Wednesday already?

Wednesday, July 9th, 2008 11:01 am
caddyman: (Default)
I don’t know what I have done with my tote brolly, but it’s not in my rucksack and consequently I write to you as a rather soggy customer gently steaming in the workplace. I might nip into M&S at lunchtime and acquire one of their “Jumberellas”, like the one I got for Furtle a while back. Essentially it an overgrown tote that expands to the proximate size of a golf umbrella, which means a) that it keeps you nice and dry and b) ordinary, puny brollies can’t get close enough to pose a threat to your eyes with their nasty, pointy little ribs.

I left poor Furtle in bed this morning, feeling sick. It seems that the transition from Dried Frog to Horse pills has not been a happy one for her stomach and there have been consequent prayers down the great porcelain telephone. Hopefully a lie in, extra rest and plenty of water will sort that out.

For myself, the insomnia seems to have passed – touch wood. A combination of staying off coffee (but not tea) in the evenings, ensuring that I drink more water before bed and sprinkling oil of lavender (dilly, dilly) on the pillow, seems to have done the trick. Of course now I am awoken by the need to pee at 3.30 in the morning, but that’s the trade off, I suppose, as you get older. Broken sleep or no sleep; I’ll take the former. At least you can doze off again afterwards.

My puny work ethic, weak-willed and consumptive as it usually is, is coughing up even more blood than usual in the corner of the office today. It seems unlikely, therefore, that it will be able to goad my conscience, which has already with remarkable sangfroid allowed me to perfect the art of the disguised skive.

There may be further posts as the day wears on.

Wednesday already?

Wednesday, July 9th, 2008 11:01 am
caddyman: (Default)
I don’t know what I have done with my tote brolly, but it’s not in my rucksack and consequently I write to you as a rather soggy customer gently steaming in the workplace. I might nip into M&S at lunchtime and acquire one of their “Jumberellas”, like the one I got for Furtle a while back. Essentially it an overgrown tote that expands to the proximate size of a golf umbrella, which means a) that it keeps you nice and dry and b) ordinary, puny brollies can’t get close enough to pose a threat to your eyes with their nasty, pointy little ribs.

I left poor Furtle in bed this morning, feeling sick. It seems that the transition from Dried Frog to Horse pills has not been a happy one for her stomach and there have been consequent prayers down the great porcelain telephone. Hopefully a lie in, extra rest and plenty of water will sort that out.

For myself, the insomnia seems to have passed – touch wood. A combination of staying off coffee (but not tea) in the evenings, ensuring that I drink more water before bed and sprinkling oil of lavender (dilly, dilly) on the pillow, seems to have done the trick. Of course now I am awoken by the need to pee at 3.30 in the morning, but that’s the trade off, I suppose, as you get older. Broken sleep or no sleep; I’ll take the former. At least you can doze off again afterwards.

My puny work ethic, weak-willed and consumptive as it usually is, is coughing up even more blood than usual in the corner of the office today. It seems unlikely, therefore, that it will be able to goad my conscience, which has already with remarkable sangfroid allowed me to perfect the art of the disguised skive.

There may be further posts as the day wears on.
caddyman: (wobbly opus)
I have identified a technological oddity concerning the building I work in. We have what appear to be the only lifts in Christendom that are equipped with stealth technology.

I work on the 14th floor and because the building is occupied by a number of different organisations, each with their own security concerns, the stairs are out of bounds except during an emergency or a fire drill. It is important therefore that the lifts work properly.

I have noticed recently that the tones that announce their arrival on the floor have become more muted. If you are talking to someone it is easy to miss them. In fact it is easy to miss them when you are on your own unless you happen to be looking directly at the lift doors as they open. The internal lighting is subdued and the internal walls the same colour as the doors, so at a quick glance down the line, it is often only the actual movement of the door opening or closing that tells you which lift is present. Ironically, as the doors close, there is an electronic voice that tells you it is the 14th floor and the lift is going down. That recording is very audible indeed, so you know precisely which lift it is that is just too far away for you to get to and jam a leg into the closing doors to stop it leaving.

The cunning part is that as you get there another lift at the far end of the lobby will have arrived and will proceed to announce its departure in the same fashion. You can’t double bluff these lifts either, they are both stealthy and cunning.

