The Last Goodbye

Izzie has been in Zombieland for the last week or so but today was the worst of the worst.
It was a good start to the day - 6 minutes to do a silly online quiz that allows us 20. Yet again the Iz did not print out the relevant stuff (it is open book after all) but unlike last time had the brains to read it all online first and then take the quiz. So for 6 minutes work got the princely total of 8/10. Just could not help but think that between the two so far is a grand total of 15 points out of a possible 20. All this for the investment of about 20 minutes reading plus the 10-12 mins it took to actually do the thingie compared to the 30 hours plus for that auditing assignment that only got 14.5. Most ridiculous really. Strange too how it seems to be an unalterable rule that the most interesting subjects invariably are taught by a Professor Binns wannabee. Last term it was "Strategic Games" and this term "Accounting and the Internet - with all sorts of stuff about boring beans and wicked wigs online. Today we even had a case involving those creatures much beloved of the Cat. Not Microsoft but Paypal. The judges were not too impressed with their 30 page online terms and conditions of contract. Iz wonders if they are still 30 pages. As long as there is no silver sickles involved -and especially when using untraceable computers - is not too much harm in clicking on the 'I accept' button for dodgy online contracts - but next time Iz will be somewhat more wary. Constant Vigilance is called for.

After nearly being bored to tears by Binnsie with his insufferably twee overheads with hideous sound effects and colour schemes that would only be seen in hell, next event on the Izzie agenda was the memorial service for Claire who died on Saturday. Unfortunately as the Iz was supposed to be working at 3pm - would not be able to stay too long and was going to get a lift with another of the house elves who was also on duty tonight. Three of the four of us on duty this evening were at the service.
Got a bus and arrived about 40 mins before the 2pm start. Went for a potter around the area. It is an old suburb quite close to the Dursleyville city centre but is zoned single house residential. Many of the old weatherboard houses still remain - many coloured strange shades of green, blue, brown or even pink and are just absolutely exquisite. Infinitely more soulful and homely than those pathetic poseur pseudo Tuscany style pompous crap new mansions that break every law of aesthetics and only aspire to enormity and vulgarity.

But things took a turn for the worse when Dolores (The Izzie boss) arrived with her entourage - an army of blond blue eyed Aryan bitches - smokers to the last stinking one of them. She could not help but make some snide remark asking if Iz rode her bike to the service. There was Maureen Lockhart (The last bit is not her real name but so apt and utterly accurate) and the mean weedy snooty bat Jenny (looks and acts like a card carrying member of the BDM) and a few others of her ilk. Folks that Iz had not expected ever to meet again for the rest of her life and certainly had no desire to. The only one missing was the Troll who left at the beginning of March and by now has probably also got herself her dream job at Abu Ghraib.
Silly really to allow myself to get upset by the sight of them. I guess some of them really did like Claire and were not just there for the sake of keeping up appearances. But I guess - things that normally wouldn't make you bat an eyelid - when the defences are down - you become so much more sensitive and less able to protect yourself from the oozing malice and the stench of stale tobacco.
But the real insult came at the end of the service when our dearest Dolores says to Donna and the Iz (both of us who would be working that afternoon)Oh Claire would not have approved of you staying and would have wanted you to do your duty. (Ie piss off and get to work and let me stay and stuff myself silly with all the nibblies and smoke my stinking little lungs out)
We were going anyway but this was just a nasty vicious uncalled for comment. Iz spent the evening brooding over that among other things. You know how you always think of a reply later - though Dolores is the sort of person who would sack you if you said it - just got to thinking that HER official rostered DUTY time is 8am to 4.30 pm - so what was SHE doing out of the office neglecting her duty?
Hypocritical bitch!
( More misery )

So Iz is going to have to scrounge around for some 100% cocoa mass bars of chocolate or some other less tasty and less fattening defence against Dementors. Nasty Stinking things.

But before going - a final dedication to Claire - a most marvellous and magnanimous Middle Earthling who is now gone but certainly not forgotten. That is the strangest thing of all - to be able to imagine and remember some one so clearly and so vividly as if they were in the same room as yourself but to know that it can no longer be so and to get used to that awful fact.
Iz never did get to visit her hometown in the far north of the North Island but did get to a very strange and magical place just on the outskirts of Auckland. And Iz will always associate the place with this most spooky song.

One Tree Hill by U2
We turn away to face the cold, enduring chill
As the day begs the night for mercy love
The sun's so bright it leaves no shadows
Only scars carved into stone
On the face of earth
The moon is up and over One Tree Hill
We see the sun go down in your eyes

You run like river, on like a sea
You run like a river runs to the sea

And in the world a heart of darkness
A firezone
Where poets speak their heart
Then bleed for it
Jara sang, his song a weapon
In the hands of love
You know his blood still cries
From the ground

It runs like a river runs to the sea
It runs like a river to the sea

I don't believe in painted roses
Or bleeding hearts
While bullets rape the night of the merciful

I'll see you again
When the stars fall from the sky
And the moon has turned red
Over One Tree Hill