I don't know if I am coming or going at the moment. Work is really, really busy. I mean, I am still doing a kind of nine to five thing, but while I am there I am up to my ears.
Anyone would think that's what they pay me for. Tch.
So, by way of making sure I get a short break, I have plugged myself into my iPod* and am doing my blog.
One advantage of the "desk, team and phone in different ends of the building" fiasco is that I am walking around a lot more. Can't be bad. I haven't been to the gym for at least a month, so any exercise is better than nothing. Even clutching at straws must burn a few calories.
At least I have been in the office all week, which makes life easier. Apart from Monday, when I was in Bristol. Mind you, with all the scaremongering stories about fuel going up to £2.30 a litre, maybe I'll resign because I won't be able to afford the 70 miles a day driving here and back.
Or, less drama-queenishly, perhaps Mr WithaY and I can carshare more.
Although I prefer the sound of the "not having to go to work any more" option, to be honest.
Had a fab guitar lesson last night. We are off to a party** later in the month and I have been asked to bring my guitar, so we were going through various songs which might be suitable for a lovely summer party. My teacher suggested that REM's "Everybody Hurts" might not be a party song. We'll see.
I did a version of The Boxtop's "The Letter" which, although I say so myself, I sang the shit out of. If I could just remember the chords, it would be perfect.
Also. Have been invited to join the band for a few songs when they do a show in August, which I am very much looking forward to. My enthusiasm took a slight dip when my guitar teacher told me that the last time they did a similar show, the Windsor Hell's Angels turned up. So that could be interesting.
Back in the day, there were a few scary close encounters with various bike gangs, although I don't think I ever met a fully-fledged Angel. Apart from one, who became a very dear friend, and he'd been one back in the 1960s and 70s, so I think was more or less retired. If they can retire. I have no idea.
Anyhoo. The dress code on the ticket for the event says "Leather". I sold my leathers when we sold the bike. I might wear a pink fluffy cardigan and pearls, see what happens.
Right. Time to do all my expenses claims. Work must owe me about a million pounds by now.
*Which I like because I can pretend to be a cyborg.