If wishes were horses…

July is never one of my happier months. I put this down to it being the start of the school holidays; in my case as a youngster that meant not seeing anyone I knew from school for six weeks as we were all bussed in to Holy Family and later to St Benedict’s, so few of us lived around the corner from others.

Also, waiting for the results of academic exams that I would inevitably fail.

The world seems to stop. People go away on holiday. People are about to go away on holiday, and tell you they’ll be in touch when they get back (but then never do). No-one recruits. There’s nothing on the telly.

As an adult I at least had work to look forward to. Don’t have that now, of course. So all of those minor niggles are being magnified.

Oh, how I wish…

I wish I had a job. Not just for the obvious thing of having income coming in but also because I’m utterly fed up of filling in application form after application form. My idea for a machine-readable CV that could be uploaded never took off.

I wish HR teams were better at keeping us supplicants… sorry, applicants better informed. One job I applied for supposedly had interviews last week – no news yet. Are they delayed or are they just waiting for the person they want to appoint to come back from a week away to offer it to them?

I wish people would stop saying “companies will be desperate for comms support during coronavirus, especially in the NHS”. No they aren’t; not even in the NHS.

I wish I didn’t occasionally get nervous and fall apart in interviews for jobs I have a good chance of getting and would actually like to do.

I wish I had a reason to get up in the morning. And a reason to go to bed at a reasonable hour at night. And could actually ever get a decent night’s sleep.

I wish I was being of use, even if not actually employed.

I wish I hadn’t spent the last 30 years as a desk jockey; or that I’d at least tried using my left hand a bit more, so that I wasn’t twisted around and now with a dodgy right knee and hip.

I wish when I put myself out there and offer to help people and organisations that those offers aren’t simply filed. I like to be helpful, and I’m not coming from a position of no experience.

I wish I didn’t keep seeing people announcing on LinkedIn they’d got jobs I’d gone for. Happy for you, of course, but…

I wish people who got jobs I’d gone for were at least as good as me, instead of just being good at passing interviews. That’s not me boasting, I wrote about it before.

I wish LinkedIn wouldn’t keep suggesting jobs “based on my profile” that require me to have my own car, speak Mandarin or live in some random part of the world that isn’t The North (and specifically the God’s Own County part of it).

I wish people wouldn’t spoil me on the F1 result on Twitter. You can afford Sky Sports and Sky Sports F1, fantastic. Don’t rub my nose in it.

I wish I was a little bit taller. I wish I was a baller. I wish I had a girl who looked good; I would call her.

I wish I didn’t have to fill my time by creating things for me to do to keep my mind occupied; such as the new template I did for this site, or research the family tree (now almost finished), or starting writing my second novel as it seemed easier than finishing the first.

I wish I smiled a bit more, and that people would stop telling me to cheer up when they see me.

I wish that my slightly anti-social tendencies weren’t being heightened and exacerbated by coronavirus. If I didn’t know better I’d say I was agoraphobic.

I wish I was more of a bastard. At the very least, a bit more ruthless and self-serving. If I was I probably wouldn’t be writing this.

I wish that Uber driver, of silver Lexus YR15[xxx], would stop using our deliveries space as his personal layover spot.

I wish I knew how to quickly change the clock on my oven, so it isn’t still showing GMT.

I wish I had someone to cook for. To try my cooking out on. They’ve all got wise, over the years…

I wish people wouldn’t say “ooh, haven’t heard from you a while” if I take a break from Facebook or similar. If you were that bothered how I was doing you’d have asked. Others do. I have no desire to live my live on social media.

I wish I could lose a bit of weight. It doesn’t matter what I eat, or don’t eat or how much exercise I do; the dial isn’t moving. Not moving downwards, anyway.

I wish I didn’t have to move out of this flat. Beeston was loads cheaper (and it was my own house) but overlooking the river, with the ducks, swans and the planters on my background, it’s been good for my mental health. But needs must, so I’d better start looking.

I wish I didn’t have sneezing fits after tending to the plants in the planters on my balcony.

I wish I knew then what I know now; although we both know it wouldn’t have made the slightest difference.

I wish I didn’t spend large parts of the day feeling utterly worthless.

I wish I knew where my confidence has gone.

I wish I had something or someone to believe in.

I wish I had someone who believed in me.

But, you know what they say: if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.