on the bench

It's strange how being at home 'on the bench' i.e not having a paid project to work on, feels entirely different to being at home on holiday as I was last week.

I had an entire hour before I got a call asking me to work on an internal project: to create a senior mgmt presentation on how 2 different project methodologies fit with 3 different test methodologies and how we can convince clients we do all of them spectacularly well using 'a few slides'.
In the best tradition, someone else 'owns' this so it won't be my name on it, but at least it's interesting.

Brighton was wonderful on Saturday, fish and chips in the open air, and a stroll along the front after getting knocked out of the regional final. I was 46th of 69 qualifiers, out just before Mark but not first out from our team. Result I guess but I think I could/should have played better. Drinking pints of lager across the afternoon anaethetised me for the livescreenS football in the pub but I was glad to be on the train back, even if the american lass in the carriage was unbelievably LOUD, overconfident and irritating

We drifted over to the pub around Sunday teatime, after Formula 1, and discovered the new Sunday poker league was starting. Dinner was exceptionally late as Mark decided to play properly and win while I played recklessly and was second out of the game. PAH! I realised a long while back that poker is NOT a team sport and ought not to have assigned any weight to playing like idiots and getting out early.

Reminded myself there to pay Boris his tenner as a fine for not leaping out of bed at 6:30am to beat the 7am congestion zone camera.

I've been making some minor moves about job-hunting: things like inflation running at over 3% while my salary is static, emails from on high whinging that people need to observe rules to book holiday (a month's warning for a week, and 2 months for two weeks) regardless of project impact, because it messes up their forecasting and people need to forecast their holidays for the whole of this year ssssssssssssssaake!

The killer was finding that picking the wrong expenses authoriser (from the supplied list) means they delete the claim so now I have sent off the receipts under one claim number, and need to make new claims, with new numbers, and get them validated again, and guess which of twenty names is the right one. The email I sent to ask who CAN authorise them hasn't been answered. It's almost always the little things that get to you, the big things are shrugged off.

The garden has doen well on attention while it's been sunny, I might even plant that grass seed soon but raking stuff about is just as therapeutic as digging and a lot less effort

I'm happy

Music for today, Clint Eastwood

Jeremy paid the bill so now it's official; we both go to Brighton on Saturday as players, and Mark has the pleasure of knowing he did qualify higher in the league than I did.

The holiday feeling is still in play, LLM last night was the pleasure it always is, and I did the green thing, based around wanting to wear a dress and choosing which one on the basis of shoes I can walk in that look great.

and it's far too early in the morning

tinternet

I have a theory that tinternet is rubbish this weekend as a result of half-term and half the world on the case with facebook and other idiocies.

I blamed the minxcat from hell for trashing my connection this morning, her brother having grassed her up for messing with my computer, and finding stuff like the desktop, endless stuff on my machine (must get a password set up on this new notebook) but even I can't blame a 2 year old for killing my wireless connection and pay a lot every month for a constant connection I don't use. I *could* call Richard Branson but I've not been in the mood for lilting welsh accents at £1 a minute to fix it.

About time I actually used some of the tenner or so a month for a mobile dongle affair and even *that* isn't working poroperly so - I blame the massed logins of chillun and their holidaying parents for overloading the oversold infrastructure.

I'm on ollidays too: having escaped the project from hell with great relief and a reasonably translatable 'success' to tuck in my hatband, or garterbelt as the case might be.