Estamos aquí!

We´re here!








Yeeha! We flew to Madrid a week ago, to stay in the very comfortable Hotel Agumar on Paseo Reina Cristina, which I had booked online the day before through expedia.com. That saved us €18-23 a night on their regular rate, so let me recommend the expedia service!

The hotel is in the Tringulo de las artes, which means that, although P. Reina Cristina itself is nothing to write home about, it’s in walking distance of the Prado, the Centro Reina Sofía (modern art) and the Thyssen-Bornemisza, a donated private collection which apparently fills some of the gaps in the Prado collection: apparently, the Prado collection reflects the tastes of successive monarchs, rather than a sustained effort to build a representative national collection. We managed some of the Reina Sofía last weekend, but there’s no rush to pack it all into one trip – because we live here now, and can go back as often as we like! Ha!

We extended our hotel stay a couple of days (which is why I know the difference between the expedia rate and the regular rate.) while we looked for permanent accommodation. After seeing some teensy-weensy unfurnished flats at the kind of rates you expect in a capital city, of which our favourite (owned by a bank) would have involved a twelve month bank guarantee, or six months’ rent as security, we decided to find something furnished as a temporary measure, to give us time to get to know the city properly.

Habibi found the in-Madrid.com website a few months ago, which is why we know that the Madrid Players don’t play for Real Madrid. In-Madrid.com has a section advertising flat shares and furnished rooms.

Habibi downloaded the current ads, and I composed a standard email which I could then amend according to whether the ad was for a flat (piso) or a bedroom (habitación) in a shared flat (piso compartído) and whether said habitación was individual or doblé, or we could do one or two rooms on our budget. For the entertainment of anyone who speaks español, I enclose my best efforts:

Hi there.

I saw your ad in In-Madrid.com. My husband and I are looking for a room for a month, while we look for other, more permanent accommodation, and your room sounds ideal. Is it still available, and if so, can we come and see it? We can come today.

We are a professional couple, English, and fully house-trained!

This is my email address, but I have to go to a locutorio to check my email. If you would like to call me on my mobile, my number is 123456789. Could you let me know what rent you are asking?



Hola.

Estoy buscando un habitacion para mi, y mi marido, para un mes. Somos profesionales, limpias y responsables.

Es su habitacion tambien disponible? Podemos visitar hoy. Este es mi email, pero es mas facil si usted puede llamar a mi movil, nombre: 123456789. Que es el precio, por favor?


Hasta luego,


Mama Pata

P.S. I apologise for the errors in my Spanish!

The next step was to phone the people who didn’t give email addresses. Trepidation: replying to ads (anuncios) in in-Madrid and Segundomano (daily small ads mag) submitted in español……ulp!

Lots of pauses and repetition, (and answerphone messages! Never thought about having to leave messages!) plus deep gratitude that those who answered the phone a) were generally patient and good-humoured, and b) could, in some cases, speak English!

We ended up looking at this place, in the area we wanted, at 10 o’clock last night, after the very kind keyholder finished work. Done deal. Went for a drink round the corner afterwards to celebrate. Turns out he used to work in Saudi and Britain – and he’s French, by the way – so we had plenty to talk about.


Today (Thursday, August 9th)we packed, checked out of Hotel Agumar, handed over a month’s rent for this place, took possession of FIVE keys, and moved in. And it’s lovely. A couple of hundred years old, small and quite noisy, but perfect for us for now.

Two negatives: there is a knack to opening the street door, and we were stuck out in the sun for nearly 10 minutes improvising wrist action and tactical pulls and pushes, before a neighbour appeared and demonstrated The Knack. Huh. I’m going to practise after sunset.

And (Neg2) we’re not sure where the light switch is in the lobby, which does a pretty good impression of Stygian gloom as soon as the fine Mediterranean solid wood street door closes: Habibi tripped with his hands full and hit his face on the stairs. He’s fine, if somewhat grazed and bruised, but it was horrible at the time. If only he’d tripped over a goat or chicken, it would have the makings of one of those jolly place-in-the-sun anecdotes, but unfortunately, central Madrid is notably lacking in farmlife, so no publishing deal so far. But no sticking plasters either, so not too bad.

