Hurrah, I feel much better.
Just as well, because I was starting to worry. Stomach upsets usually only last 36 hours at the most, and this one has been knocking around since last Friday.
So, I ate some food today. So far, and I am aware this is probably too much information, it hasn't made a reappearance of any kind.
Other news: Made lemon curd this evening, whilst cooking the aforementioned food. It worked very well, and I am planning a toast and lemon curd bonanza for breakfast tomorrow.
Also, it seems that the fantastic WithaY Angler Fish has swept the board in Belgian Waffle's Village Fete contest. I am eagerly awaiting the prize to be delivered to my door. I hope it's a pony. Made of gold.
On a slightly, but not very, different tack, I spoke to my new boss today. I am being released back into the wild to take up my new job at the beginning of October.
I need to find out about getting a season ticket for the train, also a long term parking ticket for the station car park. I need to learn the best walking route from Waterloo to the office. I know that it is 1.4 miles, according to Google Maps, so it should take me less than 30 minutes to walk it.
It seems that my new colleagues are already scared of me. Excellent. There is something to be said for coming from an environment where we have shitloads of guns.
Tuesday, 9 September 2008
Sunday, 7 September 2008
Black Dog
Apart from spending much of Friday night, Saturday night and early Sunday morning having a hideous stomach upset, things have been quiet. Just as well, really, all thing considered.
I still feel shaky and sore, but that might be because I haven't eaten much over the last 48 hours.
Well, apart from the large Moroccan meal we had on Saturday night when our mates came over for dinner. They brought their lovely dog, who was perfectly behaved and a delight to have in the house.
She (the dog) spent the evening lying on the sitting room carpet in front of the fire, wagging her tail and rolling over to have her tummy rubbed.
I think I might try that myself.
Other news: Tomorrow will be interesting, my boss is back from her holiday and will find out that I have accepted that other job. A mate told me today that the commute will either get me really fit or kill me. I hope it's the "fit" option.
I still feel shaky and sore, but that might be because I haven't eaten much over the last 48 hours.
Well, apart from the large Moroccan meal we had on Saturday night when our mates came over for dinner. They brought their lovely dog, who was perfectly behaved and a delight to have in the house.
She (the dog) spent the evening lying on the sitting room carpet in front of the fire, wagging her tail and rolling over to have her tummy rubbed.
I think I might try that myself.
Other news: Tomorrow will be interesting, my boss is back from her holiday and will find out that I have accepted that other job. A mate told me today that the commute will either get me really fit or kill me. I hope it's the "fit" option.
Saturday, 6 September 2008
Butterflies
I've accepted that job. I negotiated a flexible working deal and a pay rise to cover the cost of a commute into London, so I will take the post.
Bloody hell it's scary. I've been in the same area of business for 20 years, come November, so this is a huge leap into the unknown.
Working in London is going to be interesting. I've never done it before for more than a couple of weeks at a time, so it will take a bit of getting used to.
Other news: I have picked up a horrible stomach bug. Bleugh.
Bloody hell it's scary. I've been in the same area of business for 20 years, come November, so this is a huge leap into the unknown.
Working in London is going to be interesting. I've never done it before for more than a couple of weeks at a time, so it will take a bit of getting used to.
Other news: I have picked up a horrible stomach bug. Bleugh.
Wednesday, 3 September 2008
News from the Front
So anyway, remember that dreadful interview I had? On Friday? When my hairdryer blew up and I fell in a hole? Yeah, that one.
Well, today they offered me the job.
They must have either been really impressed by my sang froid* or the other interviewees were even worse.
So now I have to find out what the package is they are offering. If I just took the job as offered, I would effectively be doing an extra 6 hours a day travelling for a £5K a year pay cut. And they hired me for my brains, I assume. So I won't be doing that.
Tomorrow I will talk to them and ask if I can either get my travel paid for, or a couple of days working at home a week, or, even better, a mixture of both.
