Today I have been mostly fed up, and slightly weepy, but that might be because I have woken up at 0530 for the last few days, and it is a pain in the arse, frankly, being this tired.
Was in London today, but lacked the energy to walk anywhere. I only managed to drag my weary carcass across Westminster Bridge before catching the Tube this morning, and then copped out and got the Tube all the way back to Waterloo this evening.
Remembering that there is very little actual food in the house, I decided to call into the supermarket before I came home. In my head, this meant that I would eat a proper supper tonight and have food in the house tomorrow so I can eat sensibly during the day.
I fantasised about picking up a hot roasted chicken and some fresh salad, maybe with some fresh pineapple afterwards. However, at 8pm on a Tuesday night, the supermarket has sold all the hot chickens, cleaned the rotisserie, and is trying to flog off the rock hard baguettes to groups of young Scouse squaddies.
It is not interested in providing a well-chosen and dainty evening repast to a woman who has been travelling for fucking hours.
Supper this evening actually consisted of 2 Scotch eggs, a handful of little tiny cherry tomatoes, and a big glass of flat fizzy water with some lemongrass squash in it. I am waiting for a knock on the door from Jamie Oliver and the food police as I type.
Anyhoo, I was mooching around the place with my little hand basket, biting my lip and feeling sorry for myself, composing a sad, sad blog post in my head about how cruel everything is, and how unbearable, and how awful and lonely, and how much I hate my life. I was in some danger of going emo.
I rounded a corner into the MEAT aisle, and there in front of me was a large, rotund chap dressed in the height of West Wiltshire chic.
He had on a pair of baggy blue tracksuit bottoms, or possibly overalls, tucked into workboots liberally splattered with crud. His huge saggy torso was encased in an ancient, equally saggy, green sweatshirt, also crud-encrusted. Topping off the ensemble was a jaunty black woollen hat, looking much like the teat of a baby's bottle, perched high on his head, emphasising his red cheeks and shiny jowls.
I sighed heavily, thinking how terrible life is when you are faced with such things.
As I dragged myself past him, possibly swinging my arms like Kevin the Teenager, I heard the opening bars of "Oi've got a braaan new comboin aaaarvester". I shook my head, clearly overtired and imagining Wurzels songs in the middle of the supermarket.
But no. Mr West Wiltshire Fashion reached into the pocket of his trousers, pulled out his mobile, and answered it with a huge grin on his face, after letting the Wurzels get almost all the way through the first verse.
It made me laugh out loud, just as soon as I got round the corner, and suddenly life felt less like a hideous struggle.
Other news: Mr WithaY called from his windswept hostel in the remote Welsh countryside, which was lovely. I am missing him very much, and plan to hide his passport when he comes home, just in case. And possibly all his trousers.
Showing posts with label moaning about being tired. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moaning about being tired. Show all posts
Tuesday, 10 March 2009
Wednesday, 9 July 2008
Rain II
It's still raining.
Been a hectic week again and it's only Wednesday. Monday was ridiculous. I left home at 0500, drove to work, met a colleague at 0600, drove to Southampton Airport, caught a flight to Belfast, had lunch, had a meeting, raced back to the airport and caught the 6pm flight home, arriving back chez WithaY at about 9.30pm.
Nightmare.
On the plus side, I met an old friend at Southampton Airport who was on the same flights out and back as we were, so that was fun. He was off to meet with BBC Northern Ireland to try and get them to take up a huuuuuge contract with his firm. Hope they did.
Was hoping to see Manuel on my travels, but no such luck.
Apparently we missed Martin McGuinness at Belfast Airport by about 5 minutes, though.
First time I flew to Edinburgh, the very first person I saw as I walked into the Arrivals Hall was Ewan McGregor. I thought he'd been sent there specially to greet me.
Right. Off to work. God I'm tired. Already.
Must be getting old.
