Back in the saddle

Well, back in London after the shortest-seeming long weekend on record.

I was right, I didn't want to come back, but nonetheless, I did. Strength of character, or lack of backbone? You decide. (Hint: I'm voting column A). I'm still not happy with work, I'm still going to think about what to do about it, but as usual, I'm too lazy to keep a bad mood going, so I shall just tell it like it is when I go into the office next. The job bores me rigid, I hate the place and I want a move. Boss can say what she likes; I'm past caring.

But I'm not pissed off with life in general anymore.

For those who are interested in these things, Shropshire is still in the clutches of winter. Far more so than Londinium. It's much colder, damper and, gosh-darn it, at night it's downright parky. On the train back down this afternoon, I took a good long look at the scenery in all its naked winter beauty. The trees have that grey-green dead coral look to them, and the fields are an empty, muddy red-brown (there's a lot is sandstone in Shropshire). What green there is has that tired, deep winter look to it, brushed through with just too much blue and a hint of grey to subdue it. We are still a month or so away from that day when the greenery wakes up to find that yellow filters have been added and all is bright and fresh.

Nature in the Harlescott area of Shrewsbury seems to be playing Hitchcock some kind of homage. There are tens of thousands of European Starlings flying around the area in great black clouds. Apparently they are wintering there from the much harsher temperatures in Europe. It seems that this is the second year they have done so, but for the life of me I can't recall seeing them twelve months ago. According to the Shropshire Star, local business men tired of finding 10" of guano around their property every morning have applied for permission to fell the trees in the area so the Starlings will have no where to perch at night.

So much for conservation. And the Starlings will be leaving to head back to the continent in about a month anyway.

Myself, I'd bag all this bird dropping and sell it to a garden centre. Or dry it out to make gunpowder. It rather depends if I wanted to grow something or blow it up at the time. Either way, I doubt I'd want to chop the trees down.

Anyway, I'm off to get something to eat. I have to decide whether to watch my newly arrived copy of Underworld (Kate Beckinsale in a PVC cat suit... Nurse, the Screens!) tonight or do some work on NWO.

Probably a bit of both.

Back in the saddle

Well, back in London after the shortest-seeming long weekend on record.

I was right, I didn't want to come back, but nonetheless, I did. Strength of character, or lack of backbone? You decide. (Hint: I'm voting column A). I'm still not happy with work, I'm still going to think about what to do about it, but as usual, I'm too lazy to keep a bad mood going, so I shall just tell it like it is when I go into the office next. The job bores me rigid, I hate the place and I want a move. Boss can say what she likes; I'm past caring.

But I'm not pissed off with life in general anymore.

For those who are interested in these things, Shropshire is still in the clutches of winter. Far more so than Londinium. It's much colder, damper and, gosh-darn it, at night it's downright parky. On the train back down this afternoon, I took a good long look at the scenery in all its naked winter beauty. The trees have that grey-green dead coral look to them, and the fields are an empty, muddy red-brown (there's a lot is sandstone in Shropshire). What green there is has that tired, deep winter look to it, brushed through with just too much blue and a hint of grey to subdue it. We are still a month or so away from that day when the greenery wakes up to find that yellow filters have been added and all is bright and fresh.

Nature in the Harlescott area of Shrewsbury seems to be playing Hitchcock some kind of homage. There are tens of thousands of European Starlings flying around the area in great black clouds. Apparently they are wintering there from the much harsher temperatures in Europe. It seems that this is the second year they have done so, but for the life of me I can't recall seeing them twelve months ago. According to the Shropshire Star, local business men tired of finding 10" of guano around their property every morning have applied for permission to fell the trees in the area so the Starlings will have no where to perch at night.

So much for conservation. And the Starlings will be leaving to head back to the continent in about a month anyway.

Myself, I'd bag all this bird dropping and sell it to a garden centre. Or dry it out to make gunpowder. It rather depends if I wanted to grow something or blow it up at the time. Either way, I doubt I'd want to chop the trees down.

Anyway, I'm off to get something to eat. I have to decide whether to watch my newly arrived copy of Underworld (Kate Beckinsale in a PVC cat suit... Nurse, the Screens!) tonight or do some work on NWO.

Probably a bit of both.