And if they say no, sorry, this is the only package, I will say "Thanks very much for the offer, but I will not be accepting it."
How marvellous. I am not a complete waste of space after all. Yay me.
*Unlikely, I suggest
Well, today they offered me the job.
They must have either been really impressed by my sang froid* or the other interviewees were even worse.
So now I have to find out what the package is they are offering. If I just took the job as offered, I would effectively be doing an extra 6 hours a day travelling for a £5K a year pay cut. And they hired me for my brains, I assume. So I won't be doing that.
Tomorrow I will talk to them and ask if I can either get my travel paid for, or a couple of days working at home a week, or, even better, a mixture of both.
And if they say no, sorry, this is the only package, I will say "Thanks very much for the offer, but I will not be accepting it."
How marvellous. I am not a complete waste of space after all. Yay me.
*Unlikely, I suggest
Monday, 1 September 2008
Strike!
Well, among the outdoorsy adventures of the weekend, Mr WithaY made a fishing spear*.
Look.
A work of art and beauty, whittled from twigs and that.
He's been trying it out.
It was most successful.
The hunter admires his prey.
Please note: No Beakers and Teddies were harmed** in the making of this blog.
*Once again, I wish I was kidding.
**Except for these two, obviously.
Look.
A work of art and beauty, whittled from twigs and that.
He's been trying it out.
It was most successful.
The hunter admires his prey.
Please note: No Beakers and Teddies were harmed** in the making of this blog.
*Once again, I wish I was kidding.
**Except for these two, obviously.
Blimey
This is spooky. It tells me all about myself! Just like a horoscope!
 | Lucy WithaY took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test! "Seeks an affectionate relationship, offering fulfi..."
|
Sunday, 31 August 2008
Kismet
So. Job interview.
The day did not begin well. I got up nice and early, had a shower and washed my hair, as you do when you want to make a good impression. I was less than halfway through getting it dried when my hairdryer stopped going HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO and started going h-hoooo-Hooo-HOOOOO-h-h-h-ooooOOOOoooo.
There was an alarming smell of burning. I switched it on and off a few times. The burning smell got stronger. I consigned it to the bin, muttering "fuckfuckfuck" under my breath.
So, I had to try and towel-dry as much hair as possible, brush it through, put it up and hope for the best.
Not an auspicious start.
I got to the railway station much later than planned, thanks to the full-on West Wiltshire Slow Tractor Driver Of The Year victory procession I ended up taking part in. When I got there, the ticket machine was out of order so I had to buy one from the little man behind the desk. He was engaged in a long, complex discussion with a woman who was insisting that she could buy a season ticket between Bath and London from him.
He was very polite, far more so than I would have been in his shoes*. His response was along the lines of "I'm terribly sorry, madam, but Bath Spa is on a different rail network. We can't sell you a ticket from Bath. You need to go to Bath for that."
He repeated that statement, varying it slightly with each telling, about four times before she flounced off.
I bought my train ticket, and the car park ticket, then had to run** to the car, dump the ticket, then run back to jump on the train. And, because I was paying for the ticket, I didn't go First Class. Ugh.
Anyhoo. FInally arrived at Waterloo, and succesfully navigated the Tube to Victoria (two trains! No confusion!), then realised I had left my A to Z at home. Arse.
I ended up asking two geezers where the street I was looking for was, and eventually saw the building where the interview was being held. I scampered along, having to do a quick sidestep to avoid a cross-looking woman who came out of the shop on the corner.
As I did so, I failed to notice the huge dip in the tarmac, stepped down the hole and almost fell over, only saving myself by doing one of those flailing arm staggers for 50 yards along the pavement. I stopped, checked for sprained ankles (none) and dignity (none), then looked back at the woman who had come out of the shop.
She lit a fag, looked at me coldly and said in a French accent "You are not wearing senseeble shoes." Bitch.
I was, too.