Programmed for your inconvenience by the Karma PixiesTM.
caddyman: (wobbly opus)
I have identified a technological oddity concerning the building I work in. We have what appear to be the only lifts in Christendom that are equipped with stealth technology.

I work on the 14th floor and because the building is occupied by a number of different organisations, each with their own security concerns, the stairs are out of bounds except during an emergency or a fire drill. It is important therefore that the lifts work properly.

I have noticed recently that the tones that announce their arrival on the floor have become more muted. If you are talking to someone it is easy to miss them. In fact it is easy to miss them when you are on your own unless you happen to be looking directly at the lift doors as they open. The internal lighting is subdued and the internal walls the same colour as the doors, so at a quick glance down the line, it is often only the actual movement of the door opening or closing that tells you which lift is present. Ironically, as the doors close, there is an electronic voice that tells you it is the 14th floor and the lift is going down. That recording is very audible indeed, so you know precisely which lift it is that is just too far away for you to get to and jam a leg into the closing doors to stop it leaving.

The cunning part is that as you get there another lift at the far end of the lobby will have arrived and will proceed to announce its departure in the same fashion. You can’t double bluff these lifts either, they are both stealthy and cunning.

Programmed for your inconvenience by the Karma PixiesTM.

Word of the day

Thursday, May 10th, 2007 10:27 am
caddyman: (Default)
Much to my surprise, the time passer I set myself on our awayday (LJs passim) seems to be reluctant to die.

Therefore, today's word is THOROUGHFARE.

No two letter words, brand or proper names, please. Foreign words only where they can be demonstrated to have been accepted into English usage (ie a dictionary).

Go. Waste time on this instead of working.

That is all.

Word of the day

Thursday, May 10th, 2007 10:27 am
caddyman: (Default)
Much to my surprise, the time passer I set myself on our awayday (LJs passim) seems to be reluctant to die.

Therefore, today's word is THOROUGHFARE.

No two letter words, brand or proper names, please. Foreign words only where they can be demonstrated to have been accepted into English usage (ie a dictionary).

Go. Waste time on this instead of working.

That is all.
caddyman: (Morning!)
Oy, but I’m tired. Didn’t sleep so well last night for some reason and I was plum tuckered after the trip back to London, too; maybe that last cup of coffee around 12.30 was a touch less wise than it seemed at the time. Never mind, I shall be sneaking off early today. It’s games night. Actually I have cancelled games night as I will have family matters to attend to, but no need to tell the good people hereabouts that, eh?

Not as many emails awaiting my attention as I thought there would be. The rule telling the system to divert everything to the trash bin and delete it obviously works (I jest: it doesn’t). That said, I have only just managed to log in. The IT people did something clever to the servers over the weekend. They did something so clever that no-one could log on to the system. Hurrah. Clearly it’s all back up and running now, but it did take a while to get going and I quite liked being told that I was "LDAP Contextless: No LDAP server specified". I don’t know what it means as such, but it made me feel special.

Along with everyone else in the building. We’re all special.

Ah well, I could do some work, but frankly I am more likely to log on to the O2 website and work out what settings I need on my phone to be able to send and receive multi media messages. Not that I am, massively worried if I can’t fathom it, you understand, but since the phone and network are both capable of this feat of technology, I don’t see why I should have to miss out.

More drivel later, I would imagine, once the caffeine has soaked into my system properly.
caddyman: (Morning!)
Oy, but I’m tired. Didn’t sleep so well last night for some reason and I was plum tuckered after the trip back to London, too; maybe that last cup of coffee around 12.30 was a touch less wise than it seemed at the time. Never mind, I shall be sneaking off early today. It’s games night. Actually I have cancelled games night as I will have family matters to attend to, but no need to tell the good people hereabouts that, eh?

Not as many emails awaiting my attention as I thought there would be. The rule telling the system to divert everything to the trash bin and delete it obviously works (I jest: it doesn’t). That said, I have only just managed to log in. The IT people did something clever to the servers over the weekend. They did something so clever that no-one could log on to the system. Hurrah. Clearly it’s all back up and running now, but it did take a while to get going and I quite liked being told that I was "LDAP Contextless: No LDAP server specified". I don’t know what it means as such, but it made me feel special.

