Ahhhhh , went to see it on Friday night, really, really good! I hadn't realised when I first saw it that it is a spoof, of the Reduced Shakespeare Theatre variety, with a cast of four, and minimal props. There were some hugely funny bits in it and if you'd never read the book or seen the film, you'd still get the story. I thought the fat man was the chap from Chewin the Fat, but now I've gone checking, seems it wasn't. However, I found several youtube clips to indulge my penchant for scottish accents.
Top weekend all in all *happy*
I managed to leave work mid-afternoon, to a rousing cheer from my team who didn't beleive I'd actually do it: played slo-o-o-o-o-w traffic to the M40, ( at one point I was averaging 3 miles an hour, which is errmmmmm walking pace). Anyway, got home, shower/wash/pack then discover I misread the train timetable and there isn't a train at 6. Faff about a bit since I have some time before the next one, and fall foul of a brigade of cubscouts obscuring the path to the ticket machine. "Make a hole!!!!" cried the fond parents and leaders, "a big one" said some small creature about waist height on me - sooooooo tempted to clip him one! Then the sodding machine wasn't working. There I was, in full fancy black frock, balancing a bag full of clothes for saturday, shoes for saturday, bottle of 40% proof birthday present, tottering round to the front of the station to get the ticket office. I missed the train by 40 seconds.
Regroup. Luckily I haven't called Mark, a cunning ploy of mine not to tell anyone I'm on my way until I'm in the vehicle and it's moving. So: ticket in hand, I go outside to waste the next 20 minutes setting fire to something and call him. All light, bright and cheerful, I ask him to meet me at the theatre : at 8. He asks me what time it starts and I lie, telling him I don't know. (It starts at 8)
Peace settles, I get on the next train at 6.26 pm and apply slap while the train jaunts onward to Marylebone. My ex calls me. Deep joy. Not. I decide to get it over with and talk to him: he wants the stereo stuff that's been in my garage for the last 3 years, and in the storage he put it in and had to pay arrears to get it out of for about 3 years before that. I counter-offer that he should close the bloody joint account because I can't. He says he can't either because the bank have 'no way to verify my signature' on the forms I'd sent by registered post about a year ago. Ummmm, so how would they deal with written instructions? Anyway, I refuse to give in to anything to spoil my mood.
The play was magnificent: I'd recommend it to anyone.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I've got home, I've got outside wine, I've caught up with my personal emails, I've seen my son but not the short people, I'm in possession of a Harlequins rugby ball signed by all the team, I had a drink with Andy Gomarsal after the game yesterday (mrrrowwwww) in corporate hospitality : the only way to travel, and I was yelling like a banshee but ended up evens on the personal bets during the game. I trashed my feet, I trashed my thighs (don't ask) and spent this afternoon hanging out in God's Waiting Room in the glorious sunshine with Ummm censored :
Fabulous weekend, again. I coould learn to live with this work hard, party hard modus operandi
Sunday, 28 September 2008
Wednesday, 24 September 2008
56 steps
Never mind 39 Steps, which I might go see this weekend : 56 steps to the 3rd floor of the Premier *cough* travel lodge hotel thing affair, where the lift is broken.
My knee hurts *gloom*. Arriving at 10.30 pm when the bar and restaurant, such as they are, are about to close and getting the ironed clothes hung up (thanks, Mum!) , with a bit of trying to figure out how the lights etc work; it was almost 11pm before I set off in search of food. Room service in a Premier hotel? Have another laugh!
So, on the way up, after the imminent panic of their not having a room for me: I called too late yesterday to cancel the room for last night: some hotels allow cancellation till 4pm on the day (Hyatt and Marriotts), some 24 hrs (Radisson), and this one is 1pm on the day: which I missed by about an hour yesterday. So sod's law says they probably gave my room away for the rest of the week. I think they did, actually, but had a spare room to cover for it.
However, enough of doomy gloomy stuff. I was cruel/sensible enough to accept the offer of assistance with my luggage to get it to the third floor since the lift was broken. *sigh* Some willowy wisp of a girl tried to pretend that she didn’t mind lumping my bloody heavy suitcase up 56 steps while I tried to pretend my knee didn’t hurt keeping up with her.
The bed is good, the room is very full of a couple of side by side single beds, I haven’t tried the telly yet, and as long as the shower performs its hot, wet miracle in the morning I will declare myself (almost) content.