Anyway, by the time I got the actual office and told the receptionist I had arrived, I was bit flustered. Luckily I had allowed plenty of time, so was half an hour early. She said "I will ring them and tell them to come and collect you."
Excellent. I would sit and wait to be collected. I sat. I waited. And waited. And waited.
When there were 5 minutes to go before my interview was due to start, I went back to the receptionist and asked when they were coming to get me.
"Oh" she said "They weren't there when I called, I'll give them another ring."
Yes, do that, you dozy cow, or I will be sitting here for the rest of my life. Did she think they'd know I was there through some magical sixth sense? Fer feck's sake, she'd been sitting there for 25 minutes watching me pace around and check the time. Fuckwit.
The interview did not go well, I think. I blithered on like a fool for 45 minutes, they looked at me pityingly, we all shook hands, I left. I didn't bang my head on the wall outside, which was probably a good thing, but I felt like it.
I find out this week if they want me. I am not holding my breath.
*I hope she was psychic, and heard me saying "Oh FUCK OFF you halfwitted bint," in my head.
**Slowly, much like a diplodocus.
The day did not begin well. I got up nice and early, had a shower and washed my hair, as you do when you want to make a good impression. I was less than halfway through getting it dried when my hairdryer stopped going HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO and started going h-hoooo-Hooo-HOOOOO-h-h-h-ooooOOOOoooo.
There was an alarming smell of burning. I switched it on and off a few times. The burning smell got stronger. I consigned it to the bin, muttering "fuckfuckfuck" under my breath.
So, I had to try and towel-dry as much hair as possible, brush it through, put it up and hope for the best.
Not an auspicious start.
I got to the railway station much later than planned, thanks to the full-on West Wiltshire Slow Tractor Driver Of The Year victory procession I ended up taking part in. When I got there, the ticket machine was out of order so I had to buy one from the little man behind the desk. He was engaged in a long, complex discussion with a woman who was insisting that she could buy a season ticket between Bath and London from him.
He was very polite, far more so than I would have been in his shoes*. His response was along the lines of "I'm terribly sorry, madam, but Bath Spa is on a different rail network. We can't sell you a ticket from Bath. You need to go to Bath for that."
He repeated that statement, varying it slightly with each telling, about four times before she flounced off.
I bought my train ticket, and the car park ticket, then had to run** to the car, dump the ticket, then run back to jump on the train. And, because I was paying for the ticket, I didn't go First Class. Ugh.
Anyhoo. FInally arrived at Waterloo, and succesfully navigated the Tube to Victoria (two trains! No confusion!), then realised I had left my A to Z at home. Arse.
I ended up asking two geezers where the street I was looking for was, and eventually saw the building where the interview was being held. I scampered along, having to do a quick sidestep to avoid a cross-looking woman who came out of the shop on the corner.
As I did so, I failed to notice the huge dip in the tarmac, stepped down the hole and almost fell over, only saving myself by doing one of those flailing arm staggers for 50 yards along the pavement. I stopped, checked for sprained ankles (none) and dignity (none), then looked back at the woman who had come out of the shop.
She lit a fag, looked at me coldly and said in a French accent "You are not wearing senseeble shoes." Bitch.
I was, too.
Anyway, by the time I got the actual office and told the receptionist I had arrived, I was bit flustered. Luckily I had allowed plenty of time, so was half an hour early. She said "I will ring them and tell them to come and collect you."
Excellent. I would sit and wait to be collected. I sat. I waited. And waited. And waited.
When there were 5 minutes to go before my interview was due to start, I went back to the receptionist and asked when they were coming to get me.
"Oh" she said "They weren't there when I called, I'll give them another ring."
Yes, do that, you dozy cow, or I will be sitting here for the rest of my life. Did she think they'd know I was there through some magical sixth sense? Fer feck's sake, she'd been sitting there for 25 minutes watching me pace around and check the time. Fuckwit.
