If Boris cashed my cheque for £60 congestion charge, does that mean he won't be after the other £120 on the final bill when it finally reached me?
Paul had an interview today which seems to have gone well, he should know tomorrow if he has got through to the second interview. He still doesn't like the work but this one is based in town, pays more than the other one, doesn't involve daily tours of the UK till all hours, having twice as big a team, promises training courses, bonus payments from the start, and generally sounds a lot less sharky than the other lot.
Talking of the other lot, sending him a final payslip for twice as much as the enclosed final cheque, with a handwritten note about deductions looks remarkably like proof of running two sets of books to me.
Car-buying approaches, and so does getting an MOT on the red devil. Service and de-dunting it might get added to the menu.
London tomorrow, no excuses for any evening extravagances: shame. I'd forgotten there was a free evening test seminar in London this evening, otherwise I'd have been in da office today but it was too late by the time I remembered.
Blaming the weather for feeling tired and out of sorts, but I've managed to finish reading another book tonight and think a long leisurely soak in the bath might be a damn fine idea.
Remembered my niece's birthday on Sunday but forgot to call her. "Happy Birthday, Samara!", little brother's birthday this Sunday - *ties knot in brow
Wednesday 27 May 2009
Escapism
Just finished watching “One Day Removals”, the film Kath brought down in January for us all to watch, reminded me to watch when she came back in April, and tonight I finally watched it. These things take time! Sights and sounds of home with a very ludicrous but unsettling film: described as "Laurel and Hardy meets Tarantino" with decent Aberdeen-accented Doric throughout. Also "One Day Removals uses the F word more than 320 times, the most ever in a Scottish-made film ~ beats the current Scottish record holder, Sweet Sixteen by Ken Loach, which uses the F word and variations 313 times". You have been warned!
Might have been easier to watch if the DVD didn’t keep sticking and if I'd been able to find the remote control for it.
Still, it was a major success since I had to crawl about on the floor and womanhandle the TV stand thing about while I worked out which bit had to connect to which other bit to get a DVD to play at all. Back in the distant past my beloved son and favourite nephew managed to set the video/DVD player that I almost understood to convert to dyslexic Swahili, and so this was a new venture to fire up one of the other THREE players. Not entirely sure how they managed to breed so successfully but I mostly can’t get any of them to work and end up reading a book or going online instead.
Escapism. Can't beat it.
ah! and the BBQ on Sunday was very relaxed and relaxing, declared the truth and reality that I would be late in good time; got some sunbathing and bookreading in; managed to find the blue fox earrings to go with the pastel baby-blue look and thoroughly enjoyed driving down there in brilliant sunshine with the top down (Car, not me) Trampoline is fun, I really ought to do stupid but fun things more often instead of just doing the plain stupid ones. I managed to knock over P's stunningly generous libation of about quarter of pint of whisky all over Lin's frock as an opening gambit, having to suffer Rod's repeated exclamations about 'who drank a whole bottle of scotch' that night, and the next morning despite Paula pointing out each time that it was only half-full at best in the first place. Long lazy afternoon and evening in good company without getting too mashed; followed by a decision point to have another drink and stay over as arranged or drive home. Sarah smiling sweetly and handing me a tequila shot decided that one so I polished off most of a bottle of wine after that while we woke the neighbours with megadecibel talk and laughter in the garden. I did suggest they buy a clock instead of having the neighbours bawl out what time it was, sadly not in time for us to wind them up (clock? geddit?).
Proper work all day from 9am, no personal PC till after about 7pm and I still felt guilty about skiving. I must be ill. Short people for a brief while, major grannie-points for the Ben 10 baseball cap which did fit the 4yr-old (9-13 years old it said on the label - eh?), and the Peppa pig jammies sized 18-24mths which are HUGE for the 23mths pink princess but she loves them.
People. Friends. Life.
Might have been easier to watch if the DVD didn’t keep sticking and if I'd been able to find the remote control for it.
Still, it was a major success since I had to crawl about on the floor and womanhandle the TV stand thing about while I worked out which bit had to connect to which other bit to get a DVD to play at all. Back in the distant past my beloved son and favourite nephew managed to set the video/DVD player that I almost understood to convert to dyslexic Swahili, and so this was a new venture to fire up one of the other THREE players. Not entirely sure how they managed to breed so successfully but I mostly can’t get any of them to work and end up reading a book or going online instead.