Along with everyone else in the building. We’re all special.

Ah well, I could do some work, but frankly I am more likely to log on to the O2 website and work out what settings I need on my phone to be able to send and receive multi media messages. Not that I am, massively worried if I can’t fathom it, you understand, but since the phone and network are both capable of this feat of technology, I don’t see why I should have to miss out.

More drivel later, I would imagine, once the caffeine has soaked into my system properly.

Passing the time

Monday, June 26th, 2006 02:50 pm
caddyman: (Default)
The world is all topsy-turvy again today. Only in a small way, but nonetheless the natural order is subverted just a little.

Outside the summer temperature and humidity levels have dropped to comfortable levels; there is even rain about (I had to use my tote brolly this morning). In short, it is overcast but pleasant; a proper English summer’s day with none of this semi tropical heat blowing across Spain and the Bay of Biscay wafting desert heat and dropping sand on us. It’s cool, it is damp and it is English.

Contrast this then, with an office where there are no opening windows, an office where the powers that be switched the air-conditioning off over the weekend while the weather was still ripe and Mediterranean, and have now either forgotten to switch it back on or have left it so late that it will have no realistic effect until tomorrow (probably midday tomorrow, bearing in mind that the system closes down at 6pm every evening).

The place is not fit for people to work in, though should these conditions prevail I might be interested in investing in a couple of sacks of potting compost and try my hand at growing tomatoes.

The air is oppressive and I am developing a mild headache. I don’t think it’s dehydration: it’s more like that feeling you get before a good thunderstorm, though I think we can all remember how well my predictions worked on the weather front (for once, no pun intended) a while back. Beside, my dickey foot isn’t playing up.

We shall see. Anyway, it’s games night tonight, so I shall be out of here around 4 ‘o’clock both to ensure that I am home when people arrive, and to give me the opportunity to nip into the pharmacy and order up a new prescription. I hope they have the renewal slip, as I don’t and I don’t fancy nipping down to the doctor’s surgery since they will want to know why I haven’t arranged the blood test they asked me for back in January1.

In other news, I seem to have inherited a couple of silver plated cigarette cases from my ex-boss. They are the sort that you would see people using at posh do’s in the ‘40s, ‘50s and ‘60s to show that they were big city sophisticates. That always struck me as odd even as a child; since I lived in an area that was semi rural in parts and strictly working class elsewhere (we had a colliery just a mile down the road, and open farmland a mile in the other direction. There was a sewage farm out there too, which could be quite exciting when the wind swung round to the north west as it did on occasion)2 and the height of sophistication was to eat a pot noodle in front of the telly while drinking a glass of something you had to uncork.

Like people, cigarettes were smaller in those days. You can probably get Woodbines in these cases, or even Players Navy Cut. You’re damned if you smoke something with a filter and king-size are definitely beyond the pale. Super kings? I don’t think so. Not even with the filters ripped off.

I guess they will make good props for role-playing games, if ever there are any of the correct periods. It does occur to me that I could fill them with roll-ups, but Golden Virginia goes really dry after a while if you aren’t careful and it’s like smoking a taper, which can be exciting if, like me, you sport a beard and moustache.

Onwards and upwards, I suppose.

Look busy, Bryan. Look busy; seventy-five minutes and you’re out of here...


1I shall actually arrange it sometime over the next month, it is just that doctors do so like sticking needles in one and extracting random fluids for their arcane practices. While this is probably natural for the profession, I dislike being a pin cushion to their whims and maintain a strict policy of allowing myself to be punctured and have blood extracted but once in every twelve months (unless I have Legionnaires Disease or something like that, which is entirely possible with this air-conditioning). Anyway, the anniversary of the great bleed is coming up, so I fancy that I have regenerated enough red cells to be able to indulge the quack for another year.

1Mind you, the fields around there were VERY fertile. The earth was black where the slurry was ploughed under, and after letting it lie fallow for a couple of years the farmers could grow strawberries the size of er… big strawberries.

Passing the time

Monday, June 26th, 2006 02:50 pm
caddyman: (Default)
The world is all topsy-turvy again today. Only in a small way, but nonetheless the natural order is subverted just a little.

