Wasn't Pathos a Musketeer?

Wan.

I think that’s the word I want, though not in its fullest sense; more in the sense of a suggestion of faintness, or dimness, I think. A certain feeling of being spread too thin, without actually being in ill-health or unhappy: more a feeling of ennui, I guess. Either way, that’s the feeling this morning, more so than the average Monday morning blues, it’s that deep breath followed by a listless exhalation: poot. Maybe it’s the change in the weather, I don’t know, but certainly both Elle and I felt it this morning. Of course, being too lazy to drag myself out of my pit until the last conceivable moment didn’t help; so there was no coffee drunk until I got to the office. Two cups later and the ennui has gone to be replaced by that lovely caffeinated energy we all crave¹.

The weather is much cooler today and there is a fair old breeze, which is doing little to dispel the humidity. It feels as though there should be a fine old thunder storm on the way, but I don’t think there is. I am inclined, therefore, to ascribe this general malaise to atmospheric conditions and leave it at that.

I resisted the urge on Saturday to buy a TARDIS USB hub. That feat of willpower will not last long; already I can feel the pull of the thing on my psyche and I know that I shall buy one². As I have stated before, a man cannot have too many TARDISes, and like the biscuit barrel TARDIS, this one also has an actual use.

Elle has wandered off home this morning with all the trepidation of one who has to write 15,000 words of thesis in 6 days and finish editing and deliver the paper for marking on the seventh. Don’t expect to see her on MSN much over the next week; she’s not being antisocial, she is adhering to a plan which will give her the time to finish the work.

Speaking of work, we have been dropped in it again and I have just about managed to put off a last minute meeting in Romford this afternoon, but will probably have to go on Thursday instead. I really don’t know why we have to go: it’s not our policy, it belongs to another department entirely and the agenda items which are relevant to us are too ill-defined to be worth discussing at this stage. Still, it will be a chunk of time out of the office, but not so far away that I can’t get home comparatively easily.

Makes a change I suppose.

Last night we watched Ken and Emm in Much Ado About Nothing on video: a reasonable cinematic outing of one of the Bard’s lesser works³. Enjoyable enough, but I liked it better when we went out afterwards to Pizza Express for something to eat and a bottle of passable red.

And I think that’s about it. I’m of home early this afternoon for games evening and to begin the countdown for the close on a fortnight before I see My Girl again.

There’s ennui for you. Or maybe wan.


¹All right thinking people, that is.

²Just to put this example of self-restraint into context, I managed to blow more money that is strictly sensible on DVDs: Three volumes of Laurel and Hardy shorts including the feature length “Way Out West” (which always cracks me up), La Reine Margot and a replacement copy of Kill Bill, Vol.2. In addition I seem to have acquired a die cast Stingray for me and a Cyberman for Elle.

³By Crackey, whatever else his strengths, Bill was no psychologist and most of the characters in this particular oeuvre are sketchily drawn and shallow at best. And how old was Kate Beckinsale when this was filmed, 14? Blimey.

Wasn't Pathos a Musketeer?

Wan.

I think that’s the word I want, though not in its fullest sense; more in the sense of a suggestion of faintness, or dimness, I think. A certain feeling of being spread too thin, without actually being in ill-health or unhappy: more a feeling of ennui, I guess. Either way, that’s the feeling this morning, more so than the average Monday morning blues, it’s that deep breath followed by a listless exhalation: poot. Maybe it’s the change in the weather, I don’t know, but certainly both Elle and I felt it this morning. Of course, being too lazy to drag myself out of my pit until the last conceivable moment didn’t help; so there was no coffee drunk until I got to the office. Two cups later and the ennui has gone to be replaced by that lovely caffeinated energy we all crave¹.

The weather is much cooler today and there is a fair old breeze, which is doing little to dispel the humidity. It feels as though there should be a fine old thunder storm on the way, but I don’t think there is. I am inclined, therefore, to ascribe this general malaise to atmospheric conditions and leave it at that.

I resisted the urge on Saturday to buy a TARDIS USB hub. That feat of willpower will not last long; already I can feel the pull of the thing on my psyche and I know that I shall buy one². As I have stated before, a man cannot have too many TARDISes, and like the biscuit barrel TARDIS, this one also has an actual use.

Elle has wandered off home this morning with all the trepidation of one who has to write 15,000 words of thesis in 6 days and finish editing and deliver the paper for marking on the seventh. Don’t expect to see her on MSN much over the next week; she’s not being antisocial, she is adhering to a plan which will give her the time to finish the work.

Speaking of work, we have been dropped in it again and I have just about managed to put off a last minute meeting in Romford this afternoon, but will probably have to go on Thursday instead. I really don’t know why we have to go: it’s not our policy, it belongs to another department entirely and the agenda items which are relevant to us are too ill-defined to be worth discussing at this stage. Still, it will be a chunk of time out of the office, but not so far away that I can’t get home comparatively easily.

Makes a change I suppose.

Last night we watched Ken and Emm in Much Ado About Nothing on video: a reasonable cinematic outing of one of the Bard’s lesser works³. Enjoyable enough, but I liked it better when we went out afterwards to Pizza Express for something to eat and a bottle of passable red.

And I think that’s about it. I’m of home early this afternoon for games evening and to begin the countdown for the close on a fortnight before I see My Girl again.

There’s ennui for you. Or maybe wan.


¹All right thinking people, that is.

²Just to put this example of self-restraint into context, I managed to blow more money that is strictly sensible on DVDs: Three volumes of Laurel and Hardy shorts including the feature length “Way Out West” (which always cracks me up), La Reine Margot and a replacement copy of Kill Bill, Vol.2. In addition I seem to have acquired a die cast Stingray for me and a Cyberman for Elle.

³By Crackey, whatever else his strengths, Bill was no psychologist and most of the characters in this particular oeuvre are sketchily drawn and shallow at best. And how old was Kate Beckinsale when this was filmed, 14? Blimey.