The interview did not go well, I think. I blithered on like a fool for 45 minutes, they looked at me pityingly, we all shook hands, I left. I didn't bang my head on the wall outside, which was probably a good thing, but I felt like it.
I find out this week if they want me. I am not holding my breath.
*I hope she was psychic, and heard me saying "Oh FUCK OFF you halfwitted bint," in my head.
**Slowly, much like a diplodocus.
Tuesday, 26 August 2008
Things that make you go "hmmm"
So, remember how I was whinging on about being fed up with my job? And that I was going to stick a couple of job applications in just to see what happened?
Well, guess who has an interview in London on Friday?
Yay me.
Luckily it's really short notice so I don't have time to get too nervous* but I do have to prepare a 4 minute presentation on how great I am** before then.
Other news: Went to see Hellboy 2 on Monday afternoon. Loud, loud, loud. But entertaining, especially the elves. And the Troll Market. Marvellous.
I did keep thinking "Oh yeah, Neverwhere", or "ooh, Fifth Element" or "Ha, Star Wars" and of course "Brrrrr, Pan's Labrynth" but it was worth watching.
Bloody Salisbury Bloody Cinema though. Sort out the seats in Screen 2...it's a disgrace. I am NOT giving them 8 quid of my money again till they have replaced the world's least comfortable cinema seats.
I mean, you're stuck in them for anything up to 3 hours, and if they make your bum, back and legs hurt, they are really not doing their job.
Right. Bedtime. Early start tomorrow.
*Lies, all lies.
**I paraphrase slightly.
Well, guess who has an interview in London on Friday?
Yay me.
Luckily it's really short notice so I don't have time to get too nervous* but I do have to prepare a 4 minute presentation on how great I am** before then.
Other news: Went to see Hellboy 2 on Monday afternoon. Loud, loud, loud. But entertaining, especially the elves. And the Troll Market. Marvellous.
I did keep thinking "Oh yeah, Neverwhere", or "ooh, Fifth Element" or "Ha, Star Wars" and of course "Brrrrr, Pan's Labrynth" but it was worth watching.
Bloody Salisbury Bloody Cinema though. Sort out the seats in Screen 2...it's a disgrace. I am NOT giving them 8 quid of my money again till they have replaced the world's least comfortable cinema seats.
I mean, you're stuck in them for anything up to 3 hours, and if they make your bum, back and legs hurt, they are really not doing their job.
Right. Bedtime. Early start tomorrow.
*Lies, all lies.
**I paraphrase slightly.
Sunday, 24 August 2008
Horror story (PG)
We've been busy here today. Mr WithaY came home a day early from his dive trip to Plymouth so was at a bit of a loose end. And what does one do on a Sunday afternoon, when one is at a loose end?
This.
In response to Jaywalker's impassioned plea, he got busy.
I married a genius. A warped, disturbing genius, but a genius nonetheless.
And, because a stolen good idea is far better than having to go to all the bother of coming up with your own, a little photostory for you:
Tralalalalaaaaaaaaaa...happy little fishies out for a pleasant swim in tropical waters, enjoying the sunshine.
And hey, here are the guys! Guys! Hi! You're all out for a swim too? Excellent! Let's all mosey along together. Tralalalalalaaaaaaaaaaaa etcetera.
Tum te tum te tum....happy as can be, not a care in the wor.....uh-oh. Anyone else feel something really big swim by?
No? Must have been my imagination. Heh. Wow, what a great swim....what?? No! Fuck! Aieeeeee! Swim for it lads! Swim for your lives! Save yourselves!
Damn it! We never leave a man behind! Oh dear lord, look at it's TEETH! It's devouring Dave! Too late for me, but you can get away! Swim, lad, SWIIIIIIIM!!!
Bwahahahahaaaaaaaaa. My evil broccoli lure worked like a charm. Nom nom nom nom.
Thank you.
This.
In response to Jaywalker's impassioned plea, he got busy.