Outside the summer temperature and humidity levels have dropped to comfortable levels; there is even rain about (I had to use my tote brolly this morning). In short, it is overcast but pleasant; a proper English summer’s day with none of this semi tropical heat blowing across Spain and the Bay of Biscay wafting desert heat and dropping sand on us. It’s cool, it is damp and it is English.

Contrast this then, with an office where there are no opening windows, an office where the powers that be switched the air-conditioning off over the weekend while the weather was still ripe and Mediterranean, and have now either forgotten to switch it back on or have left it so late that it will have no realistic effect until tomorrow (probably midday tomorrow, bearing in mind that the system closes down at 6pm every evening).

The place is not fit for people to work in, though should these conditions prevail I might be interested in investing in a couple of sacks of potting compost and try my hand at growing tomatoes.

The air is oppressive and I am developing a mild headache. I don’t think it’s dehydration: it’s more like that feeling you get before a good thunderstorm, though I think we can all remember how well my predictions worked on the weather front (for once, no pun intended) a while back. Beside, my dickey foot isn’t playing up.

We shall see. Anyway, it’s games night tonight, so I shall be out of here around 4 ‘o’clock both to ensure that I am home when people arrive, and to give me the opportunity to nip into the pharmacy and order up a new prescription. I hope they have the renewal slip, as I don’t and I don’t fancy nipping down to the doctor’s surgery since they will want to know why I haven’t arranged the blood test they asked me for back in January1.

In other news, I seem to have inherited a couple of silver plated cigarette cases from my ex-boss. They are the sort that you would see people using at posh do’s in the ‘40s, ‘50s and ‘60s to show that they were big city sophisticates. That always struck me as odd even as a child; since I lived in an area that was semi rural in parts and strictly working class elsewhere (we had a colliery just a mile down the road, and open farmland a mile in the other direction. There was a sewage farm out there too, which could be quite exciting when the wind swung round to the north west as it did on occasion)2 and the height of sophistication was to eat a pot noodle in front of the telly while drinking a glass of something you had to uncork.

Like people, cigarettes were smaller in those days. You can probably get Woodbines in these cases, or even Players Navy Cut. You’re damned if you smoke something with a filter and king-size are definitely beyond the pale. Super kings? I don’t think so. Not even with the filters ripped off.

I guess they will make good props for role-playing games, if ever there are any of the correct periods. It does occur to me that I could fill them with roll-ups, but Golden Virginia goes really dry after a while if you aren’t careful and it’s like smoking a taper, which can be exciting if, like me, you sport a beard and moustache.

Onwards and upwards, I suppose.

Look busy, Bryan. Look busy; seventy-five minutes and you’re out of here...


1I shall actually arrange it sometime over the next month, it is just that doctors do so like sticking needles in one and extracting random fluids for their arcane practices. While this is probably natural for the profession, I dislike being a pin cushion to their whims and maintain a strict policy of allowing myself to be punctured and have blood extracted but once in every twelve months (unless I have Legionnaires Disease or something like that, which is entirely possible with this air-conditioning). Anyway, the anniversary of the great bleed is coming up, so I fancy that I have regenerated enough red cells to be able to indulge the quack for another year.

1Mind you, the fields around there were VERY fertile. The earth was black where the slurry was ploughed under, and after letting it lie fallow for a couple of years the farmers could grow strawberries the size of er… big strawberries.
caddyman: (smoking)
This doesn’t really bode well at all. When I woke up this morning – after the ritual yawn and the obligatory hour sitting around muttering OGodOGodOGodOGod (the closest I’m likely to come to a prayer most of the time) I thought to myself about all the bits and pieces I need to do in the office this week. I had a plan.

Now I’m here, I just want to go to sleep. I’m on my second cup of coffee and I have been here a mere 55 minutes.

Part of the problem, I think, is that I didn’t get my thunderstorm last night. I was looking forward to it and it never came. The telltale pressure behind the eyes wasn’t so telltale after all (maybe I should invest in a pine cone) and probably had more to do with blood pressure and/or dehydration than it did the weather. Thinking back on it, I should have known. My dodgy ankle didn’t give me gyp in the way it usually does just before a good storm, but I was so looking forward to a good downpour and CGI quality lightning that I let that wash over me.