Anyway, tenemos un piso exterior, pequeño, mucha luz, suelo parquet, con televisión, amueblada, , baño con ducha, cocina equipada. A cinco minutos a pie de Metro y parada de autobus. €800 gastos incluidos. And, just for the record, somos gente limpia, y responsable. (We have a nice furnished flat, €800 a month, all in).

It´s a sign......









piso pequeño y bonito







.....with really good....








...security.....













Greetings from our bit of Madrid!

Techie!

Technomoron makes good! I am in Sunny Scunny helping my Daddyo set up his blog. We're struggling with the profile pic, but basically, it works. Yeeha!
....................... need tea......... :)

Flu with deadline

have flu and horrible chest thing -
also have Flukit, cough medicine, antibiotics-
am totally disgusting swamp creature snuffling & hacking in disorderly nest of bedding and tissues -
am very soory for self and grateful for Habibi -
if survive combined effects of lurgy and medication, will be lurgy-free by 03.30 takeoff a week today -
otherwise could go cargo -
either way, good to go - snrghlfngggghrflnghgh......

totally irresponsible to take lurgy to public place for long leaving do yesterday -
so nice but next victim(s) will be cursing that bloody woman in a few days' time.
Oh dear.

so much to do, so little interest

better tomorrow

Thanks, Dad.

This weekend we...

.....went out for lunch on Friday at 2. John did Lamb. With beetroot. And gem squash. Never liked beetroot before. Never had gem squash before. Yum.
Cheryl made The Trifle! .......returned from lunch on Saturday at 12.30 a.m. It was a very fine lunch!
........oh ...... and we packed a bit.

......Actually, I packed a bit, in between cups of tea and forays into Blogger & Facebook, while Habibi got on with his novel - 48,500 words so far - woohoo!

Mudbath

No, it's not me. Whoever she is, she's having a very good time!

Packing

Home

Sweet

Transit Camp

It'll be fine.......

Aesthetic Prosthetics

This has been a very special month. My darling senior students were graduating on the 2nd in cap & gown, and then: The Prom!

High School proms are an American institution, and though they might now be a feature of English school life, they certainly weren't when I was at school.

So, I decided to make this my Prom, and then set out, in what I laughingly (LOL!) call my mature years, to get ready for a wonderful night out among these young, talented, drop dead gorgeous 18 year-olds poised triumphant on the dizzying brink of independence.

Hm, there was a possibility that I might not quite blend discreetly into this canvas of breath-taking glamour and pulchritude. This might take a little work.

From frog to prince, from sow's ear to silk purse(?!), from Shrek to - er - handsome Shrek - there are precedents for this kind of transformation, but most have involved a fairy godmother and the suspension of disbelief. I would need help.

I would need to go shopping. I would need to go to the beauty salon....... and the hair salon...... and the cloth soukh....... and the tailors.... teehee!

Now, I am not usually very interested in make-up, jewellery and shoes; and shopping just does not do it for me at all - unless it involves Magrudy's, Borders or Virgin. However, in the last six weeks, I have discovered - nay - unleashed! - a whole new side to my character: and it is entirely frivolous. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Pass the gilded invitations, the platinum card, the diamond mine: the diva has arrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiived!

I blame that nice young lady at the beauty salon, who constructed and painted the most wicked long nails for me, a full four days before the Prom. Four days in which I couldn't wash up in case I chipped my Nails. Nor, as I soon discovered, could I fasten my shoes, or all my buttons, or pick up small objects, or turn pages easily, or write legibly. And if you've had an email from me in the last few weeks, you wouldn't believe how long it took to achieve typo-free communication before I learnt to tippety-tapdance across the keys!

The restrictions were mildly frustrating, til I realised how incredibly strong these things are, and how tough nail polish has become.