Been a hectic week again and it's only Wednesday. Monday was ridiculous. I left home at 0500, drove to work, met a colleague at 0600, drove to Southampton Airport, caught a flight to Belfast, had lunch, had a meeting, raced back to the airport and caught the 6pm flight home, arriving back chez WithaY at about 9.30pm.
Nightmare.
On the plus side, I met an old friend at Southampton Airport who was on the same flights out and back as we were, so that was fun. He was off to meet with BBC Northern Ireland to try and get them to take up a huuuuuge contract with his firm. Hope they did.
Was hoping to see Manuel on my travels, but no such luck.
Apparently we missed Martin McGuinness at Belfast Airport by about 5 minutes, though.
First time I flew to Edinburgh, the very first person I saw as I walked into the Arrivals Hall was Ewan McGregor. I thought he'd been sent there specially to greet me.
Right. Off to work. God I'm tired. Already.
Must be getting old.
Wednesday, 31 October 2007
Cold
Fucking heating's broken.
Mr WithaY goes away, the boiler decides to break. It is bloody freezing here.
I am tired, lonely, cold and grumpy.
Off to bed to try and get warm. Will hopefully have something worth reporting tomorrow.
Gah.
Mr WithaY goes away, the boiler decides to break. It is bloody freezing here.
I am tired, lonely, cold and grumpy.
Off to bed to try and get warm. Will hopefully have something worth reporting tomorrow.
Gah.
Saturday, 20 October 2007
Hurty paw
Gah! Am typing with one finger encased in huge plasters, after almost slicing the tip off with the world's sharpest knife. Arse. It was so sharp that I didn't realise I'd cut myself for a few moments...it made a horrible "meat slicing" noise and I thought I'd cut the washing up sponge thingy. But no. It was me.
Bled for absolutely ages. Was starting to think I'd need to go to Casualty and get stitched, until I remembered that I have no idea where our nearest Casualty unit is...might entail a 50 minute drive to Salisbury. The strategic application of a wet tea towel and some elevation* sorted it out.
Other news: Been to the Wood Fair at the Larmer Tree Gardens today.
I know, I know. Cheese, Wood, what don't we see at Fairs round here? Took pictures, which I will share in due course.
On the way home we called in to look at carpets for the bedrooms and stairs (how much more exciting can this get, you wonder?), then went and bought teak oil and woodstain. And THEN we repainted the shed, a seat, a fence (and my camellias) and oiled all the garden furniture ready for it to go away over the winter. What busy bees we are.
Off out tonight for supper, watching the rugby with some of our lovely neighbours. Which will be nice, as we're both knackered now after all our painting and oiling activity, so somebody else making us a meal is very welcome.
Still unbelievably tired though, and feeling a bit low and weepy as a result which is a shame. Yesterday was a significant family anniversary, which made the day feel a bit odd and sad. So, a few glasses of wine and some cheerful company is just the ticket tonight.
Even with a big bandaged finger. And green woodstain all over my arms.
*i.e: holding my arm over my head, rather than climbing onto the roof of the shed. Anyone walking past our house at the time might have concluded that we are Nazis, though.
Bled for absolutely ages. Was starting to think I'd need to go to Casualty and get stitched, until I remembered that I have no idea where our nearest Casualty unit is...might entail a 50 minute drive to Salisbury. The strategic application of a wet tea towel and some elevation* sorted it out.
Other news: Been to the Wood Fair at the Larmer Tree Gardens today.
I know, I know. Cheese, Wood, what don't we see at Fairs round here? Took pictures, which I will share in due course.
On the way home we called in to look at carpets for the bedrooms and stairs (how much more exciting can this get, you wonder?), then went and bought teak oil and woodstain. And THEN we repainted the shed, a seat, a fence (and my camellias) and oiled all the garden furniture ready for it to go away over the winter. What busy bees we are.
Off out tonight for supper, watching the rugby with some of our lovely neighbours. Which will be nice, as we're both knackered now after all our painting and oiling activity, so somebody else making us a meal is very welcome.