I married a genius. A warped, disturbing genius, but a genius nonetheless.
And, because a stolen good idea is far better than having to go to all the bother of coming up with your own, a little photostory for you:
Tralalalalaaaaaaaaaa...happy little fishies out for a pleasant swim in tropical waters, enjoying the sunshine.
And hey, here are the guys! Guys! Hi! You're all out for a swim too? Excellent! Let's all mosey along together. Tralalalalalaaaaaaaaaaaa etcetera.
Tum te tum te tum....happy as can be, not a care in the wor.....uh-oh. Anyone else feel something really big swim by?
No? Must have been my imagination. Heh. Wow, what a great swim....what?? No! Fuck! Aieeeeee! Swim for it lads! Swim for your lives! Save yourselves!
Damn it! We never leave a man behind! Oh dear lord, look at it's TEETH! It's devouring Dave! Too late for me, but you can get away! Swim, lad, SWIIIIIIIM!!!
Bwahahahahaaaaaaaaa. My evil broccoli lure worked like a charm. Nom nom nom nom.
Thank you.
Thursday, 21 August 2008
Conspiracy theory
Well, I have sent in a couple of job applications to the jobs in London. We shall see what happens. I do feel a bit better about things this week, possibly because there is a huge high-level crucial meeting (HHLCM) planned for early September which will finally sort out my project.
We'll either get funded and be able to continue, or we won't, in which case my team will disband and we will find other stuff to do. Either one works for me, and at least we'll have a clear idea of what we are doing.
This week I have mostly been drafting briefing material for the HHLCM meeting.
I was in the Bristol office yesterday, which was interesting. The majority of the larger team are based there, so it was nice to put some faces to names. I also nicked a handful of the corporate branded gear to give to the team back here, so we have the same stuff as the rest of the team.
A colleague who lives a couple of villages away gave me a lift, so I was at her house by 7.30, and we had an enjoyable drive, sharing strategic vision* and planning the way ahead**.
Other news: The mole is still there. Mr WithaY and I are now being driven mad by the sonic mole-repeller thingy, but the mole seems to be either deaf or a trance music fan.
Heard an interesting theory on badger culling the other day. A colleague believes that it is already happening on a widespread scale, but those responsible are leaving the dead badgers at the side of the road "to make it look like an accident".
Ri-i-i-i-i-i-ght.
*Talking about our colleagues
**Discussing who we'd rather work for
We'll either get funded and be able to continue, or we won't, in which case my team will disband and we will find other stuff to do. Either one works for me, and at least we'll have a clear idea of what we are doing.
This week I have mostly been drafting briefing material for the HHLCM meeting.
I was in the Bristol office yesterday, which was interesting. The majority of the larger team are based there, so it was nice to put some faces to names. I also nicked a handful of the corporate branded gear to give to the team back here, so we have the same stuff as the rest of the team.
A colleague who lives a couple of villages away gave me a lift, so I was at her house by 7.30, and we had an enjoyable drive, sharing strategic vision* and planning the way ahead**.
Other news: The mole is still there. Mr WithaY and I are now being driven mad by the sonic mole-repeller thingy, but the mole seems to be either deaf or a trance music fan.
Heard an interesting theory on badger culling the other day. A colleague believes that it is already happening on a widespread scale, but those responsible are leaving the dead badgers at the side of the road "to make it look like an accident".
Ri-i-i-i-i-i-ght.
*Talking about our colleagues
**Discussing who we'd rather work for
Monday, 18 August 2008
Explanation
Ok, due to popular demand*, I need to explain how the fantastic "Barbecue Carnage" diorama was created...
The torso and limbs are made from dried nectarine. Delicious and nutricious. The head is a grape, with pine nuts for eyes. Disturbingly, when you pushed one eye in, the other one bulged out. It was like watching a hideous low-budget horror flick.