Oh, it was so much fun waving my fabulous manicure at admiring colleagues and students at school, and I found that my gestures expanded as the days passed, as I half-consciously exhibited the little work of art at the tip of each finger.

Of course, two weeks after The Prom, it was The Omars.

And the invitation said 'Look Divine'.

Cancel the planned trim to lengths commensurate with packing up a department and an apartment and doing ...... erm.... normal life! And get down to the mall for some new nail polish!

One can hardly wear the same clothes for a fortnight; but when one's Nails are a Feature, how can one wear clothes that clash? Clearly, one must have either a new wardrobe, or some new nail polish. Naturally, one does recognise the dangers of excess: polish it is, m'dears.

(Habibibaba is, of course, breathless with gratitude and admiration at my demonstration of uxorial rectitude and thrift.)

And now, in pictures:

Scary Nails

Prom Nails

A New Obsession
Hahahahaha! Somebody stop me!

Omars Nails (dahlings)

- and now -

Packing Nails....... (actually, Removing Drawing Pins from Wall Display Nails) sigh....
Back to normal, then.

...but just below the surface there lingers.......

a Diva......

When did you last see your blog?

Um, May 19th. A month ago!

So, where have I been?
At work.
At home.
At the high school prom.
At the drama group Omars.
On Facebook..........

And what have I been doing?

Having my hair done.
Having my nails done.
Having my teeth done.
Shopping for silk clothes and satin cloth and goddessy gauze.
Shopping for shoes, accessories and jewellery.
Shopping for make-up and nail polish.
Having a ball.
Researching the novel.
Writing the novel.
Writing applications.
Writing references and testimonials (for other people!)
Saying goodbye.
Getting hugged.
Looking forward to leaving Dubai.
Feeling wistful about leaving friends, colleagues, students (interchangeable terms).
Starting the hand-over to my successor at work.
Swapping plans with departing friends and colleagues.
Issuing invitations to mi casa, when I 've got one.
Discovering Facebook as a really good way to avoid losing contact in the blur of ex-pat leaving.
Planning goodbye breakfasts, coffees, lunches, dinners.
Emptying bookcases.
Sorting Stuff.
Taking stock.
Focusing.
Anticipating.
Feeling happy, excited, liberated.
Talking to my family in Europe, where I shall soon be living.
Missing blogging, and bloggers.

We're leaving soon,
Bye bye............... :D

Magritte and me

And Bjork, Tina Brown, Goldie Hawn and Voltaire! All born on November 21st.

All Scorpios,

and therefore

'a unique mix of playfulness and passion. Although [we] can light up a room with our sunny personalit[ies], [we] are also determined, deep, and ambitious. [We] will often deliberate on a problem for some time, and then ignore our analyses and jump into a decision impulsively. Our desires are deep, and [we] want to experience life on all levels. No one can rightfully label [us] superficial!'

(Ok, enough of the []s!)

Also, there's the little matter of 'Sun Conjunct Toliman.

This fixed star has a Venus-Jupiter influence, and suggests we have a great love of freedom, we make friends easily, we possess strength of character, we have refined tastes, and we are tenacious and determined. Enviousness is a potential downfall when expressed negatively. Our spiritual growth is important to us, and we revel in learning the lessons of experience and of life itself.'

And,

'Our progressed Sun enters Aquarius at age 60. The ages of 59 to 61 mark a critical turning point in the development of our personalities. We become more humanitarian, somewhat detached, and independent. Some may become self-righteous and fixed during this phase, while others learn to detach themselves from situations and loosen up. We kick up our heels and enjoy life with a certain level of detachment and confidence that we hadn't discovered before this time.'

Furthermore,

'Born on the 21st day of the month, which reduces to a 3, we radiate warmth, enthusiasm, and good cheer, and others are instinctively drawn to us. We enjoy people immensely, and we light up a room when we enter it. We are entertaining and charming conversationalists, always ready for a good time, and we thrive on conviviality. Factoring in the 11th month of November, we are number 5s, suggesting that we are multi-talented and we have an unmistakable independent streak.'