Escapism. Can't beat it.
ah! and the BBQ on Sunday was very relaxed and relaxing, declared the truth and reality that I would be late in good time; got some sunbathing and bookreading in; managed to find the blue fox earrings to go with the pastel baby-blue look and thoroughly enjoyed driving down there in brilliant sunshine with the top down (Car, not me) Trampoline is fun, I really ought to do stupid but fun things more often instead of just doing the plain stupid ones. I managed to knock over P's stunningly generous libation of about quarter of pint of whisky all over Lin's frock as an opening gambit, having to suffer Rod's repeated exclamations about 'who drank a whole bottle of scotch' that night, and the next morning despite Paula pointing out each time that it was only half-full at best in the first place. Long lazy afternoon and evening in good company without getting too mashed; followed by a decision point to have another drink and stay over as arranged or drive home. Sarah smiling sweetly and handing me a tequila shot decided that one so I polished off most of a bottle of wine after that while we woke the neighbours with megadecibel talk and laughter in the garden. I did suggest they buy a clock instead of having the neighbours bawl out what time it was, sadly not in time for us to wind them up (clock? geddit?).
Proper work all day from 9am, no personal PC till after about 7pm and I still felt guilty about skiving. I must be ill. Short people for a brief while, major grannie-points for the Ben 10 baseball cap which did fit the 4yr-old (9-13 years old it said on the label - eh?), and the Peppa pig jammies sized 18-24mths which are HUGE for the 23mths pink princess but she loves them.
People. Friends. Life.
Sunday 17 May 2009
happy sigh
Not long back from London town having been taken to see Lynn Holland again last night. I had wavered a bit about wearing this year's Rammy frock but decided opportunities to dress OTT ought not to be missed, and I'm really glad I did wear it. Mark had decided he wasn't putting up with my being late any more, and was already at the pub when I got to his place so I ended up getting changed in the loo and leaving the luggage in the car.
When I checked the back of the dress in the mirror, I remembered why I'd only worn shoes with it before; it plunges so low at the back it was just as well I'd chosen screaming red lacy knickers and that they looked like part of the outfit. The concession to *cough* modesty was to be wearing the sexy little sequin bolero jacket but it isn't long enough to cover the corset-laced plunge to the derriére. The pub was full of football fans as usual but we don't get a reaction from them any more, they've got used to our sartorial games, including M le Debonair bon plus wearing white tie, top hat and cane to watch football and play poker back in February.
Bit of a chat and a drink, given a warning not to chat up any of the young priests this time; then we walked very sedately round to the Westminster Cathedral Hall. Sedate was mostly on account of the Charles Jourdan (what a name dropper!) 5 inch platform heels which don't mix well with uneven pavements but are necessary to avoid having the frock sweep the street as I go. We collected a few compliments and had a bit of a laugh on the way when some seriously impressed girls asked us where we were going. Mark, with aplomb, said "McDonald's". Walking back after the cabaret earned me a skinned knee but I was by then anaesthetised enough not to bother with feeling foolish.
We were expected, and expected to be massively overdressed, so were given a ringside table and Kevin (the promoter) got us to stand up while he declared he expected everyone else to come up to 'these' dress standards for the next one. Lynn always goes for audience involvement and picked on Mark as one of her targets while singing "I want a Man", askiing "are you experienced" of random chaps. Mark said he was 'getting there' and I nearly choked on my wine when she ponted the microphone at me and asked if it was true. However, he was upstaged by Father Michael (84!) pleading the fifth. We dallied too long about the volunteer chorus bit so Father Michael was in there as the third man, and I'm sure Mark cheated on the coin toss so I was the third woman. We are waiting with interest to see if the filming (oops! I'd forgotten they were filming!) makes it to her website. I might not have made any rude gestures if I'd remembered.
Before I forget, Paul had brought the shorts round just as I started getting ready and Alex had this to say when I told him I was going out:
Where are you going?
To a concert.
Is it far away?
Yes, it's in London.
Will you be back tonight?
No, but I'll be back tomorrow.
Where will you sleep? (this one in an alarmed and accusing tone)
At my friend Mark's, you remember Mark?
(doubtfully) ye-es
A few minutes later, Alex declared, very seriously I scribble scribble scribble (four year olds talk like that sometimes)
What?
I think scribble scribble shut.
After a few minutes we worked out he was telling me he thought the concert was going to be shut. His sister flirts massively, and he has already learned to dissemble charmingly, they'll be terrifying when they grow up.
