Bored

I am baking hot. I have just asked everyone else in my immediate area whether the office is warm or whether it’s just me. It’s just me. I feel absolutely fine other than the fact that I feel as though you could fry an egg on me. I’m not running a temperature or anything as my forehead and arms feel cool to the touch, it’s one of those feel hot but radiate no additional heat moments.

Still, if the office is cool and I’m warm I shouldn’t complain too much, I suppose.

I am still somewhat at war with this bloody chair: I really am not a great fan of the design and it seems to be encouraging me to sit angled forward instead of back, so it can’t be good for my back in the long run.

Plus I have to train myself to sit differently anyway. When I have been at my desk for any length of time and stand up, my legs feel stiff and I can only hobble along for the first couple of minutes or so. That at least is my fault, not the chair’s. I have developed a habit over the years of sitting with my legs, which are hardly supple and slender anyway, hooked around the feet of the chair. I would have got away with it a few years ago, but the old pins are a little less forgiving nowadays.

Hmm. I don’t feel so hot now. Maybe I just needed a mild grumble about something inconsequential to cool down.

Nothing is happening today; to report otherwise would stretch even my abilities to exaggerate. Best get on and do some work, I suppose. Yep, it’s that dull.

I have just discovered that Photograph a compilation of the 20 best solo Ringo tracks (10 top tenners!) was released at the end of August. How did I miss that, and do I trust Play.com to deliver me a copy when I am still waiting for The Beatles Live at the BBC which seems to have disappeared into the aether?

Something to ponder.

Bored

I am baking hot. I have just asked everyone else in my immediate area whether the office is warm or whether it’s just me. It’s just me. I feel absolutely fine other than the fact that I feel as though you could fry an egg on me. I’m not running a temperature or anything as my forehead and arms feel cool to the touch, it’s one of those feel hot but radiate no additional heat moments.

Still, if the office is cool and I’m warm I shouldn’t complain too much, I suppose.

I am still somewhat at war with this bloody chair: I really am not a great fan of the design and it seems to be encouraging me to sit angled forward instead of back, so it can’t be good for my back in the long run.

Plus I have to train myself to sit differently anyway. When I have been at my desk for any length of time and stand up, my legs feel stiff and I can only hobble along for the first couple of minutes or so. That at least is my fault, not the chair’s. I have developed a habit over the years of sitting with my legs, which are hardly supple and slender anyway, hooked around the feet of the chair. I would have got away with it a few years ago, but the old pins are a little less forgiving nowadays.

Hmm. I don’t feel so hot now. Maybe I just needed a mild grumble about something inconsequential to cool down.

Nothing is happening today; to report otherwise would stretch even my abilities to exaggerate. Best get on and do some work, I suppose. Yep, it’s that dull.

I have just discovered that Photograph a compilation of the 20 best solo Ringo tracks (10 top tenners!) was released at the end of August. How did I miss that, and do I trust Play.com to deliver me a copy when I am still waiting for The Beatles Live at the BBC which seems to have disappeared into the aether?

Something to ponder.