Hmmmm........... It doesn't sound bad, does it? My mother always said I was wonderful. I like the bit about turning 60!

Just one thing. There's a breakdown of levels and types of attraction. Here's Habibi and me:

'On-again, off-again attraction. This is a complex connection, and you make an odd yet interested (ing?) couple. April 17-21, June 17-21, October 20-24, December 20-24'

Double Hmmmm........... Sounds like married life to me!

And where did I find all this? Drop into Cafe Astrology, fellow traveller, and see for yourself!

Then again, there's this version, but it obviously only applies to men!

On the other hand, given that I'm job-hunting at the start of a new life (and Hilaroscope is a Spanish website - Is it a sign?!?!?!), perhaps I should consider their recommendations, you know? Get out of the rut? Forget conventional wisdom, and pursue something I have a real affinity for?

How to maximise my potential, that's the question.

Politician, banker, entrepreneur or assassin?

I'll have to think about it.

Me and Magritte

I came across a print of 'The Human Condition', by Rene Magritte, in a textbook recently. I can't say that I like it, exactly, but it strikes me as a a visual metaphor for blogging. I did an online search. Voila.




















Here's a variation, which reminds me of Edward Hopper's sunnier work.













I liked these very much.


































And how about this as a cross between a medieval painting, and a Harvey Nicks Christmas window?

A la Recherche des Taxis Perdus

I find that the process of leaving feels similar to the process of settling. Our imminent departure re-invests the now familiar landscape and personnel of daily life with all the vivid detail it had in the early years; storing faces and places, stirring memories and inviting comparisons. We’ve been here almost thirteen years, and in a few weeks we’ll be gone. Coo!

When we first arrived here from England, everything was new, strange, and full of promise, and I soaked up all the details of my new environment. Riding through Karama, Satwa and Jumeirah with a tourist map open beside me, en route for the personal landmarks of Habibi’s office, Habibibaba’s school, the British Council, Magrudy’s, Jumeirah Beach and Creekside Park, I took in the grid layout of compounds and apartment buildings, punctuated by pastel-toned villas plonked on sandy lots like shopping bags dumped on a kitchen floor; I squinted at street signs, perplexed by the incomprehensible numbering system, and intrigued by the complexities of names like ‘Al Ittihad Street’, ‘Al Wasl Road’ and ‘Khaled bin Al Waleed Street’. What did ittihad and wasl mean? Who was Khaled bin Al Waleed? What a sense of achievement came from getting my mouth around these, and being understood! Then there was the next level, learning the ‘real’ names, all based on landmarks or a concentration of activity: Irani Hospital Road, Bank Street, the plant souk, computer souk, Bidet Roundabout, Budgie Roundabout, Defence Roundabout, Satwa Racetrack etc. One day, to my surprise, the straggling web of one-way streets resolved itself into a mental map of a familiar town that was quite lot smaller than it had first appeared – the way a film always seems much shorter, the second time you watch it.

Since then, of course, the town has expanded into a city, and outgrown pet-names. Ramada Roundabout has become a crossroads, Abela Supermarket, whose memory lingered as Old Abela Supermarket through a couple of incarnations – Habitat & a Natural Health Supermarket – conjures up a time and atmosphere, rather than a T junction on Al Wasl Road, and as for Defence Roundabout, notable for its distinctive cruciform, and a definite military……. absence….., that’s Intersection 2!

We’ve also seen the closure of the small private cab companies and one-man operations, and the development of a centrally controlled, metered taxi network employing thousands of men to work twelve-hour shifts. I’m a big fan of road-worthy, air-conditioned vehicles, and most of the drivers are nice guys, but you don’t get the best out of a driver who’s underpaid, tired and stressed. I used to sit in the front seat because I like an unobstructed view and I like to chat, but these days, it’s more like riding shotgun. Unfavourite experiences on a 10-12 lane highway at 120 km/ph: tailgating; ‘precision’ overtaking, mobile phone use; the driver with one hand on the wheel and the other supporting his eyelids; having the radio on really loud to keep him awake.

