Odds and sods

Why I have to live in a world where "long weekends" are too short, is beyond me; it one of the great mysteries of life.

Here I am, just getting to enjoy my time away from the office and I have to be up and out to go to work in seven hours or so. I have searched my family tree within the decent bounds on consanguinity and have to report that neither land nor money nor saleable-on-the-American-market-Earldoms are destined to come my way. This means that unless pure chance strikes, I am doomed to making a living as a 9-5 drone for the remainder of my allotted span. Maybe I should give pure blind chance a hand by buying a lottery ticket?

Still, it is a three-day week for me. I have booked Friday and the following Monday off for a trip up home to Sunny Shropshire. My nephew is 18 on Thursday and Mum is 80 on Monday. This is a combination of significant dates that requires the presence of the Son and Heir, especially a son and heir who has not ventured home since Christmas.

I have no idea yet, what to get Mum for her birthday; I am sure that something will suggest itself. My nephew, on the other hand, is displaying distressingly chav-like tastes and I am informed by my sister that she has bought him a three lions ring - presumably based upon the FA's England badge. My niece is buying him a Liverpool ring, God help us, and Mum has asked if I will pitch in toward the cost of a Liverpool FC chain for the lad. Apparently he likes it. I confess to feeling both bewildered and rather crushed by this evidence of poor yet expensive taste in bling by one of my blood line and am at a loss as to how I should go about setting the lad to rights, or whether it may be a lost cause already. I discover, too, that he now has three tattoos. I don't have anything against the odd tattoo and have on occasion considered it myself (though the fear of pins and ink has always steered me from it before any actual tattooing has taken place), but three tattoos before the age of 18 is, in my hide-bound world, a little too much. And if you beg to differ, let me tell you that while I have forgotten what one of them is, I know that he sports a Liver Bird on his leg and "You'll Never Walk Alone" inscribed on his forearm. It is to weep; nothing discreet about this body artistry. I can appreciate a good tattoo, and don't even mind the big ones, such as the Maori patterns some people have on their arms, but adornment in tribal football colours?

Oh well. Not really my business, I suppose, though some might say that as his Godfather I might have suggested he do something else.

Other petty annoyances accumulate on the horizon, suggesting that 2008 will be a year of expenditure. There is, of course, the forthcoming evacuation of the Athenaeum Club, with attendant expenditure. Given the landlord's track record, I do not expect to see much if any of my deposit coming back to me (to be fair, that's probably my own damned fault for taking short cuts when I moved in, but I was expecting to be here more than three years at that time), whilst we will have to find the money a) to move, b) for the first month's rent in the new place and c) a new deposit of about the same magnitude.

I seem to have perfected the art of leaking money as efficiently as others make it.

Adding insult to injury, I am coming to the conclusion that I need a new computer, too. I am not sure that I can expand this one much more and I am now so low on space on my C drive that I can no longer defrag it. I do not know which bits of all the crap in the Windows directories I need to keep and what are redundant. What I do know is, that the machine is very slow and almost constantly accessing one of the hard drives for virtual memory. Perhaps additional memory will do the trick, but I may be past that point. Ironically, on various drives I have huge amounts of free space, but things will insist on installing themselves into the C drive.

Finances permitting, I am toying with the ultimate heresy of migrating to a Mac. But not just yet.

Despite all this, I am feeling quite chipper and am in a good mood. Though I may yet buy that lottery ticket.

Odds and sods

Why I have to live in a world where "long weekends" are too short, is beyond me; it one of the great mysteries of life.

Here I am, just getting to enjoy my time away from the office and I have to be up and out to go to work in seven hours or so. I have searched my family tree within the decent bounds on consanguinity and have to report that neither land nor money nor saleable-on-the-American-market-Earldoms are destined to come my way. This means that unless pure chance strikes, I am doomed to making a living as a 9-5 drone for the remainder of my allotted span. Maybe I should give pure blind chance a hand by buying a lottery ticket?

Still, it is a three-day week for me. I have booked Friday and the following Monday off for a trip up home to Sunny Shropshire. My nephew is 18 on Thursday and Mum is 80 on Monday. This is a combination of significant dates that requires the presence of the Son and Heir, especially a son and heir who has not ventured home since Christmas.

I have no idea yet, what to get Mum for her birthday; I am sure that something will suggest itself. My nephew, on the other hand, is displaying distressingly chav-like tastes and I am informed by my sister that she has bought him a three lions ring - presumably based upon the FA's England badge. My niece is buying him a Liverpool ring, God help us, and Mum has asked if I will pitch in toward the cost of a Liverpool FC chain for the lad. Apparently he likes it. I confess to feeling both bewildered and rather crushed by this evidence of poor yet expensive taste in bling by one of my blood line and am at a loss as to how I should go about setting the lad to rights, or whether it may be a lost cause already. I discover, too, that he now has three tattoos. I don't have anything against the odd tattoo and have on occasion considered it myself (though the fear of pins and ink has always steered me from it before any actual tattooing has taken place), but three tattoos before the age of 18 is, in my hide-bound world, a little too much. And if you beg to differ, let me tell you that while I have forgotten what one of them is, I know that he sports a Liver Bird on his leg and "You'll Never Walk Alone" inscribed on his forearm. It is to weep; nothing discreet about this body artistry. I can appreciate a good tattoo, and don't even mind the big ones, such as the Maori patterns some people have on their arms, but adornment in tribal football colours?

Oh well. Not really my business, I suppose, though some might say that as his Godfather I might have suggested he do something else.