Still unbelievably tired though, and feeling a bit low and weepy as a result which is a shame. Yesterday was a significant family anniversary, which made the day feel a bit odd and sad. So, a few glasses of wine and some cheerful company is just the ticket tonight.
Even with a big bandaged finger. And green woodstain all over my arms.
*i.e: holding my arm over my head, rather than climbing onto the roof of the shed. Anyone walking past our house at the time might have concluded that we are Nazis, though.
Thursday, 18 October 2007
Infrastructure, lack of
I have had two days of nighmarish travelling, and am exhausted. Should be reclining on a chaise longue with a teeny lace and satin hankie in my trembling hand.
First travel nighmare: London.
Left home to catch the 0715 train, which gets me to London by 0915, plenty of time to get across town and have a cup of tea, brush hair, slap on some lippy etc before the meeting.
Or so I thought.
Train got to Salisbury. I hopped off and onto the big fast London train as planned. No problems thus far. Arrived at Basingstoke only 10 minutes late. Still not too bad.
However.
The nice man sitting opposite caught my attention* (was listening to my iPod and reading Neil Gaiman) and said "I think we have to get off here...there are problems with the signals".
Hm. Not good.
So, a whole trainful of people disembarked and scurried down the tunnel, under the lines, up the other side and across to the waiting train on the opposite platform. The already-full waiting train. Which had been held back for 20 minutes so it could meet our train.
How the delayed, crammed-in passengers laughed as an extra trainload piled in around them.
I was fortunate enought ot find a seat (not First Class, but I wasn't going to push my luck), but there were dozens of people who had to stand up all the way from Basingstoke to Waterloo.
Oh yeah, and there was an extra stop at Woking to pick up even more passengers, who should have caught the first train. The one still sitting at Basingstoke, presumably. Bloody nightmare.
We finally crawled into Waterloo at 1020, over an hour late. I scampered across to my meeting (taking some funky escalator photos on my mobile on the way) and was only 30 minutes late.
Four hours from leaving my house to getting to the meeting. Sheesh. FOUR HOURS. Not impressive.
Coming home, I got to Waterloo, found the right platform, had to use a different gate as mine was shut, and ran onto it just as my train pulled away. I thought about running along beside it, waving my arms and shrieking, but couldn't be arsed.
Went and bought some chocolate buttons and a Telegraph instead, and sat quietly for 40 minutes till the next train arrived.
So.
Almost 7pm by the time I got home. That was Wednesday.
Today. Shrivenham. By road.
Only 60 miles from home, not brilliant roads but hopefully not too busy if I left early enough. I had to be there for 9am, so thought I'd allow 2 hours. Just in case of delays.
In the event, I was out of the house and scraping ice off the car at 0645. Gah.
As I'd predicted, the roads were full of large, slow lorries, all doing between 30 and 40mph, with nowhere to overtake, so I was glad I allowed plenty of time. Got there by 0815, cup of tea, nice and relaxed, hurrah hurrah hurrah.
Left at 5, and thought "I'll go home the same way I came this morning. It was nice and straightforward."
What a FOOL I was.
The police had closed a road just as I came off the M4, so I sat (along with about 5000 other people) in an ant-speed** queue, winding down a tiny back road for an hour. Got home at 7pm again, seething.
Other news: Mr WithaY had his exam today and is very pleased. He said he could answer all the questions, and didn't run out of time. Results in a couple of months. We went to the pub for dinner to celebrate.
Also. Kevin the Decorator is going great guns on the downstairs loo.
I came home tonight to find the toilet cistern on the front lawn. I assume he will put it back at some point, and wasn't just having a rock star moment.
*He waved at me, trying to attract my attention without disturbing me. How British.
**An ant with several broken legs. Carrying a huge suitcase.
First travel nighmare: London.
Left home to catch the 0715 train, which gets me to London by 0915, plenty of time to get across town and have a cup of tea, brush hair, slap on some lippy etc before the meeting.
Or so I thought.