The hair, which I am especially pleased with, is a prune. Mr WithaY came up with that. He was watching me assemble my masterpiece on the sitting room table (we don't get out much) and exclaimed "A prune wig! You could make a prune wig!"
We laughed out loud with glee.
We need to get out a lot more.
The mouth is a sliver of dried cherry. The rest of the cherry was delicious, by the way.
The scattered currants represent the barbecue coals, blown clean out of the barbecue by the force of the fatal explosion, caused by a can of lighter fuel, dropped into the flames by accident.
I like how the tomato puree gore clearly shows the terrible effect of the explosion.
I might sell instructions so you can try it yourself in the privacy of your own homes.
My favourite part of the whole event was after I had put all the bits back in the kitchen, and Mr WithaY waddled** in there to find a snack.
He came out crucnhing something, looking faintly dismayed. He held up the latter half of whatever it was he'd been eating, and glared at me. "This is an uncooked prawn cracker, isn't it?" he asked me, waving it about accusingly.
It's not my fault if the raw materials of genius are left innocently in the kitchen.
I mean, dried fruit, yes. Grapes, yes. Pine nuts, yes. Raw prawn crackers, no. They look like mother-of-pearl and smell of prawns. That, to me, is not appetising.
Not when there are prunes nearby, at least.
*One slightly bewildered email
**His legs are still sore from the sponsored walk. He's walking like a gorilla, a low crouching shuffle, making "ooh ooh ooh" noises as he goes. I have to leave the room to laugh.
The torso and limbs are made from dried nectarine. Delicious and nutricious. The head is a grape, with pine nuts for eyes. Disturbingly, when you pushed one eye in, the other one bulged out. It was like watching a hideous low-budget horror flick.
The hair, which I am especially pleased with, is a prune. Mr WithaY came up with that. He was watching me assemble my masterpiece on the sitting room table (we don't get out much) and exclaimed "A prune wig! You could make a prune wig!"
We laughed out loud with glee.
We need to get out a lot more.
The mouth is a sliver of dried cherry. The rest of the cherry was delicious, by the way.
The scattered currants represent the barbecue coals, blown clean out of the barbecue by the force of the fatal explosion, caused by a can of lighter fuel, dropped into the flames by accident.
I like how the tomato puree gore clearly shows the terrible effect of the explosion.
I might sell instructions so you can try it yourself in the privacy of your own homes.
My favourite part of the whole event was after I had put all the bits back in the kitchen, and Mr WithaY waddled** in there to find a snack.
He came out crucnhing something, looking faintly dismayed. He held up the latter half of whatever it was he'd been eating, and glared at me. "This is an uncooked prawn cracker, isn't it?" he asked me, waving it about accusingly.
It's not my fault if the raw materials of genius are left innocently in the kitchen.
I mean, dried fruit, yes. Grapes, yes. Pine nuts, yes. Raw prawn crackers, no. They look like mother-of-pearl and smell of prawns. That, to me, is not appetising.
Not when there are prunes nearby, at least.
*One slightly bewildered email
**His legs are still sore from the sponsored walk. He's walking like a gorilla, a low crouching shuffle, making "ooh ooh ooh" noises as he goes. I have to leave the room to laugh.
Sunday, 17 August 2008
Village Fete Competition
I have created an entry for the fantastic on-line Village Fete , taking place on your computer over the summer.
I call it "Barbecue Carnage".
It belongs in the Vegetable Carving Category.
Thank you.
I call it "Barbecue Carnage".
It belongs in the Vegetable Carving Category.
Thank you.
Changes
I have recovered just about enough of my normal sunny disposition to feel up to posting on here today. I know how dull it is to read all about someone else's grumpiness, but I have been quite low this week, one way and another.
I think it's primarily work-related. I know, I know, it isn't real life. I know it should stop being in my head once I get home. I know that my job does not entail saving lives or making the world a better place, particularly. I know all that. But I have worked bloody hard to be where I am now, and it is painful to think that actually I am not very good at what I do.
