taking care of my small boss, Edie, I've been swimming lots - very relaxing, and thinking about what I might do next.  But I'm not thinking about that TOO hard just yet.

Oh - and I find I'm already losing my work skills.  Like the skill of drinking wine.  When you are a Travelling Mouse you find yourself in all sorts of situations where you have to eat out with work friends and colleagues, and of course it is only polite to drink wine with dinner.  I have never had a problem with this and was as professional a wine drinker as a Cheese negotiator.  Anyway, I went out recently for no other reason than fun, and discovered by my wobbly paws that I need to practice my wine drinking.  My fur was quite fuzzy the next day I can tell you.  

And the oddest thing - I've gone off cheese...

Happily yours,
Mouse xx

Reflections...

Hello. Yes.  It's me.  I'm still here.  

So why have I been so quiet, you ask? (Go on then, ask!)  Well, it's been a bit of a whirlwind for the past few months.  Not only was I continuing my international jet setting with the Cheese Orders in Sweden, I was also looking after the UK Cheese Orders.  All of this kept me extremely busy.  Not because of all the cheese that kept being delivered, but because I had to manage all of the reasons for why the cheese was not being delivered on time to two different geographical areas.  It taught me one thing, the complexities of cheese ordering and the delivering of actual cheese is difficult on a global basis. There is no one, particular reason for this but all of the factors put together - the late orders, the difficulty in raising the paperwork to order cheese, the two different production partners in the cheese making process, the difficulty in understanding cheese requirements, the production partners not actually having any cheese ingredients in stock (having now outsourced the cows themselves, to Indian and Bulgarian dairy farms), the lack of production partner staff to wrap the cheese and the lack of any actual cheese distribution means that having a cheese sandwich on the date you have promised your hungry customers you will have one is pretty much impossible. It didn't help matters that the Rare Beast moved into Cheese Production so the standard answer would always come back as 'NO'.  I give up.

And I did give up.  Literally.  I carried on and gave it my best but it was clear that one little mouse couldn't knit the whole thing back together again with goodwill and wishes alone.  So I have passed the Cheese Production Order Monitoring on to someone else.  I  used to work with her before, in my crime fighting days and I think she will be awesome.  Here we are doing our handover.  I think she will kick some ass although I do worry that she might set a few airport monitors off.

So, what next for Mouse? I think it's time to think. To sit back and remind myself of who I am. Me. Mouse.  So to that end I have changed the title of this little memoir to 'Resting Mouse' - for now - and I've changed the look of it a bit.  What do you think?

Stay tuned for news of my 'resting' adventures.  Although I don't think I'll rest very much.  Do you?

Yours relax-ed-ly,

Mouse xx

The Clangers...

Although my official Job Title is 'Travelling Mouse', the 'travelling' bit doesn't just refer to the hopping on and off of planes, trans and roller skates.  What I mean is that I have t be flexible.  

I don't mean attending yoga classes three times a weeks.  I have the technology (when it works) to work from just about anywhere.

Of course this has it's advantages, especially during the recent hot weather, when I have worked many a morning from my garden with a pot of fresh coffee at my paw.  This does mean that I have to remember to press the 'mute' button when attending conference calls before someone asks where the bird noises are coming from.

At the moment however I have limited technology.  I usually access my e-mail and applications using a device that looks like a USB stick (or a kind of red cockroach with a metal bit at the end, for the non technically savvy among you) that plugs into my laptop and connects via smoke, mirrors and my portable wifi to the world of Cheese orders.  Last week I was in the middle of a conference call when a message flashed up on the screen: 'Connection Lost', and the fascinating presentation on Cheese Production I had been engaged in disappeared from my screen. A quick investigation (me looking at the USB port at the back of my laptop) revealed that the USB (metal bit) part was still firmly intact in the port. However the 'stick' (cockroach) bit was on the desk.  Two years worth of travelling and transporting of the device in various bags, suitcases and pockets had taken it's toll.  The device was broken beyond repair.

So, while I wait for a new device, which of course had to be ordered by a many stepped and laborious application and approval process, I am limited in my flexibility.  I can still do a perfect back bend but actually connecting to anything useful via my laptop is a distant memory, so I have to be creative.