Train got to Salisbury. I hopped off and onto the big fast London train as planned. No problems thus far. Arrived at Basingstoke only 10 minutes late. Still not too bad.
However.
The nice man sitting opposite caught my attention* (was listening to my iPod and reading Neil Gaiman) and said "I think we have to get off here...there are problems with the signals".
Hm. Not good.
So, a whole trainful of people disembarked and scurried down the tunnel, under the lines, up the other side and across to the waiting train on the opposite platform. The already-full waiting train. Which had been held back for 20 minutes so it could meet our train.
How the delayed, crammed-in passengers laughed as an extra trainload piled in around them.
I was fortunate enought ot find a seat (not First Class, but I wasn't going to push my luck), but there were dozens of people who had to stand up all the way from Basingstoke to Waterloo.
Oh yeah, and there was an extra stop at Woking to pick up even more passengers, who should have caught the first train. The one still sitting at Basingstoke, presumably. Bloody nightmare.
We finally crawled into Waterloo at 1020, over an hour late. I scampered across to my meeting (taking some funky escalator photos on my mobile on the way) and was only 30 minutes late.
Four hours from leaving my house to getting to the meeting. Sheesh. FOUR HOURS. Not impressive.
Coming home, I got to Waterloo, found the right platform, had to use a different gate as mine was shut, and ran onto it just as my train pulled away. I thought about running along beside it, waving my arms and shrieking, but couldn't be arsed.
Went and bought some chocolate buttons and a Telegraph instead, and sat quietly for 40 minutes till the next train arrived.
So.
Almost 7pm by the time I got home. That was Wednesday.
Today. Shrivenham. By road.
Only 60 miles from home, not brilliant roads but hopefully not too busy if I left early enough. I had to be there for 9am, so thought I'd allow 2 hours. Just in case of delays.
In the event, I was out of the house and scraping ice off the car at 0645. Gah.
As I'd predicted, the roads were full of large, slow lorries, all doing between 30 and 40mph, with nowhere to overtake, so I was glad I allowed plenty of time. Got there by 0815, cup of tea, nice and relaxed, hurrah hurrah hurrah.
Left at 5, and thought "I'll go home the same way I came this morning. It was nice and straightforward."
What a FOOL I was.
The police had closed a road just as I came off the M4, so I sat (along with about 5000 other people) in an ant-speed** queue, winding down a tiny back road for an hour. Got home at 7pm again, seething.
Other news: Mr WithaY had his exam today and is very pleased. He said he could answer all the questions, and didn't run out of time. Results in a couple of months. We went to the pub for dinner to celebrate.
Also. Kevin the Decorator is going great guns on the downstairs loo.
I came home tonight to find the toilet cistern on the front lawn. I assume he will put it back at some point, and wasn't just having a rock star moment.
*He waved at me, trying to attract my attention without disturbing me. How British.
**An ant with several broken legs. Carrying a huge suitcase.
Wednesday, 10 October 2007
Shopping. And dropping
At my desk trying to keep my eyes open. And it ain't easy.
No idea why I feel so exhausted, other than waking up at 5am and not managing to get back to sleep until 30 seconds before the radio came on.
I still hate the local radio station with a passion. Fuckwits. They're so smug. So self-referencing. So inane. So bloody pleased with themselves and their fabulous talent. Fucking chimps.
It is painful to listen to, really. If only we could get Radio 2. Gawd, even Radio 1 would do for the alarm clock. At least it would get me out of bed within moments of it kicking in.
So. Bit grumpy today. And my hair looks shite because I didn't wash it this morning, as I am off the gym after work. Being a girl is a pain in the arse sometimes. Ah well.
On the plus side, I took the afternoon off yesterday and went shopping for an iPod docking station. Found one in John Lewis in Salisbury (I love John Lewis. I'm so middle aged now) and it sounds fab. It's smaller than a bit of A4 paper and not a lot fatter. Amazing.
