Heavy Soul

I am a housing officer, yes that's right, a man given the unenviable task of trying to manage a society of people who would find a neighbour to annoy and fight with even if they lived on a desert island. The coconuts would leave in their droves. I generalise of course, as the large majority of the tenants in our houses are nice people who are genuine and form an important part of our society, unfortunately my role means I never see them.

Instead I just deal with the needy trouble makers who insist on using the made up word of 'turnt' instead of 'turned' in their letters to me. I did once remark to a tenant that she had pretty much written her letter phonetically and I was having trouble deciphering it. Suffice to say her response did not need any deciphering.

I do feel guilty moaning about my job, I am rather a 'high maintenance' employee at times, but sometimes I do wish I had maybe fallen into something a little less 'corrosive on the soul' to earn my daily bread. Take today for example, I received an e-mail to say that an operative who had visited one of our properties did not complete his repair as the state of the property was disgusting and he felt sick, apparently there was dog poo everywhere, walls, carpets, doors etc. So they are now expecting me to venture round to the brick encased pet outhouse to 'check out' the situation and make some sort of report back. What do they want me to say? I have a feeling the report will be short...Was there poo present..Yes...Was it disgusting...Yes...On a scale of 1 - 10, with 10 being the pooiest, would you put the poo...

But on the bright side have just enrolled for an Open university course which I am hoping will enable me to escape this world of gloom for a brighter career. We shall see, I must first tame the beast that is procrastination and make it my slave, or at least just remove spider Solitaire from my PC would be a start...

Toodle Pip