This morning, for example, I had an appointment and a one hundred  and fifty nine page document detailing the various responsibilities of the Cheese Producers, the Wrapping and Packaging Suppliers, the Cheese Integrators and the Farmers themselves to review.  My appointment was far from the office and close to a well known coffee shop and, well, I hadn't had any breakfast, so I went in, ordered a strong coffee and a muffin (for brain power) and settled into a nice quiet corner seat to review the massive manuscript.

Thirty eight pages in (it is very complicated and I have to read it very slowly) and two gentlemen appear nearby.  They are speaking in a language that my mouse ears do not understand but they are carrying a very large box.  My whiskers twitch in uncomfortable anticipation.

The gentlemen go over to two large, comfortable looking chairs in the opposite corner and I breath a sigh of relief and return to the complexities of the Cheese outsourcing manual.  Two minutes later they reappear, carrying the two large chairs between them. I nearly fall off mine.  What are they doing?

The large box is opened.  It contains a hammer and a drill.  They proceed to tip the comfortable looking chairs upside down, drill out the bolts holding them together and hammer every metal part of them.  Hard. Two feet away from my sensitive mouse ears. Clang. Clang. Clang.  All the time they work, they jabber away in the strange language.  Well, flexible I may be, but there is a limit.  If I want constant noise, interruption and incomprehensible chit chat I can work from the office.  I glance at my plate - the muffin is a distant memory and the coffee now cold, so I pack up my documents and the office is exactly where I head.

My ears are still ringing.

Mouse xx

Everything is blurry...

Hoorah!  I can go travelling again and a-travelling I will go.  In fact I did go.  This week.  

So, Monday morning found me at Birmingham Airport, at my usual table, in my usual coffee shop, tapping away at my keyboard and setting up the business meetings and notes I would need for my latest visit to Sweden.  Tap, tap, tap, actions all done, paperwork all read and understood, presentation material all ship-shape.  I looked up at the flight information board - flight delayed by one hour.  Sigh.  Tap, tap, tap, rearrange all the meetings I had set up for that afternoon. 

On the plane I like nothing more than to settle down with a good book.  If the plane is empty and I have a whole row to myself (hooray!) I like to do some work but if you are literally paw-to-elbow with your commuting neighbour I don't like to work because:-

• They might elbow me and spill coffee on my keyboard
• I might elbow them (and they will probably be bigger than me)
• They might read what I am writing and sell the information to a rival Cheese company
• It is a nuisance having to say 'excuse me please' every five minutes in order to get out / put away the laptop

Anyway, on this occasion the flight was full.  I pulled out my book (Of Mice and Men - it's not what I expected it to be about - there aren't that many mice in it) and reached into my flight bag for my reading / working glasses.

They were not there.

I rummaged around a bit further.  No.  Definitely not there.  I put the book away and had a think. Maybe the glasses were playing that game. You know the one, where you search for something, it's not there, you check again and again, not there, and then you check later and there it is and was all along. I decided to check again at the hotel and settled down to the business of a small sleep.

I like the hotel I stay in. I stay in the same place regularly as they have a nice breakfast, and in the evening they put on 'a light buffet'.  Well, it's light if you are an elephant maybe, but to a small Mouse it's a feast! They also have pots of coffee out all day and all night, and very often cakes too!  This time, however, I think they mistook my request for a room, for a request for a small cupboard.  The bed was comfy but it nearly touched the wall on all sides.  There was a small desk, that could easily double up as a shelf, a small wardrobe and a bathroom.

I set the laptop up on the shelf desk and proceeded to empty the contents of my flight back onto the bed: three international power adapters, several pens, copies of Cheese orders, sunglasses (good - I like to look stylish), a USB plug, several USB charger cables (see how efficient that is? one plug and many cables that fit? Perfect until I need to charge two things at the same time), tissues (new), tissues (used - ugh), screwed up tickets and boarding cards and a small pack of emergency snacks.  No reading / working glasses.

For that afternoon I had calls to make - not so much of a problem.  I sat on the chair (did I forget to mention that there was a chair rammed into the minute space between the bed and the shelf desk?) and peered at the screen to find the numbers to call. 

The screen was covered in a number of fuzzy squiggles. I pushed the laptop forward. I pushed the chair back. I leaned back and squinted, putting my paw over each digit in the telephone number as I squinted and reading them out like a child. 7,7,3,4,8,no,0,no,8,no,3.  It was no use. I dialled a few numbers, apologized to a few people for disturbing their afternoon and listened to a few 'not listed' tones until I finally had a brainwave! I used the cut and past facility to copy the number and paste it into a Word document, then increased the font size to large. Much better.  I was able to do the calls!