Ah, I remember the olden days.

Taxis were safer back then, when they couldn’t get out of second gear without the engine falling out. I remember acetate silk roses, velour dashboard covers and gilded plastic tissue box covers offsetting the general grime of the interiors. Wind-down air-conditioning. Concave seating. Maroon vinyl and transparent plastic. Grey sheepskin on the back sill. The family photos tucked behind the sunshade. I remember conversations with men who’d been here for years, about home, family, and other taxi drivers (‘Too many Irani’ confides the Afghan; ‘Too many Afghani.’ the Iranian grins.). I remember the richly textured olfactory adventure of hot rubber, hot oil, ancient vinyl, carbon monoxide, mildew, My Shaldan in Citron, Rose or Strawberry, and the accumulation of years one man’s sweat, cigarettes and lunchbreaks. Vive la nostalgie…….

Digital Photography 101

Step 1. Purchase DC (Digital Camera).

Step 2. RTFM (Read the For-Heaven's-Sake Manual).

Step 3. Insert B (Batteries)

Step 4. Select S (Subject).

Step 5. Research VP (Vantage Point).

Step 6. Monitor AC (Atmospheric Conditions).

Step 7. When AC appear optimal, place self and DC at VP.

Step 8. Press small button to switch on DC.
(If this step fails, go to nearest supermarket and buy the expensive B this time. Repeat Step 8.) (Cheapskate.)

Step 9. Point DC at S.

Step 10. Shoot.

Works every time.

(Actually, I had a little help with this one.)

Foreign Movies

I failed to mention Marion Cotillard who played Fanny Chenal in A Good Year. Gorgeous and talented.




What brings her to mind again is a piece in the newspaper about the French language film La Môme (La Vie En Rose in the US - opening in June, but previewing now) It's a biography of Edith Piaf, with Marion Cotillon apparently wonderful in the title role. I like Edith Piaf. I shall watch this movie when it comes out.











I've been looking out for Spanish movies - from Spain rather than Latin America - in Virgin. Penelope Cruz is not just a pretty (sorry - I mean drop-dead gorgeous) face. She works in Spanish, English & French: I know this because Virgin has at least two French language films with her in - and no Spanish ones at all!

And while I'm here - I really enjoyed Sabah, a grown-up Syrian-Canadian variation on My B.F.Greek Wedding. Written and directed Ruba Nadda, it stars the Lebanese actress Arsinée Khanjian who, in addition to being an established talent in her own right, is married to director Atom Egoyan. I'm going to look out for all three of those names in future - but I've promised myself - and Habibi - not to buy any more DVDs or books for the remaining 10 weeks (TEN WEEKS!) of our sojourn here.

Up to this point, though, I thought that all Arab movies were slapstick comedies featuring rubber-faced moustachioed men leaping about in their dishdashas. Actually, that's not true, because there are lots of Arab movies on satellite, but they seem stuck in a timewarp to me - though I'm probably tuning in to Arab Classic Movies.

Still, it's good to see a mainstream English language movie based in Arab culture: after a dozen years here, the arab-western mix is part of my way of life, so I really appreciate some straightforward cinematic storytelling that reflects this. Sabah is not, of course, an Arab movie: it's a cross-cultural piece which inevitably brings to mind other movies about immigrant identity and culture - such as Bend It Like Beckham, MBFGW, and Bhaji on the Beach; but we need cross-cultural film-makers.

I haven't lived in the Middle East, in this extraordinarily cosmopolitan town, for a dozen years, just to put all my experience and discoveries in a box marked 'Foreign' when I go back to Europe. These are not postcard memories to be brought out for visitors, but part of who I am, as English as I am. And I want to see movies that address that.

Uh-oh. Blogging past my bedtime again.

A Good Movie

We just watched Ridley Scott's latest: A Good Year, which has had reviews of the 'nice, predictable, old-man's-going-soft' variety.







It's got Russell Crowe - usually a good sign.





It's got Albert Finney - usually to die for - and Freddie Highmore - also a good sign.