So I made a decision this week, that rather than just spend the next 20 years* being sad and feeling like a rank underachiever, I will look for another job in a different kind of business area.
Accordingly, this weekend I have found a job advert I will be replying to. The job is in London, as most of them seem to be these days, but I will be looking to negotiate at least a 2-days-a-week working at home deal. I can't see it being that hard, what with the interweb and phones and all that high tech stuff.
It takes about 2 and a half hours to get from my house to the centre of London. I could do that 3 days a week. If the money was right. Which, on this advert, it is.
So, we shall see. If nothing else, it makes me feel like I am doing something about the situation, and not just grumbling.
Other news: Mr WithaY completed his 30 mile walk across Salisbury Plain in his scuba gear. It took him about 10 hours, and he was completely exhausted afterwards, as you might expect.
His feet were a bit of a mess. There was a bit of sterilised needle deployment to deal with blisters once we got his boots off, but it wasn't too bad. Apparently the worst thing today is the pain in his knees and calves** so he is limping around like he's a hundred years old. Which he isn't. Yet.
We're having a quiet day at home today. He has his head buried in his OU studies***, I've been ironing and clearing up the house a bit. When I'm not wasting my life on the internet, of course.
Apparently our neighbours with the chickens are going to downsize them to bantams. Too much poo, apparently.
What a great idea. If it catches on, what's to stop people doing it with other things? Too much poo from the children? Get a fishtank instead.
*Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
**on his legs, not in the dairy farm down the road
***Nano technology today. Maybe my life will be like Star Trek someday soon, after all.
I think it's primarily work-related. I know, I know, it isn't real life. I know it should stop being in my head once I get home. I know that my job does not entail saving lives or making the world a better place, particularly. I know all that. But I have worked bloody hard to be where I am now, and it is painful to think that actually I am not very good at what I do.
So I made a decision this week, that rather than just spend the next 20 years* being sad and feeling like a rank underachiever, I will look for another job in a different kind of business area.
Accordingly, this weekend I have found a job advert I will be replying to. The job is in London, as most of them seem to be these days, but I will be looking to negotiate at least a 2-days-a-week working at home deal. I can't see it being that hard, what with the interweb and phones and all that high tech stuff.
It takes about 2 and a half hours to get from my house to the centre of London. I could do that 3 days a week. If the money was right. Which, on this advert, it is.
So, we shall see. If nothing else, it makes me feel like I am doing something about the situation, and not just grumbling.
Other news: Mr WithaY completed his 30 mile walk across Salisbury Plain in his scuba gear. It took him about 10 hours, and he was completely exhausted afterwards, as you might expect.
His feet were a bit of a mess. There was a bit of sterilised needle deployment to deal with blisters once we got his boots off, but it wasn't too bad. Apparently the worst thing today is the pain in his knees and calves** so he is limping around like he's a hundred years old. Which he isn't. Yet.
We're having a quiet day at home today. He has his head buried in his OU studies***, I've been ironing and clearing up the house a bit. When I'm not wasting my life on the internet, of course.
Apparently our neighbours with the chickens are going to downsize them to bantams. Too much poo, apparently.
What a great idea. If it catches on, what's to stop people doing it with other things? Too much poo from the children? Get a fishtank instead.
*Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
**on his legs, not in the dairy farm down the road
***Nano technology today. Maybe my life will be like Star Trek someday soon, after all.
Thursday, 14 August 2008
Walk on by
So. Work has been a bit shite this week. To make a great week even better, I had a nosebleed this afternoon. Which was nice.
At least it didn't rain today, which made the trip down to see Mr WithaY's dad in hospital this evening slightly nicer than it might have been. He's been told he'll be in for at least another 5 weeks, which was a disappointment, but he was in better spirits than you might expect.