Managed to catch up with Sid on Friday, the great book exchange expanded to my having to pop round on my way to Woking (TWO hours each way on the M25) to pick up baggins1, and leave baggins2. I found out later that this was all in aid of his scheming to present me with a scintillating red sequinned bottle cover, raspberry vodka encased. He knows me well. Also a retro Libra mug which describes me rather well under 'if born with stars ill placed'. To quote,
Returning in the evening to pig out on an Indian takeaway, I picked the dark and gritty film to watch first, Children of Men; a cross between Threads and any future apocalypse film. Amusing to see Michael Caine as an aged hippie, hooked on strawberry flavoured ganja, and Pam Ferris with an eyebrow ring and messy dreads. Then I insisted we watched La Cité des Enfants Perdu in the original French though I admit to reading the subtitles too. Great film, very weird, but I like odd films. At least Mon Mome winning the National let me recognise the french word for kids when they used it.
Past midnight again, I keep finding draft blogs I forgot to finish or, like this one, start and stop it so often the timestamp is all wrong. Me and time; mmmmmm. Loving looking at the thing I bought this afternoon on my way to a scrumptious pub lunch, maybe I should get Mark something else for his birthday and keep it for myself. Also saw a something to get Sid, but both birthdays are months away.
When I checked the back of the dress in the mirror, I remembered why I'd only worn shoes with it before; it plunges so low at the back it was just as well I'd chosen screaming red lacy knickers and that they looked like part of the outfit. The concession to *cough* modesty was to be wearing the sexy little sequin bolero jacket but it isn't long enough to cover the corset-laced plunge to the derriére. The pub was full of football fans as usual but we don't get a reaction from them any more, they've got used to our sartorial games, including M le Debonair bon plus wearing white tie, top hat and cane to watch football and play poker back in February.
Bit of a chat and a drink, given a warning not to chat up any of the young priests this time; then we walked very sedately round to the Westminster Cathedral Hall. Sedate was mostly on account of the Charles Jourdan (what a name dropper!) 5 inch platform heels which don't mix well with uneven pavements but are necessary to avoid having the frock sweep the street as I go. We collected a few compliments and had a bit of a laugh on the way when some seriously impressed girls asked us where we were going. Mark, with aplomb, said "McDonald's". Walking back after the cabaret earned me a skinned knee but I was by then anaesthetised enough not to bother with feeling foolish.
We were expected, and expected to be massively overdressed, so were given a ringside table and Kevin (the promoter) got us to stand up while he declared he expected everyone else to come up to 'these' dress standards for the next one. Lynn always goes for audience involvement and picked on Mark as one of her targets while singing "I want a Man", askiing "are you experienced" of random chaps. Mark said he was 'getting there' and I nearly choked on my wine when she ponted the microphone at me and asked if it was true. However, he was upstaged by Father Michael (84!) pleading the fifth. We dallied too long about the volunteer chorus bit so Father Michael was in there as the third man, and I'm sure Mark cheated on the coin toss so I was the third woman. We are waiting with interest to see if the filming (oops! I'd forgotten they were filming!) makes it to her website. I might not have made any rude gestures if I'd remembered.
Before I forget, Paul had brought the shorts round just as I started getting ready and Alex had this to say when I told him I was going out:
Where are you going?
To a concert.
Is it far away?
Yes, it's in London.
Will you be back tonight?
No, but I'll be back tomorrow.
Where will you sleep? (this one in an alarmed and accusing tone)
At my friend Mark's, you remember Mark?
(doubtfully) ye-es
A few minutes later, Alex declared, very seriously I scribble scribble scribble (four year olds talk like that sometimes)
What?
I think scribble scribble shut.
After a few minutes we worked out he was telling me he thought the concert was going to be shut. His sister flirts massively, and he has already learned to dissemble charmingly, they'll be terrifying when they grow up.
