Friday, September 07, 2001

I touched it today, and also inspected the insides. Four times. (Thinks: after engineers prodding the inards, something they do instinctively, I would expect that Typhoon gets a thorough going over before the next tv show.

Apparently, Matilda got mauled, and the robot ref, who happened to get in the way, was more or less pulverised.

This is all the goss from Robot Wars, so, gentle reader, make sure you watch it, please, some time in October on BBC.

The outside casing is very much scratched and there's a few chunks of metal levered off - the screws don't seem to be where they ought to be, but that might be because they were unscrewed to let people look at the insides.

And then I went to the National Library. It was like going into another world. I went in, time stopped, several hours later the rain had stopped, it was getting dark. Will go it again.

Thursday, September 06, 2001

The college kids are back. They're clogging up the buses, though I guess I should be grateful they're not commuting to college by elephant - that would cause all sorts of chaos [thinks: gleefully about college kids falling off from a great height].

They are young, earnest, and curiously unformed. They use the bus to earnestly look at their notes - give them three months and they'll be using the bus to finish their essays.

Perhaps I'm envious. I need to wait until next week to find out if I'm going back to college or not.

Intended to cook spaghetti carbonara tonight, but tomato sauce was proposed instead. It was quite good, I thought, quick to cook, not much to wash up afterwards. dressed in boxer shorts and, naturally, very thin, handing me my slippers, but ...) Actually, I don't have any slippers.

Damn, forgot to add fresh parsley from the plant on the windowsill.

Wednesday, September 05, 2001

So I got a promotion. Maybe I didn't say it loud enough. I GOT A PROMOTION!!!!!! I now have two guys under me and the sensitive and difficult task of melding us all into one team, which is going to be tricky.

I had a promotion party: warm mulled wine with orange juice (I like that, hideous though it sounds) and a huge Buffy celebration cake. I thought it only right and proper to stab the icing picture of Buffy in the heart and give it a good twist, then cut off one of her arms and her very short skirt, after which I decided that I'd had more than enough.

The day after was tolerable, but seemed to go on for ever (I'm going into work late, as I need to go to school first, which means that I have to work late to keep up my hours). I live for the holidays - for the first time ever in my working mother career.

Monday, September 03, 2001

So the Christmas do is fixed: we are to go to an Abba tribute night and eat a very indifferent meal (duck pate, pan fried chicken, chocolate torte with fruit coulis, mince pies and coffee - almost makes you ask for a vegetarian option on the grounds that it can hardly be worse). The problem is that our boss now has three groups, none of whom know each other much, and somehow they have to be melded together. Is Abba strong enough for the task? Probably not, but we'll have fun finding out.

Sunday September 2, 2001: Spent the day in a state of mild shock. It wasn't so much seeing the Union Jack flying over the castle, when I'm more used to seeing saltires, but going off to hospital at 4am and making small talk during the endless waiting. I used to have a special hospital pack: books, soft toys, something to eat, pen and paper ... the eating bit is the most important of all, you can't move in case the doctor comes out with news, but you are sitting there in the dry, hospital environment, gasping like a fish who's jumped too far into the unknown.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?