Also bought a huge pile of new towels (for when our visitors come over from the USA...I hear they like new towels in America), some posh guest soap (The soap is posh, the guests are well-balanced and relaxed) some Christmas gifts (not saying what as members of my family might read this...heh), a funky little bucket to put pegs in (yes, I know exactly how sad that is) and a load of groceries. A most satisfyimg foray into town.
Mr WithaY was happy that I found him some nice jerk seasoning. We'd managed to use ours all up. 5 different sorts. All eaten. Incredible. What fat greedy gannets we are.
Then had a very enjoyable guitar lesson where we played Cream's "Badge" rather well. My gorgeous teacher taught me the bridge so I can now play it all the way through, which is satisfying.
Also discovered the "dedicate songs" feature on Facebook. Have been annoying my mates by sending them inappropriate dedications. Well, it amused me for an hour.
It is proving expensive though. I hear the little snippet of the song they let you have, and then I have to go and buy it on iTunes. My collection of 1980s heavy metal continues to grow at a terrifying rate.
Looking forward to a weekend away this weekend. Going to see my bestest mate who I've not seen for bloody ages. And I might get to catch up on my sleep.
No idea why I feel so exhausted, other than waking up at 5am and not managing to get back to sleep until 30 seconds before the radio came on.
I still hate the local radio station with a passion. Fuckwits. They're so smug. So self-referencing. So inane. So bloody pleased with themselves and their fabulous talent. Fucking chimps.
It is painful to listen to, really. If only we could get Radio 2. Gawd, even Radio 1 would do for the alarm clock. At least it would get me out of bed within moments of it kicking in.
So. Bit grumpy today. And my hair looks shite because I didn't wash it this morning, as I am off the gym after work. Being a girl is a pain in the arse sometimes. Ah well.
On the plus side, I took the afternoon off yesterday and went shopping for an iPod docking station. Found one in John Lewis in Salisbury (I love John Lewis. I'm so middle aged now) and it sounds fab. It's smaller than a bit of A4 paper and not a lot fatter. Amazing.
Also bought a huge pile of new towels (for when our visitors come over from the USA...I hear they like new towels in America), some posh guest soap (The soap is posh, the guests are well-balanced and relaxed) some Christmas gifts (not saying what as members of my family might read this...heh), a funky little bucket to put pegs in (yes, I know exactly how sad that is) and a load of groceries. A most satisfyimg foray into town.
Mr WithaY was happy that I found him some nice jerk seasoning. We'd managed to use ours all up. 5 different sorts. All eaten. Incredible. What fat greedy gannets we are.
Then had a very enjoyable guitar lesson where we played Cream's "Badge" rather well. My gorgeous teacher taught me the bridge so I can now play it all the way through, which is satisfying.
Also discovered the "dedicate songs" feature on Facebook. Have been annoying my mates by sending them inappropriate dedications. Well, it amused me for an hour.
It is proving expensive though. I hear the little snippet of the song they let you have, and then I have to go and buy it on iTunes. My collection of 1980s heavy metal continues to grow at a terrifying rate.
Looking forward to a weekend away this weekend. Going to see my bestest mate who I've not seen for bloody ages. And I might get to catch up on my sleep.
Tuesday, 18 September 2007
Long and mousey
This post. Not my hair. I mean, it's long, but not at all mousey.
Anyhoo.
Drove into work this morning on autopilot after a day at home yesterday feeling crap and another poor night's sleep. It's very very tiresome*, not sleeping properly. Makes everything else feel ten times more difficult and wearing than it really is, and every molehill turns into a huge mountain.
Still, the sun is out and I am wearing a very lovely pink sparkly scarf over my otherwise all-black work outfit and three different people have told me how (and I quote) glamorous I look. So hurrah for that, at least.
Off to the gym after work if I can summon up the enthusiasm, but to be honest I still feel pretty low so might leave it till tomorrow. I have a guitar lesson, so it will be a bit of a mad rush to do my stuff at the gym, get home, get showered and changed and be bright-eyed and all ready to play guitar and eat biscuits with my lovely teacher by 6pm. And we got cow biscuits in specially.