Managed to catch up with Sid on Friday, the great book exchange expanded to my having to pop round on my way to Woking (TWO hours each way on the M25) to pick up baggins1, and leave baggins2. I found out later that this was all in aid of his scheming to present me with a scintillating red sequinned bottle cover, raspberry vodka encased. He knows me well. Also a retro Libra mug which describes me rather well under 'if born with stars ill placed'. To quote,
"they shall oft be drunken & oft desire Lechery, and use fleshly lust oftentimes and all the vain pleasures of the world".Actually, 'stars well placed' says much the same, though I'm not too sure about "a very gay lover". However Librans are the best lovers ;)
Returning in the evening to pig out on an Indian takeaway, I picked the dark and gritty film to watch first, Children of Men; a cross between Threads and any future apocalypse film. Amusing to see Michael Caine as an aged hippie, hooked on strawberry flavoured ganja, and Pam Ferris with an eyebrow ring and messy dreads. Then I insisted we watched La Cité des Enfants Perdu in the original French though I admit to reading the subtitles too. Great film, very weird, but I like odd films. At least Mon Mome winning the National let me recognise the french word for kids when they used it.
Past midnight again, I keep finding draft blogs I forgot to finish or, like this one, start and stop it so often the timestamp is all wrong. Me and time; mmmmmm. Loving looking at the thing I bought this afternoon on my way to a scrumptious pub lunch, maybe I should get Mark something else for his birthday and keep it for myself. Also saw a something to get Sid, but both birthdays are months away.
Friday 15 May 2009
playing tag
It's all P's fault for sending me an invite to her BBQ on facebook! I went looking for some of the Givaudan crew and managed to find my archetypal Frenchman, Olivier, whose first words to me when I got back from hols to discover I was his new boss were a surly (imagine ze french accEnt) "I don' work for no woo-man'. He just sent me a message on FB "I remember you were the voodoo card player. And you gave me english SF books!"
Ahhh, nostalgia. From that unpromising start, by the time he left he would greet me each morning with "Salut, chef", and choose to reply in english (so I would understand) anything controversial our UK system designer said in French (so I wouldn't understand). Highly amusing since J didn't realise that my french listening skills were much better than the speaking skills. We also pulled the longest shift on the project one time, working till about 1am, by which time the hotel kitchens were closed, and both back in the office at 8:30 as usual the same morning.
Having found the link for La Reserve, where we mostly stayed, habitués enough to be leaving luggage there over the weekends if we didn't stay over, buying bicycles and tennis racquets, I went looking for the other places we stayed in Coppet, and Morges,. Corporate heaven indeed but the working day was 8-6 to make up for getting up at 4am on Mondays to be able to get the 8:30 flight from Heathrow.
Ahhh, nostalgia. From that unpromising start, by the time he left he would greet me each morning with "Salut, chef", and choose to reply in english (so I would understand) anything controversial our UK system designer said in French (so I wouldn't understand). Highly amusing since J didn't realise that my french listening skills were much better than the speaking skills. We also pulled the longest shift on the project one time, working till about 1am, by which time the hotel kitchens were closed, and both back in the office at 8:30 as usual the same morning.
Having found the link for La Reserve, where we mostly stayed, habitués enough to be leaving luggage there over the weekends if we didn't stay over, buying bicycles and tennis racquets, I went looking for the other places we stayed in Coppet, and Morges,. Corporate heaven indeed but the working day was 8-6 to make up for getting up at 4am on Mondays to be able to get the 8:30 flight from Heathrow.
Monday 11 May 2009
rested
Loving these cottages and amazed and delighted by the ease of rejoining this branch of my extended family. We worked together in Vernier in 97/98 and although I've missed most of the proper reunions, working abroad or stuck in the attic in my head, I kept up with Géraldine, James, Rupert, Sarah, Deb and Alistair with meals out in London and strange meetings at Waterloo Wetherspoons which was the most central point to wherever we were working at the time. Geraldine, still on maternity leave, and I are the only people here who still work for CG, and Nick was giving me a serious talking to about going contract : tempting; no hostages.
We already booked May Bank holiday for next year, this place is *that* good.
It's been great waking up to sunrise through the bedroom window, and sitting on 'the terrace' next to an immaculate lawn with landscaped shrubbery and flowerbeds. The place only opened last year the people who run it are really lovely. Their website doesn't do the place justice, and doesn't mention the default tea/coffee/sugar/milk that is provided, or the flowers and homebaked Victoria sponges and fairycakes waiting for you. That did mean that we're all caked out since it was Sylvia's birthday on Friday and Géraldine brought a carefully iced birthday cake big enough for fifteen people, and John/Sylvia have about a week's worth of haphazard holiday shopping for their next three days here as everyone has offloaded food they don't want to take home again.
I've been in Tyning, the cottage with the spiral staircase (photographs duly taken for my brother's information and comment) and it feels like the lap of luxury, all mod cons, Sky fancy screens in every bedroom as well as sitting room, DAB radio and seriously comfortable bed and settees.
