(no subject)

Oo.

Slept poorly last night. Or rather, I slept OK once I drifted off, I think, but it seemed to take ages, and felt as if it was well past three. So I feel a touch tired this morning.

Probably down to the office visit to Belgo yesterday. That went well, although when we adjourned to a pub afterwards, I could have done with going to just about anywhere down The Strand rather than as happened, decamping to the first pub available. I know that Watney's is no longer brewed in the UK, but to go into a place with an old Watney's proprietary sign on the outside should have sent warnings to people. Well, it did to me. I had the worst pint of Spitfire ever served. I had to obtain a half of lemonade to make it a barely palatable shandy.

Oh dear.

Still, the rest of the afternoon was fine.

But by crackey, I was full. Can't complain about the size of Belgo portions. This may have been part of the reason I couldn't sleep, despite it being so many hours later. I don't know.

Still, tired. Never mind; it's Friday.

(no subject)

Oo.

Slept poorly last night. Or rather, I slept OK once I drifted off, I think, but it seemed to take ages, and felt as if it was well past three. So I feel a touch tired this morning.

Probably down to the office visit to Belgo yesterday. That went well, although when we adjourned to a pub afterwards, I could have done with going to just about anywhere down The Strand rather than as happened, decamping to the first pub available. I know that Watney's is no longer brewed in the UK, but to go into a place with an old Watney's proprietary sign on the outside should have sent warnings to people. Well, it did to me. I had the worst pint of Spitfire ever served. I had to obtain a half of lemonade to make it a barely palatable shandy.

Oh dear.

Still, the rest of the afternoon was fine.

But by crackey, I was full. Can't complain about the size of Belgo portions. This may have been part of the reason I couldn't sleep, despite it being so many hours later. I don't know.

Still, tired. Never mind; it's Friday.

What price the Strawbs?

I can't say that I am enjoying today over much.

I'm still tired, but copious amounts of caffeine are at least maintaining the status quo. The problem is, that for one reason or another, everyone wants information that only I, it seems, have access to, or understanding of, and they all want it on Monday or Tuesday next week. The fact that I have two meetings on Monday, robbing me of most of the day, doesn't enter into anyone's calculations. Neither does the fact that my lackey is off on long term sick, so I have no support on the more mundane aspects of the job. I am covering my job, the lackey's job -so we're running a backlog there, too, and anything that the boss sends down.

None of this takes any account of the actions of other people who assume that we all have time to deal with them exclusively, so that an hour's deadline for a complex briefing is really quite acceptable, thank you.

Just for a giggle, the heating seems to be super-efficient, too. Just at a time when the local weather is not only quite mild, but the sun is pouring in through the glass. Shall we sleep? it sings.

I noted on the way in to work - though I am aware that it may be the fatigue inducing hallucinations - that we are entering a period of 1967 or 1968. Certainly several youths on the Tube were sporting the earnestly fashionable haircuts that are more associated with students of that era. Students and folk/pop musicians. The numbers are still comparatively low at the moment, but at the current rate of progression, come the end of March, the Beatles' haircuts showcased in the gatefold photo on Sgt Pepper will again be the height of fashion.

The next stage, of course, will be to see if the mandatory second stage is achieved, and the little beards and goatees become de rigeur to accompany said haircuts.

Will every male under the age of thirty slowly transform into a Dave Cousins clone? And given that it's not so long ago that I had a 1974 flashback, will the next stage involve girls in bleached beehive hairdos, and blokes in drainpipes and winkle-pickers, circa 1962?

It's a funny place, London. Especially when you're tired.

What price the Strawbs?

I can't say that I am enjoying today over much.

I'm still tired, but copious amounts of caffeine are at least maintaining the status quo. The problem is, that for one reason or another, everyone wants information that only I, it seems, have access to, or understanding of, and they all want it on Monday or Tuesday next week. The fact that I have two meetings on Monday, robbing me of most of the day, doesn't enter into anyone's calculations. Neither does the fact that my lackey is off on long term sick, so I have no support on the more mundane aspects of the job. I am covering my job, the lackey's job -so we're running a backlog there, too, and anything that the boss sends down.

None of this takes any account of the actions of other people who assume that we all have time to deal with them exclusively, so that an hour's deadline for a complex briefing is really quite acceptable, thank you.

Just for a giggle, the heating seems to be super-efficient, too. Just at a time when the local weather is not only quite mild, but the sun is pouring in through the glass. Shall we sleep? it sings.

I noted on the way in to work - though I am aware that it may be the fatigue inducing hallucinations - that we are entering a period of 1967 or 1968. Certainly several youths on the Tube were sporting the earnestly fashionable haircuts that are more associated with students of that era. Students and folk/pop musicians. The numbers are still comparatively low at the moment, but at the current rate of progression, come the end of March, the Beatles' haircuts showcased in the gatefold photo on Sgt Pepper will again be the height of fashion.

The next stage, of course, will be to see if the mandatory second stage is achieved, and the little beards and goatees become de rigeur to accompany said haircuts.

Will every male under the age of thirty slowly transform into a Dave Cousins clone? And given that it's not so long ago that I had a 1974 flashback, will the next stage involve girls in bleached beehive hairdos, and blokes in drainpipes and winkle-pickers, circa 1962?

It's a funny place, London. Especially when you're tired.

Doctor Who

Just on the off chance that you're interested, and haven't seen it yet:



Broadcast start date for the new series is strongly rumoured to be the Saturday 26 March 2005.

At tea time on BBC1.

When else?

Doctor Who

Just on the off chance that you're interested, and haven't seen it yet:



Broadcast start date for the new series is strongly rumoured to be the Saturday 26 March 2005.

At tea time on BBC1.

When else?