For the remainder of the trip, improvisation was the key word.  During presentations I was able to read the large text on the projector screen, but writing notes in my diary was more of a challenge.  I found myself listening double hard, to make up for being visually challenged and it made me realise what a visual Mouse I am, relying on pictures, expressions and body language to make sense of at least half of the stories my customers tell me. I also stopped glancing at e-mail during meetings, a bad habit and also rude to the person I am speaking to, but something I notice we all do.

In the evenings I was not able to pass the time reading, or playing games on my iPad and so I went to bed early, or went for a walk. Many, many times I went to reach for my glasses as I picked up my mobile phone, or I would go to switch on my laptop in the evening and 'just catch up on e-mails', both very bad habits really.  The loss of my specs forced me to be just a Mouse and not a Cheese-ordering-problem-solving-requirements-gathering-expectations-managing Mouse for once.

The visit was over far too soon and there were several of my favourite Miss Mooses on my catch up list who I never got to see (this time), and it was time to set off and claim my glasses from Birmingham Airport Lost Property.  I got up at the unearthly hour of 5.30am Swedish time, in order to get home for mid-day UK time so that I could attend some more calls.  However, luck was not on my side.  As I printed my boarding pass I squinted at the blurry lines.  Two blurry lines and two blurry seat numbers.  I could just about make out the word 'Frankfurt'.  I ran over to the SAS desk as fast as my paws would carry me.  There were rather a lot of people there, complaining that they had been diverted.  The red face man behind the glass looked flustered and uncomfortable. The flight to Birmingham had been cancelled and we were all being ferried home by various double hop routes.

Oh well. I like airports and I don't mind delays too much.  A few calls and my meetings were rescheduled. At least I could settle down and read a magazine. Oh - hang on, no, I can't do that either.

So I did what a Mouse does best.  Breakfast in Sweden. Second breakfast in Denmark. Lunch in Germany.  Dinner back home in the UK.  With a few snacks in between thrown in for good measure.

When I finally arrived back at Birmingham, I made my way up to Lost Property and there were my glasses, waiting safely and soundly for me.  I put them on and the world became a clearer, sharper place. I checked my mobile phone, my texts, my e-mail, Facebook, Twitter, the news sites and the gossip sites.  I was up to speed, informed and with a head full of useless facts and time wasting information that I had managed to live without for the past three days, which leads me to think that although it's great to be informed, to have information at our paw tips and able to communicate with friends, family and colleagues all over the world in an instant, sometimes a blurry world is the healthier option.

Fuzzily yours,

Mouse xx

Rise and Shine...

One of the interesting things about working with my Farmer customers who are based in different countries is that I get to work in different timezones.  This is good because I was never a 9-5 Mouse.  Because of this I often work at home, settling myself into my desk just as the birds are chirping into life outside, snuggled in my dressing gown, coffee in paw.  Unfortunately this can mean, if it's a very busy day of telephone calls and conferences, that I am still snuggled in my dressing gown as the mid-day sun is streaming through the skylights (or more usually, the rain is beating down), the coffee has gone cold and the birds have long since disappeared to their daily adventures.  Once, one of my Quality Control colleagues - the ones who check the Cheese orders and offers to ensure that the cheese is compliant with European Taste and Texture standards, tried to dial me into a video conference.  There was I, with bird's nest fur, wrapped in a terry towelling garment that had seen better days, at risk of exposure to an entire office full of tick-box health-and-safety types who would, I envisage, take one look at my bedraggled state and send Social Services round to monitor me as I clearly cannot look after myself.  I am now meticulous and making sure that the webcam isn't on (and I sometimes stick one of my boss Edie's stickers over the little camera.  That'll fox 'em.

Anyway, I had to attend one such call on Monday morning at 7.30. Being a diligent Mouse, and as my colleague from the Cheese Operational Integration Board was also attending, I decided to go into the office.  I wore my new red business outfit (do you like it? The picture doesn't do it justice.)and tiptoed into the silent office at 7am to prepare.