Bath is lovely, I hooked up with Gabby and Richard yesterday afternoon after a long drive to enjoy the weather and scenery, and we had a leisurely and gossipy cream tea before a too-short visit to the fashion museum. I found a fox figurine to add to the collection, spent not too much in Laura Ashley, and nothing in East, but was fascinated by the saleslady of a certain age wearing sparkle gel not only on her face but in her hair: weird!
All packed now, about to get back in the red devil and wend homeward to the real world; work tomrrow but I'll think about that tomorrow, not today.
Ah, bliss, my gorgeous blonde just called me to demand to know if I'm coming home now "in a minute" - time to boogie
We already booked May Bank holiday for next year, this place is *that* good.
It's been great waking up to sunrise through the bedroom window, and sitting on 'the terrace' next to an immaculate lawn with landscaped shrubbery and flowerbeds. The place only opened last year the people who run it are really lovely. Their website doesn't do the place justice, and doesn't mention the default tea/coffee/sugar/milk that is provided, or the flowers and homebaked Victoria sponges and fairycakes waiting for you. That did mean that we're all caked out since it was Sylvia's birthday on Friday and Géraldine brought a carefully iced birthday cake big enough for fifteen people, and John/Sylvia have about a week's worth of haphazard holiday shopping for their next three days here as everyone has offloaded food they don't want to take home again.
I've been in Tyning, the cottage with the spiral staircase (photographs duly taken for my brother's information and comment) and it feels like the lap of luxury, all mod cons, Sky fancy screens in every bedroom as well as sitting room, DAB radio and seriously comfortable bed and settees.
Bath is lovely, I hooked up with Gabby and Richard yesterday afternoon after a long drive to enjoy the weather and scenery, and we had a leisurely and gossipy cream tea before a too-short visit to the fashion museum. I found a fox figurine to add to the collection, spent not too much in Laura Ashley, and nothing in East, but was fascinated by the saleslady of a certain age wearing sparkle gel not only on her face but in her hair: weird!
All packed now, about to get back in the red devil and wend homeward to the real world; work tomrrow but I'll think about that tomorrow, not today.
Ah, bliss, my gorgeous blonde just called me to demand to know if I'm coming home now "in a minute" - time to boogie
Friday 8 May 2009
History
for those of you that knew him, I was told today that Dave Rose is dead. Bizarrely, Paul's Dad told Dee, told him, told me. Not sure how I feel to be honest. Not upset at any rate.
Bit scary though, he was younger than I am.
Bit scary though, he was younger than I am.
Monday 4 May 2009
*mirth*
Having gone to bed ridiculously early last night, I've been awake since 5am and just checked the weather forecast for my lunchtime freecycle mod meeting (cloudy). Occurred to me to check what it's like in Cyprus where Mark has sloped off for the week, telling me it would be 30 degrees and that he's likely to come back lobstered and lumpy. HAH! The BBC forecast says it's already raining and going to be cats and dogs-ing till the day he comes back. *wide-eyed innocence*
Missed the LAM yesterday due to breakfast not being over till after lunchtime, but have had a lovely lazy couple of days with me and Sarah watching Tony work damned hard on the garden interspersed with delayed full breakfasts and the hugest joint of gorgeous beef for dinner on Saturday. I'm sure I will, eventually, wrestle the new electric oven in to submission, but having had bacon crisped to disintegration as a first course by trying to do it in the oven, I went back to the old-fashioned multiple frying pans yesterday and probably upped our cholestrol levels by a significant amount. Lovely it was.
I splurged on buying some proper gardening tools, which did seem remarkably cheap considering, and which managed not to break or bend digging over the garden. It's all level now, the mammoth mutant dandelions have been evicted, the elder forest lopped and chopped back to unreasonably large stumps which have already started sprouting new bits, and it's possible to walk along the path at the side of the house for the first time in years. Well done, that man!
Work is as up-to-date as it's going to get (I'm ignoring the fact that I have only three days this week to draft and finalise the next hyuge document) and I'm really looking forward to a weekend here with the Givaudan crew next weekend
*HOT* news, if belated. Mark insulted the MD at the end of an interview last week, and they called him the next day to offer him the job. Not sure if there is a connection, but at least they've established a rapport. Unspeakably delighted for him.
