Grrrrrrr, the Vinkasaur roars!

There are not enough hours in the day to achieve everything. Short of cloning myself (which is not wise, the world is not ready for two Vickys!) I shall just have to soldier on. As such, sleep deprivation is the norm and I am becoming a total insomniac. Telly is rubbish at 3am, radio is rubbish at 3am and being awake is rubbish at 3am :(

Several ideas have been put forward to alleviate my sleeping (or lack thereof) issues:

1 A mobile (not phone, but the whirly animal things that hang over a cot) I immediately rejected this idea on the basis that it will probably keep me awake even more by wanting to play with it!

2 Soft and soothing music. Even Selected Ambient Works is not doing it for me (Volume 1 or 2!!)

3 Reading. I am currently reading (or attempting to read) The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas. I will be awake sobbing and visualising Auschwitz, so have rejected this idea on those grounds.

My own idea is a combination of a mallet and chloroform. It's foolproof! I may be left with minor concussion or increased headaches but if it means I get some sleep, it's a risk I'm willing to take. A tired Vinkasaur is a grouchy Vinkasaur :(

A dilemma approacheth

Anyone who knows me will know that I do a lot of work for charity. In fact, most of the work I do is for charity being that I only work for 15 hours a week. I love what I do - always have done.

At present there are a load of projects I am juggling. The Dirty South will be launching soon and Southsea Fest ventures are about to kick off in earnest, plus I am helping a group get funding for counselling services, advising on a youth project and there are several charity events I am planning for the rest of the year (more on this at a later date!) There is no doubt that I am busy!

So, when an opportunity arose for me to be the regional coordinator for Refugee Week I was really excited. It's a voluntary post for one day a week between now and July, covering the South and South-East region. The aim is to be the point of contact for RCOs and for the media. I would love it, I'd be really getting my teeth into things but I know that the press enquiries and community group queries will not only happen on a Tuesday from 9 til 5.

I am stretched almost to breaking point as it is, if I took this on too would it be the straw that broke the capybara's back? Technically there simply aren't enough hours in the week for me to take this position but if I don't I would be missing a huge opportunity to enhance my experience, help out the regional Refugee Community Organisations (RCOs) and raise awareness. I find it hard to say no when asked to help but, in truth, I am finding this a difficult decision to make.

Hurtling towards Christmas again.....

So, a week has passed. Already. My Nan always warned me that time flew when you got older but I was not expecting such breakneck speed until I was well into my seventies, clad in chiffon, with 16 cats and a penchant for hairnets. As it is, my birthday seems to come round twice a year and Christmas is neverending! She's a wise woman, my Nan, casting aside her habit for knitting pants for teddies and calling me by every name bar my own :)

In some respects I feel I have skipped a generation entirely and have morphed into Nanny Olive. Aside from my love of tea and cake in the afternoon, I seem to have become more forgetful AND more scathing of popular music. "Chipmunk, in my day that was a small rodent" I do have similarities to my Dad too. I can vividly remember him complaining about how hard it was to replace his vinyl with CDs (what a fogey) and it was only recently I realised I had been doing the exact same things for years with my cassettes - do you *know* how hard it is to get Strangelove on CD?!

Whilst talking to my Mum this week I was frantically looking for my mobile. I turned my whole room upside-down in the hunt (one handed of course) until I realised it was clamped to my ear and I had been talking into it for 30 minutes prior to panic. Lost glasses, forgetting why you've walked into a room - all classic examples of early onset "Nan-ness" Unfortunately, I have not completely transformed into my Nan, as I am without the ability to knit! My poor bears will have to remain naked for the forseeable future....