There was a poor old chap in the bed opposite who was trying to explain to the nurse that he had to take 2 tablets a day, one in the morning, one at night, and that the doctor had told him to do that himself with the tablets he'd brought from home. The nurse was not only not listening to him, she was talking over the top of him before he even finished his sentences, getting louder each time, telling him what to do.
I couldn't decide if it was funny, upsetting or just annoying.
Anyway. We had a nice chat with pa-in-law WithaY, then scooted back home, calling in at the huge Tesco in Shaftesbury on the way to buy something for dinner.
£125. Bloody big dinner.
I'm in the office again tomorrow, then am spending most of Saturday manning (personing?) the phones as the emergency response unit to support Mr WithaY's frankly mental plan.
The Plan:
He is doing a sponsored walk of about 30 miles around Salisbury Plain. In his scuba gear.
Not, and I am still very disappointed by this, however, in his flippers. No, he is wearing proper boots. And a wetsuit. And a BCD. And he is talking about taking one of his tanks*. I am trying to persuade him that he will have more than enough to carry without a bloody huge metal cylinder.
We shall see.
So. He's doing this bloody long walk to raise money to help pay for his shark-tagging expedition to Mexico in October. I'll tell you about that when I am less tired, and can see straight.
*The sort you fill with air, not the fun sort you drive around Salisbury Plain in.
At least it didn't rain today, which made the trip down to see Mr WithaY's dad in hospital this evening slightly nicer than it might have been. He's been told he'll be in for at least another 5 weeks, which was a disappointment, but he was in better spirits than you might expect.
There was a poor old chap in the bed opposite who was trying to explain to the nurse that he had to take 2 tablets a day, one in the morning, one at night, and that the doctor had told him to do that himself with the tablets he'd brought from home. The nurse was not only not listening to him, she was talking over the top of him before he even finished his sentences, getting louder each time, telling him what to do.
I couldn't decide if it was funny, upsetting or just annoying.
Anyway. We had a nice chat with pa-in-law WithaY, then scooted back home, calling in at the huge Tesco in Shaftesbury on the way to buy something for dinner.
£125. Bloody big dinner.
I'm in the office again tomorrow, then am spending most of Saturday manning (personing?) the phones as the emergency response unit to support Mr WithaY's frankly mental plan.
The Plan:
He is doing a sponsored walk of about 30 miles around Salisbury Plain. In his scuba gear.
Not, and I am still very disappointed by this, however, in his flippers. No, he is wearing proper boots. And a wetsuit. And a BCD. And he is talking about taking one of his tanks*. I am trying to persuade him that he will have more than enough to carry without a bloody huge metal cylinder.
We shall see.
So. He's doing this bloody long walk to raise money to help pay for his shark-tagging expedition to Mexico in October. I'll tell you about that when I am less tired, and can see straight.
*The sort you fill with air, not the fun sort you drive around Salisbury Plain in.
Monday, 11 August 2008
Water on the brain
I can't believe it's still raining. I am sick and tired of this bloody weather. Time to emigrate somewhere with blue skies, warm sunshine and friendly simple people. Like, oh, the summer of 1976.
Drove home from work tonight through some incredible Wrath Of God rain, some of which may in fact have been hail.
Discovered in the course of the journey that my windscreen wipers are buggered, so need to get some new blades pronto.
We had a pretty quiet weekend, hence the slight blog hiatus. I sat down a couple of times to do a posting but couldn't think of anything even halfway interesting, so didn't bother. What a slacker.
Trouble is, as soon as I start to try and think of stuff to post, my mind goes blank.
Like now.
Drove home from work tonight through some incredible Wrath Of God rain, some of which may in fact have been hail.
Discovered in the course of the journey that my windscreen wipers are buggered, so need to get some new blades pronto.
We had a pretty quiet weekend, hence the slight blog hiatus. I sat down a couple of times to do a posting but couldn't think of anything even halfway interesting, so didn't bother. What a slacker.
Trouble is, as soon as I start to try and think of stuff to post, my mind goes blank.
Like now.
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