Also Tom Hollander, who I really liked as Mr Collins in the Not-the-BBC Pride & Prejudice.
And Archie Panjabi, who I've never seen before, but will look out for in future.
And Didier Bourdon, Isabelle Candelier and Jacques Herlin as the entertaining live-in force-to-be-reckoned-with. (I've read all the Spanish-based versions of this story!)

It's got French light, French stone, French je-ne-sais-quoi, an entertaining screenplay and some satisfying camera-work. Yeah, of course we were fairly sure how it would end - but it was fun watching it work itself out.

We liked it.

Another animation from YouTube

The Great Esc. For all the laptop addicts!

Kiwi

Kiwi!

sniff

Thanks, Brodie

Law and Justice on Sexual Abuse

This is a comment (slightly tidied up) which I posted in response to another blogger's comment on the howl of anguish and rage that I posted yesterday in the UAE Community Blog, and subsequently wrote about here:

It has been established for decades that people in positions of care or authority who sexually abuse children find strategies - psychological or physical - to prevent their victims from speaking about it.

Even if the judges were not aware of this, surely it is relevant that a grown man, resident in the girls' home, used a knife to get what he wanted?
Surely it should be recognised that the man who is capable of using a knife to force four adolescent girls in his care into incest and adultery, as they are defined here, would have no hesitation about intimidating them with reminders of the legal penalties for 'their' actions, should the authorities ever find out?
Surely, in a region which places such emphasis on female honour, there should be some understanding of how ashamed these girls would feel, and how reluctant to speak of their shame to anyone?
And surely, someone should have given serious thought to the climate of apprehension, shame and fear that this man must have created in that household, and the cumulative effect on those girls as they saw their turn coming, across a span of twelve years?

Doesn't the combination of an abusive stepfather, a helpless or complicit mother, and a wall of silence surrounding the birth of eleven children suggest how helpless and hopeless these girls must have felt?
Shouldn't all this raise serious doubts about how much choice, control, and therefore culpability can be ascribed to them?

With hindsight, would the youngest sister still report her stepfather to the police?
Do the four older girls think that their new 'freedom' is worth the cost?

The sentence of death by stoning will no doubt deter some potential offenders from sexually abusing children in their care. Unfortunately, there will always be those who think that they can get away with it; and now they have a new weapon to encourage silent submission: eighty lashes if you tell.

Therefore, I will hope for a review of the law through which this case was prosecuted, and the drafting of guidelines for judges who have to rule in such cases, these guidelines to be informed by proper research into the effect of longterm intimidation, and physical and/or sexual abuse on adults and minors.

Thoughts, anyone?

Death and Lashes

Yesterday I read a Gulf News article about the tragic outcome of a fire in Sharjah. It states that the mother panicked, and dropped the children from their 8th floor apartment in order to save them. One died, and one is in hospital.

This Emirates Today front page article of the day before explains that the reason she couldn't get out was that her husband, as was his custom, had locked her and the children in when he went to work. Apparently this is a common practice. He'd changed the lock too, without telling, or leaving a duplicate with, the watchman.

That poor woman has enough guilt to live with, Gulf News. She didn't panic - she threw her sons down to the crowd below, saving one. Maybe if the police had been there in under half an hour, or the fire brigade in under forty five minutes, things might have been different. (Shades of the recent Al Attar fire which started at about 4.15 a.m. but didn't attract a fire crew til 6 or 7 - What is going on in this country of multiplying high-rises?) Maybe if her husband had not locked her in.

Today there was this.

I don't hold with stoning, for reasons I'm too sad to go into after these stories. But if I'd met the judges who sentenced those girls, in the half hour after I'd read the second article - assuming I could stop crying long enough to see straight - I think I'd have cast a few stony opinions.

Both of these men were cast in the role of protector, the ultimate authority in the lives of the 'their' women and children. Yet when they abused their authority, one deliberately, one through fuzzy thinking, both the judges and the Gulf News writer - one after long deliberation, and the other with a, perhaps thoughtless, choice of words - assigned blame to the protegees.

