Must..get..a..life

One of the good things about being a civil servant - and there aren't too many of them, if you discount reasonable working conditions, job security, a solid pension, 30 days a year paid leave, flexible working hours and such - is that twice a year we get an additional day on the bank holiday. Today is one of them, so I'm at home and you, probably, are not. Snub!

Enjoyment of the weekend has been hampered by the failing intarweb connection, which has seen the Athenaeum Club off line for over 24 hours in two fractious periods during the weekend. It's a sign of tech dependence when this becomes an important feature of life: despite the fact that I had nothing practical or important to use the intarweb for, being cut off from the world in such a rude and prolonged fashion left me narked and only just short of pacing like a caged sloth animal. Oh, how I wish for it to be pre-1995. I have forgotten how to live without the Internet and a mobile phone. Even when I'm not using them, I have to know they're there just in case. Plus, I'd still be in my mid thirties, and able to pretend that being a fogey was a fashion statement, not a genetic imperative.

So, the weekend - the non-pacing-around bits: Well, I've caught up on a lot of badly needed sleep, met up with drjohnsilence and family while they are over, briefly from the States. Today I am wandering up West to faff about a bit, maybe spend money I haven't got on things I don't need - always a winner - and then at 5.30 I am attending a friend's book launch in the Civil Service Club off Whitehall. What started five years ago as a piece of background research to answer a Parliamentary Question has blossomed into two complete volumes, "Remembrance" and "British War Memorials". Years ago, safe in the knowledge that he'd never finish, I promised that I'd have a signed first edition off him. Now I have to honour that pledge.

Still, though they're not novels, it's nice that at least one person of my acquaintance has managed to get something properly printed, bound and published, even if only for a specialist market.

Canapé, anyone?

Must..get..a..life

One of the good things about being a civil servant - and there aren't too many of them, if you discount reasonable working conditions, job security, a solid pension, 30 days a year paid leave, flexible working hours and such - is that twice a year we get an additional day on the bank holiday. Today is one of them, so I'm at home and you, probably, are not. Snub!

Enjoyment of the weekend has been hampered by the failing intarweb connection, which has seen the Athenaeum Club off line for over 24 hours in two fractious periods during the weekend. It's a sign of tech dependence when this becomes an important feature of life: despite the fact that I had nothing practical or important to use the intarweb for, being cut off from the world in such a rude and prolonged fashion left me narked and only just short of pacing like a caged sloth animal. Oh, how I wish for it to be pre-1995. I have forgotten how to live without the Internet and a mobile phone. Even when I'm not using them, I have to know they're there just in case. Plus, I'd still be in my mid thirties, and able to pretend that being a fogey was a fashion statement, not a genetic imperative.

So, the weekend - the non-pacing-around bits: Well, I've caught up on a lot of badly needed sleep, met up with drjohnsilence and family while they are over, briefly from the States. Today I am wandering up West to faff about a bit, maybe spend money I haven't got on things I don't need - always a winner - and then at 5.30 I am attending a friend's book launch in the Civil Service Club off Whitehall. What started five years ago as a piece of background research to answer a Parliamentary Question has blossomed into two complete volumes, "Remembrance" and "British War Memorials". Years ago, safe in the knowledge that he'd never finish, I promised that I'd have a signed first edition off him. Now I have to honour that pledge.

Still, though they're not novels, it's nice that at least one person of my acquaintance has managed to get something properly printed, bound and published, even if only for a specialist market.

Canapé, anyone?