So it might be a session tomorrow and one on Thursday as planned instead.
Badgerdaddy's post about the mouse made me think about our own vermin slaying experiences. And we have lots. Our previous house in Salisbury had a bit of a mouse invasion one winter.
We didn't realise it for ages.
I was home alone for a week while Mr WithaY was away for work, and I was sitting on the floor in the sitting room, no music, no tv, all very quiet, reading an improving book**. After a while I realised I could hear odd scratching, tapping noises. I looked out of the windows, nobody about. Went into the kitchen, nothing going on in there. Sat and listened again, but the noise had stopped.
This happened several times over the next few nights. I'd be sat quietly, and would hear this odd noise, get up to go and try to find out what it was, and it would stop.
Many months later we were redecorating the sitting room. We moved a small shelf unit that the stereo*** lived on, and hey presto, behind it was a Tom and Jerry stylee mousehole. Some fucking mouse had been busily making his way into the fabric of the house! He'd eaten the wallpaper, channelled his way into the bricks and gnawed all the rubber insulation from the mains electric cables for good measure.
What I'd been hearing night after night was him doing his little mousey home improvements. Lucky he didn't eat right into the power cables and burn the bloody house down.
After that we kept an eye out for further evidence, and sure enough we started to find mouse poo in the kitchen. In the fruit and vegetable basket, to be exact. We binned all the fruit and veg, noting that the only thing the mouse had had a go at were the chillies. Not the apples, or potatoes, or carrots or even the onions. Just the chillies. Odd, eh?
We set a trap. The next day there he was, dead as the proverbial, his teeth buried in a fine lump of stilton (as a last meal, Mr WithaY thought it was appropriate that it be something a bit special).
I must admit I had a bit of a lump in my throat as we slung him in the bin. The mouse. Not Mr WithaY.
The intermittent rats in the current WithaY garden get no such sentimental treatment. We spot one stealing the birdfood, the sniper on the grassy knoll is deployed, we very soon afterwards dump the twitching carcase in the bin (the grey one, not the green one).
Mr WithaY sometimes makes me take photos of the really big ones. It's nice to share things, I think.
*heh, see what I did there?
**improving book: i.e: not porn
***are they still called stereos these days? Will the younger readers know what I mean?
Anyhoo.
Drove into work this morning on autopilot after a day at home yesterday feeling crap and another poor night's sleep. It's very very tiresome*, not sleeping properly. Makes everything else feel ten times more difficult and wearing than it really is, and every molehill turns into a huge mountain.
Still, the sun is out and I am wearing a very lovely pink sparkly scarf over my otherwise all-black work outfit and three different people have told me how (and I quote) glamorous I look. So hurrah for that, at least.
Off to the gym after work if I can summon up the enthusiasm, but to be honest I still feel pretty low so might leave it till tomorrow. I have a guitar lesson, so it will be a bit of a mad rush to do my stuff at the gym, get home, get showered and changed and be bright-eyed and all ready to play guitar and eat biscuits with my lovely teacher by 6pm. And we got cow biscuits in specially.
So it might be a session tomorrow and one on Thursday as planned instead.
Badgerdaddy's post about the mouse made me think about our own vermin slaying experiences. And we have lots. Our previous house in Salisbury had a bit of a mouse invasion one winter.
We didn't realise it for ages.
I was home alone for a week while Mr WithaY was away for work, and I was sitting on the floor in the sitting room, no music, no tv, all very quiet, reading an improving book**. After a while I realised I could hear odd scratching, tapping noises. I looked out of the windows, nobody about. Went into the kitchen, nothing going on in there. Sat and listened again, but the noise had stopped.
This happened several times over the next few nights. I'd be sat quietly, and would hear this odd noise, get up to go and try to find out what it was, and it would stop.