Female children should have the protection of law.
Male and female adults should have equal status in law and practice.
Male and female adults should be prepared to give, take, and accept equal responsibility in personal relationships, especially when it comes to raising families.

Then we can start dishing out equal blame for crime and stupidity.

Damn!

As a formula for the day-to-day business of living with each other and raising a family, mutual respect, consultation, consent, and compromise may be a pain in the ass at times; but it does spread the load, and provide a check for the more foolish decisions that one tired or over-conscientious person might come up with alone. Like locking up his wife for her own protection.

As for the law.

And those who interpret it.

Well.

I'm looking for an upbeat one-liner, but I've broken my rose-tinted specs. Sorry.

3 Rs and a Screwdriver

I've been a bit busy lately, with

Reading: an interesting mix of fact and fiction as research for

Riting: The Nobble. It exists as research notes, a family thicket, a timeline, and a few - um - scenes. This may take some time.....

and Rithmetic:

One million aches: 1 megahurtz

Basic unit of laryngitis: 1 hoarsepower

Time between slipping on a peel and smacking the pavement:
1 bananosecond

1 million microphones: 1 megaphone

2000 mockingbirds: two kilomockingbirds

1 millionth of a fish: 1 microfish

1 trillion pins: 1 terrapin

1 million billion picolos: 1 gigolo

10 cards: 1 decacards

10 rations: 1 decoration

10 millipedes: 1 centipede

2 monograms: 1 diagram

8 nickels: 2 paradigms

2 wharves: 1 paradox

(OK, so the last bit's just padding, but it's fun. Some of these appear on a Teacher's Day-to-View calendar, but you'll find more here.)

Actually, there's not been much writing either, except of the Application-Form-plus-CV-and-Supporting-Letter variety. I used to think that a CV was a simple record of what one has been doing. Pshaw! What a foolish notion!

As any CV-writing website - and there are several out there - will demonstrate, a CV is a delicately balanced tool with as many potential variations as a screwdriver, and the jobseeker must choose the appropriate one in order to gain access to the potential (pause for swift intake of breath and adjustment of tone to reverential) employer.

Hmm... Screwdriver: connotations of DIY, shaken-not-stirred, breaking-&-entering, taking-&-driving-away. Sometimes I am troubled by my subsconscious........

OK I don't want to jerry his Jag, roger his Rover, or do anything at all to his Beemer. I just want an interview.

So I'll stop worrying about (a) Slotted, (b) Phillips, (c) Pozidriv, (d) Torx, (e) Hex key, (f) Robertson, (g) Tri-Wing, (h) Torq-Set, (i) Spanner

Thank you Wikipedia ..........and.... I'd better go hone a new metaphor....... I mean key.

So, first read over your CV file, which you have of course diligently reviewed every six months since you completed your education, sometime in the last millennium. (You haven't? Well, pshaw to you too!).

Now, what exactly do you want to do with it? (Sorry. What is your objective?) Do you want to apply for a job in the same field?......... in a different field?............ apply for a particular job vacancy?

Does your CV fit the bill? Yes?

Brrrrrrringggggg! Go straight to style*.

(Er, what?

Later*.

OK.)

If not, what's the problem? Underqualified? Overqualified? Too young? Too old? Unemployed? Fired? Gaps? Inexperienced? Criminal record? No degree?

Don't fret. Be positive. It's not just what you've done, it's what it says about your character, strengths, and potential value to the employer lucky enough to land you. It's not just what you say, it's also how you say it. It's not just what you put down, it's how you lay it out.

Et cetera!

And now, balanced precariously as you are between optimism about your innate fabulousness, and anxiety about the intricacies of the above, perhaps you would like to consider whether the appropriate style* for your CV is: Chronical, Targeted, Combination, CV, Inventory or Functional?

_____________________________________________________________

OK. I've stopped.