I don’t know what today holds weather wise, but I hope that any potential storms will hold off until I’ve got home this evening so that I can enjoy them properly. They are wasted at work while I am in an air conditioned cocoon.

This coming lunchtime I must away to the bank and cash a couple of cheques that are now perilously close to their expiration dates. I am lazy, but I am not rich, so although I can effortlessly hold off cashing them for three months, I cannot afford to maintain that level of laxity. This will take me past The Army and Navy on Victoria Street, so I shall pop in there and investigate the price of England shirts – all previous attempts to make that purchase having been thwarted by a combination of poor luck, bad planning and general incompetence.

I am going to go and have a smoke now and then I suppose I ought to at least attempt to do what I am supposed to be here for.

Games night tonight, though. Clear off home early. Fantastic.

I wonder when they will start noticing that I am going home early twice a week for the same games night…?
caddyman: (smoking)
This doesn’t really bode well at all. When I woke up this morning – after the ritual yawn and the obligatory hour sitting around muttering OGodOGodOGodOGod (the closest I’m likely to come to a prayer most of the time) I thought to myself about all the bits and pieces I need to do in the office this week. I had a plan.

Now I’m here, I just want to go to sleep. I’m on my second cup of coffee and I have been here a mere 55 minutes.

Part of the problem, I think, is that I didn’t get my thunderstorm last night. I was looking forward to it and it never came. The telltale pressure behind the eyes wasn’t so telltale after all (maybe I should invest in a pine cone) and probably had more to do with blood pressure and/or dehydration than it did the weather. Thinking back on it, I should have known. My dodgy ankle didn’t give me gyp in the way it usually does just before a good storm, but I was so looking forward to a good downpour and CGI quality lightning that I let that wash over me.

I don’t know what today holds weather wise, but I hope that any potential storms will hold off until I’ve got home this evening so that I can enjoy them properly. They are wasted at work while I am in an air conditioned cocoon.

This coming lunchtime I must away to the bank and cash a couple of cheques that are now perilously close to their expiration dates. I am lazy, but I am not rich, so although I can effortlessly hold off cashing them for three months, I cannot afford to maintain that level of laxity. This will take me past The Army and Navy on Victoria Street, so I shall pop in there and investigate the price of England shirts – all previous attempts to make that purchase having been thwarted by a combination of poor luck, bad planning and general incompetence.

I am going to go and have a smoke now and then I suppose I ought to at least attempt to do what I am supposed to be here for.

Games night tonight, though. Clear off home early. Fantastic.

I wonder when they will start noticing that I am going home early twice a week for the same games night…?
caddyman: (Default)
I am now in the middle of that awkward period at work where I want to go home but have left it just too late to hit the Tube before the rush and must now wait biggest part of an hour until it dies down again. This is made all the more annoying by the fact that I have booked tomorrow off to make the bank holiday weekend suitably lengthy.

I must now try and look reasonably busy without contravening my own personal code, which states bluntly at times like this swing the lead. Satisfyingly, I can scribble on LJ and look as though I am working. The fact that I am reaching for anything of import to talk about is irrelevant; I am just about to start five days away from the office (including the weekend, but what the heck), which means that I can sleep in, wander around aimlessly and generally faff like a good ‘un.

Hurrah!

That said, I did promise myself that some work would go into spring cleaning The Tower, so I may well start on that tomorrow. Loud music, gallons of coffee and a duster. Oh, and I guess the vacuum cleaner, too, though that may mean giving up all hope of ever finding the last piece of part-repaired Buffy. Oh well, can’t have everything.

The sun is shining outside right now, which is a rather pleasant development (provided it’s not too hot, of course). My inherited Goth cough seems to have gone – there was a slight relapse earlier, a bit like that last big wave that sweeps up the beach as the tide recedes, but apart from that, there is nothing but the occasional clearing of the throat. Those of you who got the cold and are now into the coughing stage take heart, if old leather lungs Lea can dispense with it after comparatively few days, it should be a doddle for you clean living types.