Many months later we were redecorating the sitting room. We moved a small shelf unit that the stereo*** lived on, and hey presto, behind it was a Tom and Jerry stylee mousehole. Some fucking mouse had been busily making his way into the fabric of the house! He'd eaten the wallpaper, channelled his way into the bricks and gnawed all the rubber insulation from the mains electric cables for good measure.
What I'd been hearing night after night was him doing his little mousey home improvements. Lucky he didn't eat right into the power cables and burn the bloody house down.
After that we kept an eye out for further evidence, and sure enough we started to find mouse poo in the kitchen. In the fruit and vegetable basket, to be exact. We binned all the fruit and veg, noting that the only thing the mouse had had a go at were the chillies. Not the apples, or potatoes, or carrots or even the onions. Just the chillies. Odd, eh?
We set a trap. The next day there he was, dead as the proverbial, his teeth buried in a fine lump of stilton (as a last meal, Mr WithaY thought it was appropriate that it be something a bit special).
I must admit I had a bit of a lump in my throat as we slung him in the bin. The mouse. Not Mr WithaY.
The intermittent rats in the current WithaY garden get no such sentimental treatment. We spot one stealing the birdfood, the sniper on the grassy knoll is deployed, we very soon afterwards dump the twitching carcase in the bin (the grey one, not the green one).
Mr WithaY sometimes makes me take photos of the really big ones. It's nice to share things, I think.
*heh, see what I did there?
**improving book: i.e: not porn
***are they still called stereos these days? Will the younger readers know what I mean?
Thursday, 9 August 2007
Tired
I'm so tired. So very, very tired.
Tireder than a really tired thing.
Had a poor night's sleep, no idea why. Woke up at 6, got up at half past, got to work about 40 minutes earlier than usual, then sat here in a daze, wishing I was still asleep.
I have a meeting at 3 this afternoon with my boss's boss, so can't even bale out early. Gah.
Still, I plan to get to the gym after the meeting which will energise me a bit. Or I'll drop dead on the cross trainer. If I do, I leave my Magnum CDs to my lovely guitar teacher. Heh.
Am working at home tomorrow so at least I won't be contending with hellish Friday traffic. No plans for the weekend. Mr WithaY should have finished his Open University assignment by the end of today, so we might be able to go out somewhere if the weather's good. Maybe to the coast, which would be nice.
We both spent last weekend saying "Isn't it lovely not having to drive?" to each other at regular intervals. Another sign of encroaching senility.
I remember going to a National Trust place once with my bestest mate. We walked around the garden, looked at the flowers, admired the sheep, peeked into the Chapel, then went to the tea shop for a cup of tea and a nice sit-down.
And we agreed that the tea and nice sit-down was the best part of the trip.
Sigh.
Still, am getting to grips with HTML. Hurrah for that at least.
Tireder than a really tired thing.
Had a poor night's sleep, no idea why. Woke up at 6, got up at half past, got to work about 40 minutes earlier than usual, then sat here in a daze, wishing I was still asleep.
I have a meeting at 3 this afternoon with my boss's boss, so can't even bale out early. Gah.
Still, I plan to get to the gym after the meeting which will energise me a bit. Or I'll drop dead on the cross trainer. If I do, I leave my Magnum CDs to my lovely guitar teacher. Heh.
Am working at home tomorrow so at least I won't be contending with hellish Friday traffic. No plans for the weekend. Mr WithaY should have finished his Open University assignment by the end of today, so we might be able to go out somewhere if the weather's good. Maybe to the coast, which would be nice.
We both spent last weekend saying "Isn't it lovely not having to drive?" to each other at regular intervals. Another sign of encroaching senility.
I remember going to a National Trust place once with my bestest mate. We walked around the garden, looked at the flowers, admired the sheep, peeked into the Chapel, then went to the tea shop for a cup of tea and a nice sit-down.
And we agreed that the tea and nice sit-down was the best part of the trip.
Sigh.
Still, am getting to grips with HTML. Hurrah for that at least.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)