Did you know that you can't even get a decent cup of coffee in  my office at 7am? Yes you can get the bitter, brown, weak excuse for coffee from the free coffee machines, but not the proper stuff.  However, I happened to walk into the building at the same time as the Catering Manager so a little smile, a cheery 'Good Morning', a compliment, 'Oh you won your badminton match? well done', and a little cough, smile 'what time does your coffee machine go on?' accompanied by a desperate look (I didn't have to act this, it comes naturally at that time in the morning), and he switched it on early for me.  

The proverbial Cup of Ambition clutched in paw, I set up the meeting room.  Laptop? check. Remote connectivity on wireless? Not working.  Find a wire and plug it in? Check. Phone on? Check.

By and by, in wanders my Operational Cheese Board colleague, bleary eyed and still shuffling somewhat with the shock of the early encounter. I do the decent thing and fetch her a coffee while she plugs herself in.

We dial in.  The Farmers are all there, discussing their Cheese Orders. All of the Cheese Orders appear to be the Most Important Cheese Orders, but this we are used to.  The meetings are definitely getting better.  The Farmers are more used to the process and we are there to speak for ourselves and manage expectations (i.e. make sure that everything is not just blamed on the Cheese Suppliers)and we roll forward nicely.  Then the Farmers decide to have a coffee break.

So, there are the Operational Cheese Board lady and myself, having struggled in at an indecent hour, listening to the sound of clanking crockery, the stirring of coffee and the dunking of biscuits, and much chatter.  All in Swedish. We imagine that they have a table full of lovely delicacies, Danish Pastries from just over the bridge, Cheese, Biscuits... Having actually attended these meetings on many occasion I know this is just fantasy, but we have missed breakfast you see, and the poor Farmers are probably having to listen to the rumbling of our tummies across the telephone line.

All too soon the conference is over and I pack up my laptop, diary, pens and wires and return to my desk, just as the other colleagues are starting to drift in. I arrive just in time to do a full days work.  I fell like I have done a full days work already*

*I have.

So I settle down, set up and get ready for the next call of the day.

But not before returning to the Canteen to see my friend, the Canteen Manager, and stock up on more coffee and some breakfast. I wonder if they do a good Cheese on Toast...?

Yours Tiredly,
Mouse xx

Take it Easy, Mouse...?

You might be surprised to hear this, but even I, Miss Mouse,am not invincible.  I have been ill.  Yes. Ill.

It started with a tummy bug.  I went to a party with a few of my friends, and one of them, naughty Piggy, came to the party with a bad tummy bug and didn't tell anyone. All of us caught it.  Everyone got better.  I didn't.

I went to the doctor who gave me some pills, designed and prescribed, to cure all my ills - oops - sorry - must concentrate on telling the story - anyway - they didn't.

During this time I limped along. I went to Denmark, Copenhagen to be exact, to visit some more farmers to discuss a large Cheese order.  I had long wanted to visit Copenhagen but thanks to a horrid hotel and my poor tummy and the horrible way the prescribed tablets made me feel, it wasn't an enjoyable trip.  The Farmers were very good and excellent at planning, and they laid on lots of Danish Pastries, which, on a better day, I would have devoured, but on this occasion I could only stumble delicately from Boardroom to Bedroom, via the loo, trying to get through each hour without turning green and being sick.  Or worse.

I went to the Big Hospital to see the Chief Doctor and she sent me to hospital.  Immediately.  Do Not Pass Go.  Do Not Collect Cheese Orders.  Oh the loss of control! But I was too weak to fight.  I sent the required e-mails to let my team know, switched off my phone, and succumbed to the world of intravaeneous steroids, fluids and antibiotics for 5 days.  Not to mention hospital food.

Eventually I was allowed home. I called my boss. 'Hello, it's Mouse. I will be off for the rest of the week, and I will be back on Monday', I squeaked, pathetically. The drugs were, in turn, squeezing and expanding my head, dragging me into sleep and, very delicately and slowly, repairing the damage to my little furry body. 'Ok Mouse. By the way, ignore the message I sent to you on Wednesday. I have the answer now.'

Message? So while I am in my hospital bed my boss is leaving me work calls. Inevitable I suppose.  Anyway... I went back to work.