The best news, of course, is that I have today off. P is winging or has wung her way back from Philly now and I'm hoping I didn't do anything silly like leaving her gas on; coming home to a gassed Gizmo might put a bit of a dent in our friendship... I nearly had to leave him locked out when he decided to play hard to get but I think he was just making a point.
This last week has been thoroughly social, popped in to see Lora as I was working in Southend on Tuesday, dinner with P on Wednesday, Sarah and Tony from Friday and meeting Barbara L and a couple of others for lunch today. Part of the work business is resource planning and I've pencilled myself in for 4 day weeks from July with a couple of complete weeks for hols; it will drive my managers insane but if I book them now, for after this project, no-one will argue and they'll be much less than impressed with my taking most Mondays off *more mirth!*
All change from tomorrow no doubt, but today I'm happy, not least because I've finally got 'Georgia On My mind' OFF my mind having gone to sleep, and woken up with it in mu head for the previous two days.
Missed the LAM yesterday due to breakfast not being over till after lunchtime, but have had a lovely lazy couple of days with me and Sarah watching Tony work damned hard on the garden interspersed with delayed full breakfasts and the hugest joint of gorgeous beef for dinner on Saturday. I'm sure I will, eventually, wrestle the new electric oven in to submission, but having had bacon crisped to disintegration as a first course by trying to do it in the oven, I went back to the old-fashioned multiple frying pans yesterday and probably upped our cholestrol levels by a significant amount. Lovely it was.
I splurged on buying some proper gardening tools, which did seem remarkably cheap considering, and which managed not to break or bend digging over the garden. It's all level now, the mammoth mutant dandelions have been evicted, the elder forest lopped and chopped back to unreasonably large stumps which have already started sprouting new bits, and it's possible to walk along the path at the side of the house for the first time in years. Well done, that man!
Work is as up-to-date as it's going to get (I'm ignoring the fact that I have only three days this week to draft and finalise the next hyuge document) and I'm really looking forward to a weekend here with the Givaudan crew next weekend
*HOT* news, if belated. Mark insulted the MD at the end of an interview last week, and they called him the next day to offer him the job. Not sure if there is a connection, but at least they've established a rapport. Unspeakably delighted for him.
The best news, of course, is that I have today off. P is winging or has wung her way back from Philly now and I'm hoping I didn't do anything silly like leaving her gas on; coming home to a gassed Gizmo might put a bit of a dent in our friendship... I nearly had to leave him locked out when he decided to play hard to get but I think he was just making a point.
This last week has been thoroughly social, popped in to see Lora as I was working in Southend on Tuesday, dinner with P on Wednesday, Sarah and Tony from Friday and meeting Barbara L and a couple of others for lunch today. Part of the work business is resource planning and I've pencilled myself in for 4 day weeks from July with a couple of complete weeks for hols; it will drive my managers insane but if I book them now, for after this project, no-one will argue and they'll be much less than impressed with my taking most Mondays off *more mirth!*
All change from tomorrow no doubt, but today I'm happy, not least because I've finally got 'Georgia On My mind' OFF my mind having gone to sleep, and woken up with it in mu head for the previous two days.
Friday 1 May 2009
rattled
Having ignored texts from the psychopathic puritan ex, imagining he was chasing 'his stuff' again; he caught me with an unknown number in work time just now.
Stomach still roiling; first question is "am I renting out my house" - no; next question, "who's living there" - me. Panic flood about what does he want, what does he think he knows, what does he plan to do, what can I do about it.
He wants to move into my house or rent it from me because he's just had his flat re-possessed. FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Proud of me for the instant, "Sorry" without any other explanation but still rattled. Fairly disgusted with the probably genuine but nevertheless guilt-throwing "I haven't seen anyone since you left me, I go to work, I come home, that's it".
Ouch. Let's hope he does get a place somewhere, anywhere, and fades into history again pretty sharpish.
Stomach still roiling; first question is "am I renting out my house" - no; next question, "who's living there" - me. Panic flood about what does he want, what does he think he knows, what does he plan to do, what can I do about it.
He wants to move into my house or rent it from me because he's just had his flat re-possessed. FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Proud of me for the instant, "Sorry" without any other explanation but still rattled. Fairly disgusted with the probably genuine but nevertheless guilt-throwing "I haven't seen anyone since you left me, I go to work, I come home, that's it".
Ouch. Let's hope he does get a place somewhere, anywhere, and fades into history again pretty sharpish.
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