Other petty annoyances accumulate on the horizon, suggesting that 2008 will be a year of expenditure. There is, of course, the forthcoming evacuation of the Athenaeum Club, with attendant expenditure. Given the landlord's track record, I do not expect to see much if any of my deposit coming back to me (to be fair, that's probably my own damned fault for taking short cuts when I moved in, but I was expecting to be here more than three years at that time), whilst we will have to find the money a) to move, b) for the first month's rent in the new place and c) a new deposit of about the same magnitude.

I seem to have perfected the art of leaking money as efficiently as others make it.

Adding insult to injury, I am coming to the conclusion that I need a new computer, too. I am not sure that I can expand this one much more and I am now so low on space on my C drive that I can no longer defrag it. I do not know which bits of all the crap in the Windows directories I need to keep and what are redundant. What I do know is, that the machine is very slow and almost constantly accessing one of the hard drives for virtual memory. Perhaps additional memory will do the trick, but I may be past that point. Ironically, on various drives I have huge amounts of free space, but things will insist on installing themselves into the C drive.

Finances permitting, I am toying with the ultimate heresy of migrating to a Mac. But not just yet.

Despite all this, I am feeling quite chipper and am in a good mood. Though I may yet buy that lottery ticket.

Must remember that it is Tuesday.

Today is Furtle’s first day in her new job and this morning the poor soul was nervous and broadcasting jitters with such power and on so many frequencies that I started feeling nervous too!

I accompanied her on the Tube as far as Embankment, where we needed to go in opposite directions and she was lat seen on the opposite platform looking for all the world like a rabbit caught in the headlights. I don’t think that sudden and proper onset of spring has helped, as it is warm and getting warmer, though we did remember the antihistamines this morning, so excessive sniffling should be out.

I am looking forward to hearing all about it when she gets home tonight. I am sure she will get on fine and as is generally true with these things, reality is far different from the anticipation: bad for birthdays and Christmas; good in interviews and jobs!

My boss was surprised to see me this morning thinking that I was off until Thursday. She is now equally surprised that I am off on Friday and next Monday. Good to know I’m not the only one to have issues with the electronic diary!

Must remember that it is Tuesday.

Today is Furtle’s first day in her new job and this morning the poor soul was nervous and broadcasting jitters with such power and on so many frequencies that I started feeling nervous too!

I accompanied her on the Tube as far as Embankment, where we needed to go in opposite directions and she was lat seen on the opposite platform looking for all the world like a rabbit caught in the headlights. I don’t think that sudden and proper onset of spring has helped, as it is warm and getting warmer, though we did remember the antihistamines this morning, so excessive sniffling should be out.

I am looking forward to hearing all about it when she gets home tonight. I am sure she will get on fine and as is generally true with these things, reality is far different from the anticipation: bad for birthdays and Christmas; good in interviews and jobs!

My boss was surprised to see me this morning thinking that I was off until Thursday. She is now equally surprised that I am off on Friday and next Monday. Good to know I’m not the only one to have issues with the electronic diary!

Less than ideal

For lunch instead of a sandwich followed by an apple and/or banana, I thought that I should ring in the changes.

I have the fruit already, so it was just a case of finding something to supplement it; I have learnt from bitter experience that simply eating fruit at lunchtime leaves me hungry part way through the afternoon. Well, I mooched around Marks and Spencer’s food hall and happened upon a tub of taramasalata and a tub of low fat humus. I then realised that they were there in a 3 for 2 deal, so I picked up an additional humus to take home. Next order of business was pitta bread, which was quickly acquired. Of course, this all seemed like a good idea at the time. Low fat, more vegetable and some fishy bits to provide proteins and things.

Except that now I feel rather bleh. I am full and have a half pot of humus remaining, which will have to follow the other one home: I don’t trust the fridge here in the office. I also have a half pack of pitta bread left. That will doubtless be too solid to eat tomorrow, or get forgotten until it is – or has sprouted those interesting blue spots that suggest it might not be good eating any more.

My coffee is looking at me accusingly. It knows that I shall drink it, but IO shall probably have to wait until it is virtually cold. I had forgotten that pitta has much in common with rice and just keeps on expanding in the stomach.

It will be some hours before I can face an apple or a banana.

Sandwich tomorrow, then. Bleurgh…

Less than ideal

For lunch instead of a sandwich followed by an apple and/or banana, I thought that I should ring in the changes.

I have the fruit already, so it was just a case of finding something to supplement it; I have learnt from bitter experience that simply eating fruit at lunchtime leaves me hungry part way through the afternoon. Well, I mooched around Marks and Spencer’s food hall and happened upon a tub of taramasalata and a tub of low fat humus. I then realised that they were there in a 3 for 2 deal, so I picked up an additional humus to take home. Next order of business was pitta bread, which was quickly acquired. Of course, this all seemed like a good idea at the time. Low fat, more vegetable and some fishy bits to provide proteins and things.

Except that now I feel rather bleh. I am full and have a half pot of humus remaining, which will have to follow the other one home: I don’t trust the fridge here in the office. I also have a half pack of pitta bread left. That will doubtless be too solid to eat tomorrow, or get forgotten until it is – or has sprouted those interesting blue spots that suggest it might not be good eating any more.

My coffee is looking at me accusingly. It knows that I shall drink it, but IO shall probably have to wait until it is virtually cold. I had forgotten that pitta has much in common with rice and just keeps on expanding in the stomach.

It will be some hours before I can face an apple or a banana.

Sandwich tomorrow, then. Bleurgh…