The Receptionist's Truths, Part 1

I don't necessarily know "what the call is regarding", they asked for you by name and it's a bit tacky to second guess. If you wanted a secretary you probably should have tried harder at school.

I probably should remember who you are, I do not. So you will wear your visitor's badge.

"This is an urgent message" Yeeeeeeaaaaah, but is it though? Many's the time I have rushed forth and handed the post-it note over, only for the recipient to smirk a bit and walk away.

"Why am I blocked in the car park?" Because space is finite.

Nothing will convince me to pull you out of your meeting faster than a call from a primary school re: vomiting child.

When I Drink

I have nearly finished my time at my current workplace. I know this because last night a dozen or so people gathered in the pub in response to an email I'd circulated, announcing my departure and inviting ...whoever...to "leaving drinks". The name is misleading because I am not a drinker, particularly. When I was 15 I pretended I had a moral objection to drink; people respected that more than just being too soft to get pissed under-age. The story stood up for various reasons.

In truth, I *was* too much of a wimp to drink because my mum would inevitably find out. And that would be most upsetting. After a while I started drinking overnight at friends houses and caring less what my mum thought even when the evidence was clear.

Ah, the evidence. It manifested in unexpected ways. Like, walking to the door. My mum's front door is accessed by a long ramp and I insist on leaning on her to walk up it. The same was true when coming back from the pub in my late teens. They say alcohol affects people differently: people without Cerebral Palsy stumble around a bit, maybe zigzag, possibly fall. In people *with* Cerebral Palsy , a moderate alcohol intake releases some of the pesky disabling muscle tension. My mum knew I'd been drinking when I scaled the ramp with an overly confident stride. Basically, it is possible to have CP and be *better at walking* if only you'd just get drunk.

The (athetoid) CP comedian Josh Blue also notes this phenomenon. ["Josh, are you drunk? I heard your key in the door, you got it on the first try"]. But I saw it first, so there.

So, with alcohol apparently having healing properties, why am I such an occasional drinker now? It's not that I don't like the taste, that's a cop out, everyone can "like the taste" if they give it their full attention. I suppose the high sugar content of what I do drink, coupled with the booze, throws fuel on to the mood swing fire. Believe me, a sense of utter despair and the overwhelming need to sleep is genuinely off putting.

And then there's the drinking venues. Bright, confusing places with overlapping conversations and what I assume is the sound of Having A Good Time. I'm not suggesting all drinkers all have a good time every time they drink, it's just easier to believe that when you're the one wanting to go home and eat trifle alone. I probably sound cynical and negative right now. Correct. But it's mainly just bewilderment.

But...why??

It has been nearly two years since my last blog post. What has happened? Well, I've decided to try and become a solicitor. I was watching The Wire one night and things just escalated from there. I'd taken the first admin job offered to me with almost the sole purpose of renting a flat to live independently*. For the first time....ever..probably....I felt solid. A solid base is always good. And what did I do with that base? I enrolled on the Graduate Diploma in Law (Distance Learning). Obviously.

And, as I said with great sincerity at a recent non-law job interview, law is AMAZING.

*Independent Living isn't a phrase I hear outside the young and fairly significantly disabled population. Our non-disabled peers "move out" , we "live independently". The distinctions are many and I can't be arsed with any of them right now.