I am now going to try and delete a message from my office answer phone which refuses to die. Some spod, clearly not listening to the message, asked politely to be put through to someone to talk about rents and then waited patiently for about 10 minutes before hanging up. I don’t need a 10 minute recording of someone breathing, but it doesn’t seem to want to delete, either. I may use a hammer.
caddyman: (Default)
I am now in the middle of that awkward period at work where I want to go home but have left it just too late to hit the Tube before the rush and must now wait biggest part of an hour until it dies down again. This is made all the more annoying by the fact that I have booked tomorrow off to make the bank holiday weekend suitably lengthy.

I must now try and look reasonably busy without contravening my own personal code, which states bluntly at times like this swing the lead. Satisfyingly, I can scribble on LJ and look as though I am working. The fact that I am reaching for anything of import to talk about is irrelevant; I am just about to start five days away from the office (including the weekend, but what the heck), which means that I can sleep in, wander around aimlessly and generally faff like a good ‘un.

Hurrah!

That said, I did promise myself that some work would go into spring cleaning The Tower, so I may well start on that tomorrow. Loud music, gallons of coffee and a duster. Oh, and I guess the vacuum cleaner, too, though that may mean giving up all hope of ever finding the last piece of part-repaired Buffy. Oh well, can’t have everything.

The sun is shining outside right now, which is a rather pleasant development (provided it’s not too hot, of course). My inherited Goth cough seems to have gone – there was a slight relapse earlier, a bit like that last big wave that sweeps up the beach as the tide recedes, but apart from that, there is nothing but the occasional clearing of the throat. Those of you who got the cold and are now into the coughing stage take heart, if old leather lungs Lea can dispense with it after comparatively few days, it should be a doddle for you clean living types.

I am now going to try and delete a message from my office answer phone which refuses to die. Some spod, clearly not listening to the message, asked politely to be put through to someone to talk about rents and then waited patiently for about 10 minutes before hanging up. I don’t need a 10 minute recording of someone breathing, but it doesn’t seem to want to delete, either. I may use a hammer.

Fancy that

Wednesday, March 22nd, 2006 12:39 pm
caddyman: (Default)
I should be working, I really should; I have a lot to get through.

However, I have just discovered that a job that I thought would be really rather easy is going to be a bit of a bugger, so I have decided to write here for a couple of minutes in frustrated petulance. I do not have much to say right now, you understand, but I have committed myself to some moments industrial strength time wasting, and I am damned if I am going to waste that time wasting by doodling or reading the paper when I could be doing this. It’s a matter of pride, see.

This is the awkward bit in not having anything to write about. I’ve already told you all the salient background to the entry, which means that I am now thrown back upon my own devices to fill out space. This is rather disconcerting, rather like the embarrassing gaps in conversation you get when you unexpectedly meet people you weren’t expecting, and can’t think of anything at all to break the ice.

Quite why that should be, I don’t know; it’s not as if we haven’t all had those moments of exasperated quietude which drops the whole world but yourself into bullet time, and stretches a minute out into a length of time that would make even the controller of the Northern Line blanch.

For some reason, the internet connection here in the office has been glacially slow these past few days and it is like being back on dial up, but without the comforting twitter of the modem.

Today is [livejournal.com profile] immerwahr’s birthday, though his actual age is a mystery, I expect him to be substantially younger than the average trilobite. It may be of comfort to know that he shares this day with Marcel Marceau (83), George Benson (63), Lord Lloyd-Webber (58) and, perhaps most impressively, William Shatner (75).

I have failed to come up with any witty comment about these people all sharing the same birthday, so I shall now return to what I was doing safe in the knowledge that I have wasted time to great effect.

Fancy that

Wednesday, March 22nd, 2006 12:39 pm
caddyman: (Default)
I should be working, I really should; I have a lot to get through.

However, I have just discovered that a job that I thought would be really rather easy is going to be a bit of a bugger, so I have decided to write here for a couple of minutes in frustrated petulance. I do not have much to say right now, you understand, but I have committed myself to some moments industrial strength time wasting, and I am damned if I am going to waste that time wasting by doodling or reading the paper when I could be doing this. It’s a matter of pride, see.

This is the awkward bit in not having anything to write about. I’ve already told you all the salient background to the entry, which means that I am now thrown back upon my own devices to fill out space. This is rather disconcerting, rather like the embarrassing gaps in conversation you get when you unexpectedly meet people you weren’t expecting, and can’t think of anything at all to break the ice.