Speaking as someone for whom the term career might have been invented (Consider it as a verb rather than a noun.....) I present a bit of a conundrum for a prospective employer with formal procedures and conventional expectations. I have been involved for an extreeeeeeeemely long time in community work, community arts and arts education; sometimes it's been paid work, sometimes not; sometimes freelance, sometimes on contract; but always productive and satisfying. Add to that the fact that, for over a decade, virtually every project or contract has come via referral, and the CV has been something of a formality; and it becomes apparent why, this close to my 50th birthday, I find myself consulting websites on how to fill in a CV that conveys all of the above as energetic, multi-faceted, etc. rather than...... something less marketable....

It's actually been a very interesting exercise. In common, I think, with most people, I find networking and self-promotion quite unsettling, but I do understand that if you don't lay out your stall properly, potential customers will pass you by. When it comes to creating what I sincerely hope will be an effective CV, it's at least as stimulating as a sudoku puzzle - and I like sudoku! What gets me is not the listing and highlighting, the boxing and bordering, and the honest business of selling the product (me!). It's the gimmickry of goal statements and what I shall call dynamic jargon.

Habibi regularly receives emailed CVs (or biodata - not a term I'd heard of til I came here)

......

OK: tangent time!

(It did not bother me that a company that I used to work for counted its employees as 'work units'. It was a big, well-run, 24/7 company, and no-one ever actually called me Work-Unit 2222 to my face. However, quite apart from the fact that the term 'biodata' does not strike the ear with either the self-confidence of 'CV' or the gravitas of 'curriculum vitae', it says 'Work Unit' to me.

It says that the person who puts this term at the top of her written representation of herself has been conditioned to see herself as a mere cog, a drone. That kind of conditioning would also explain the whipped puppy eagerness of the 'goal statements' which pant across the page, scattering 'Pat me! Pat me!' promises in all directions.

I'm out of practice. This is coming out sour, and, I think, disingenuous. If you come from a relentlessly competitive background, an employment culture of survival of the fittest, and have seen both the rewards of success and the price of failure, then of course you will have absorbed the attitudes, and the language, which such a culture generates. But it can be counterproductive if recruiters from other cultures read it through their own cultural filters. My English reluctance to sell-sell-sell would probably play as arrogance or complacency to a recruiter from an aggressively go-getter culture. Let the Games begin!

Exit Tangent now. Do not pass Gravitas. Collect Jargon.)

...As I was saying, Habibi regularly receives emailed CVs (or biodata!) couched in extraordinary language, much of it mishspooled. I've already dissed goal statements (In the tangent. If you skipped it - sorry!), but let me get to what I'm calling dynamic jargon.

I have two sections entitled 'Responsibilities' and 'Achievements'. Fine. So I'm responsible for this, that and the other, and have achieved the other, that and this. Yes? No!

But it's true!

Yes, but it doesn't convey your energy, your focus, your achievements!

......m-my ..responsibilities....?

Such as?

Erm, administration, stocktaking, bareback-riding, disembowelment..

No, no, no! You must be more dynamic!

?

#$(%^&!!!! (sigh) Have you considered - enabling? facilitating? maximisingoptimising?

I -

inititatinginstigatingimplementingintegrating?!

Actually I -

Incubatingresonatingtabulating?!

?!

Inflitratingexculpatingcoruscatingmasticatingsyncopatingadumbrating! Calibrating! Amputating! Mutilating! Flagellating!

VACATING!

- I beg your..... Where did she go?

So, dynamic jargon. I know it's just the current convention, and presumably it indicates some level of professionalism to HR personnel awash in a CV sea, but I suspect that it started off as someone's strategy to make sure she stood out from the crowd. Now we all have to do it!

By the way, I shamelessly cannibalised fairly typical advice from a variety of sites. The one I recommend, and include some terms from, is CVTips.com. They are not to blame for the way I used said terms: I really did need guidance on how to put a CV together, and theirs is the most straightforward and thorough of the bunch. There are some typos here and there, but the advice is realistic, and free, and they have templates in different styles and for different purposes. Don't hold any of the above against them!

circulatingpropagatingcelebratingvalidating...hallucinating..medicating