And then a complication. I won't go into the delicate details but I ended up back in the Big Hospital, with a big fat General Anaesthetic in my paw while a horrid surgeon with a scalpel made a few tweaks to my physique. Three more days in hospital and a very delicate time afterwards having my war wounds dressed. This is ongoing and I am not allowed to travel. Try explaining THIS to the Farmers though. There is one particular Farmer who ALWAYS places late Cheese Orders who is neither amused nor understanding about this situation. 'I want you to come and explain to my team what you do, Mouse and how you can speed up the Cheese Orders' she demands.  I sigh. And once again, remind her to get her Cheese orders in clearly and early. And of the presentation on how Cheese Orders work, that I and the Cheese Delivery Board showed to her. And of the fact that we have a weekly planning Telco. And that we are all there to work together to ensure timely Cheese delivery.

And then I remind myself that some things cannot be changed. And that worrying about it will not be helpful to a half poorly Mouse. And that rest and sleep are good.  And that travel will happen soon enough.  In a few weeks I will be able to go back to lovely Sweden and Denmark and enjoy the experience. And choose a better hotel. 

So look after yourselves, people. Doing your best is the best thing you can do. But we can't fix the world and sometimes, trying to do that, means it is us who have to be fixed.

Delicately Yours,
Mouse xx

The Way We Work...

Morning!

Thank goodness for coffee eh? 

Well, here I am, at the airport. Again.  It's 8am and I've been up since 5am.  Well, a girl has to make sure her fur looks good before travelling you know.  Anyway, as I sit here with my Super Large Coffee, I've been contemplating travel and the journey to work.

When I started out my career as an Office Junior Mouse back in... well, let's not give any dates away, but it was more than a few weeks back, if you know what I mean, well anyway, I used to get the bus into the office every morning.  I was often late as I hated that bus and that office junior job come to that.  I would clonk over the road in my high heels - yes - even mice wear high heels when they're young and foolish, make the bus by the tuft of my tail and sit at the back with a good book and eat my lunch on the journey to work.  Once in the City Centre (where else did anyone work in those days? Business Parks were yet to be invented), I would clonk along the pavement, staring in the shop windows at the aspirational pay day purchases, under the subway (long since filled in by Health and Safety), purchase a pocketful of mints (have I ever told you how many fillings I have) and clonk up the office steps just in time to install myself in front of my typewriter (yes, not connected to ANYTHING other than a ribbon) in time for coffee with at least four sugars (back to the fillings again).  This is how everyone worked.  A few years later when I had passed my driving test, I would clumsily clunk the gears and grind my way into my next office - located OUT OF TOWN (progress!) and clonk (still in the high heels) into yet another office, log onto my computer (more progress!)and while DOS booted up (not that much progress, then!) I would go and queue up for a cheese pastie (easier on the fillings).

Then Business Parks happened.  Purpose built complexes complete with inadequate parking - first come, first served.  I even tried getting Edie to lend me one of her stuffed rabbits so I could sit it in the passenger seat and try to sneak into the carshare spots.  I logged onto bigger, faster computers, discovered coffee, and started to lower my heels. Nothing to do with age, you understand.

Then came train travel to exotic locations.  London! Sheffield! Birmingham!  Once I flew to Ireland!  On a little tiny 6 seat plane.  I was still young enough to make the most of the situation, partying with lovely Irish friends and fitting in a bit of work.  I remember that trip very well.  Something awful and very sobering happened in the news.  The date was September 11th.  Where were you?

Anyway I digress.  As I got into my routine this morning, up at 5, wash my whiskers, brush my fur, brush what's left of my teeth, put on my flat travel boots, quick stock check of the travel bags, it occured to me that this is now normal.  To travel not only 5, 15 or even 50 miles to the office but to travel hundreds of miles.  To go by car, by train, by plane.  To set up my office wherever I lay my hat, so to speak.  And do you know what? I love it.  It makes for an interesting life. Not so much a 9-5 as a wherever and whenever. And  am sure I am more productive for it.  No more staggering in late with the minimum of enthusiasm.  No more timing my arrival with the delivery of morning munchies, and certainly no more sugar.  I am a healthier, older and much more focussed and enthused Mouse these days (although perhaps a little less stylish).  Isn't it amazing that we can get better work / life balance, which until a few years ago was just a saying without substance, by timing our work around our lives. It suits me and I find I react much more quickly.

Anyway, oops, time is flying and so must I. No delays today so off I go. 

Maybe time for just one more coffee?

Wishing you all a lovely day,
Mouse xxx