Quite why that should be, I don’t know; it’s not as if we haven’t all had those moments of exasperated quietude which drops the whole world but yourself into bullet time, and stretches a minute out into a length of time that would make even the controller of the Northern Line blanch.

For some reason, the internet connection here in the office has been glacially slow these past few days and it is like being back on dial up, but without the comforting twitter of the modem.

Today is [livejournal.com profile] immerwahr’s birthday, though his actual age is a mystery, I expect him to be substantially younger than the average trilobite. It may be of comfort to know that he shares this day with Marcel Marceau (83), George Benson (63), Lord Lloyd-Webber (58) and, perhaps most impressively, William Shatner (75).

I have failed to come up with any witty comment about these people all sharing the same birthday, so I shall now return to what I was doing safe in the knowledge that I have wasted time to great effect.

Grind, grind, grind...

Wednesday, August 24th, 2005 04:25 pm
caddyman: (Default)
I have perked up quite considerably since this morning. I reckon that if I go home early again, and get an extended amount of kip, all will be well again, though I shall be keeping a close eye on this blood sugar malarkey; I have no intention of having to take more medication than I am already on, thank you very much.

I think [livejournal.com profile] caffeine_fairy is right: I need a holiday. I shall be booking a week off in September for the annual trip to the coast with me silver-haired Ma, and this time I shall have to co-ordinate it with my eldest niece's 18th birthday. Now that makes me feel old. (How old does it make Mum feel?).

In the spirit of taking the opportunities as they come to you, I have spent some of today trying to write an NWO character sheet - or at least what I can ahead of the big plot meet in 10 days' time or so. I am beginning to think that this year off was a poor idea, as I am finding it very hard to keep going. I have managed a little over a page and a half and am struggling. Mind you, that is a page and a half of 10 point, with none of the quotations and things we normally stuff in between sections, and no -as yet- fancy title piece. Add those in, and it's probably good for another page, so I shouldn't be too disheartened. I may try writing some more tonight, but frankly, the footie is on telly, and I want to get to bed comparatively early as mentioned earlier.

I also have CDs to burn. I rather rashly mentioned bit torrents to a chap at work, and the fact that I am downloading the two Stargates and BSG. I now have an audience for them, and am beginning to understand how [livejournal.com profile] romney must feel, though with fewer hamster references.

On a completely unrelated note, the weather outside suggests that Autumn has popped in to see where it will be working in a couple of months time. It is wet and windy and rather gloomy. Nice.

Grind, grind, grind...

Wednesday, August 24th, 2005 04:25 pm
caddyman: (Default)
I have perked up quite considerably since this morning. I reckon that if I go home early again, and get an extended amount of kip, all will be well again, though I shall be keeping a close eye on this blood sugar malarkey; I have no intention of having to take more medication than I am already on, thank you very much.

I think [livejournal.com profile] caffeine_fairy is right: I need a holiday. I shall be booking a week off in September for the annual trip to the coast with me silver-haired Ma, and this time I shall have to co-ordinate it with my eldest niece's 18th birthday. Now that makes me feel old. (How old does it make Mum feel?).

In the spirit of taking the opportunities as they come to you, I have spent some of today trying to write an NWO character sheet - or at least what I can ahead of the big plot meet in 10 days' time or so. I am beginning to think that this year off was a poor idea, as I am finding it very hard to keep going. I have managed a little over a page and a half and am struggling. Mind you, that is a page and a half of 10 point, with none of the quotations and things we normally stuff in between sections, and no -as yet- fancy title piece. Add those in, and it's probably good for another page, so I shouldn't be too disheartened. I may try writing some more tonight, but frankly, the footie is on telly, and I want to get to bed comparatively early as mentioned earlier.

I also have CDs to burn. I rather rashly mentioned bit torrents to a chap at work, and the fact that I am downloading the two Stargates and BSG. I now have an audience for them, and am beginning to understand how [livejournal.com profile] romney must feel, though with fewer hamster references.

On a completely unrelated note, the weather outside suggests that Autumn has popped in to see where it will be working in a couple of months time. It is wet and windy and rather gloomy. Nice.

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