So, the hunt for food! 11pm in the middle of Brum: my favourite eating places were all, just, closed. No room service in a Premier establishment. Ended up at the Thai edge which looked fairly busy but they’d closed the kitchen. They suggested the Villagio (Thai/Italian connections?? Quite amazed really). Anyway, I said I’d give it a go, and turned to leave. Wait, wait! they said, he’s calling them for you. Better than than, getting a bit spooked by someone catching up with me in an empty street, especially after last night’s weirdo following me from the station, I discovered it was the manager of the Thai Edge, escorting me to the Café Villagio to persuade the chap there that I really did deserve to have food and wine even though THEY’D closed too.
A rummage in their fridge allowed as they did have chicken, and I was offered a pasta dish with chicken and mushroom in cream sauce, which turned out to be rather wonderful. The eye-candy, incomprehensible waiter/chef/owner chap was rather lovely too. A bottle of Bardolino, my book, no hassle, and I smuggled the rest of the bottle back to the hotel with me.
56 steps back up to my room again. Corporate heaven does NOT include Premier Travel Lodge places, which have the effrontery to charge only a fiver less than class places like the Hyatt/Radisson/Crowne Plaza. Though I have a horse’s mouth story about a mouse in the room at the CP. *smothered laughter* the story was from our project director.
Also that a senior colleague I met in the London office yesterday was the man foolish enough to have had his laptop stolen from his car. NO! I do not work for them consultants with the prisoners details, nor for any MI5 type stuff.
Sid sent me a link to an article today about Cargo Cult Methodology: how Agile can go terribly, terribly wrong (www.cio.com/article/print/442264) Vastly amusing when I’m working in a project that went for “Agile Development” 6 weeks ago. It’s working! Honest, it’s working : but in the teeth of demands for traditional reporting of plans and progress for the greater project.
On the work front, I got an assignment review from my boss today which boldly says I will be working on this project till April next year, and gives me a 2 on a scale of check the contract 5 to unbelievable superstar 1. All good I’m sure: might even get a payrise out of it. Har de har har! I’m enjoying my job, as I used to, despite the lunatic hours etc, and my ma agrees I’m not as driven as I used to be. A small surprise in the review stuff “always good-humoured” – really????? They’re not looking inside my head to where baglady is a real career option and I almost always remember it really IS only a job.
Apparently the Hyatt is doing some deal with a free night for every 2 stays, MUST make good use of that! Also, suggestions for my at least a week ‘somewhere”! have had advice to try SA or Egypt: then again I might go visit Chit and Mark in Seoul if there is some promise of sun stuff.
Right : time to sleep I guess.
Say mother off on the train this morning, had a bliss late afternoon yesterday with the short people : Alex filling the toy watering can from the playpool and tipping it over himself, and over his baby sister so she didn’t feel left out. Both of them screaming with laughter.
Sometimes the world isn’t big enough to hold the love you feel.
My knee hurts *gloom*. Arriving at 10.30 pm when the bar and restaurant, such as they are, are about to close and getting the ironed clothes hung up (thanks, Mum!) , with a bit of trying to figure out how the lights etc work; it was almost 11pm before I set off in search of food. Room service in a Premier hotel? Have another laugh!
So, on the way up, after the imminent panic of their not having a room for me: I called too late yesterday to cancel the room for last night: some hotels allow cancellation till 4pm on the day (Hyatt and Marriotts), some 24 hrs (Radisson), and this one is 1pm on the day: which I missed by about an hour yesterday. So sod's law says they probably gave my room away for the rest of the week. I think they did, actually, but had a spare room to cover for it.
However, enough of doomy gloomy stuff. I was cruel/sensible enough to accept the offer of assistance with my luggage to get it to the third floor since the lift was broken. *sigh* Some willowy wisp of a girl tried to pretend that she didn’t mind lumping my bloody heavy suitcase up 56 steps while I tried to pretend my knee didn’t hurt keeping up with her.
The bed is good, the room is very full of a couple of side by side single beds, I haven’t tried the telly yet, and as long as the shower performs its hot, wet miracle in the morning I will declare myself (almost) content.
So, the hunt for food! 11pm in the middle of Brum: my favourite eating places were all, just, closed. No room service in a Premier establishment. Ended up at the Thai edge which looked fairly busy but they’d closed the kitchen. They suggested the Villagio (Thai/Italian connections?? Quite amazed really). Anyway, I said I’d give it a go, and turned to leave. Wait, wait! they said, he’s calling them for you. Better than than, getting a bit spooked by someone catching up with me in an empty street, especially after last night’s weirdo following me from the station, I discovered it was the manager of the Thai Edge, escorting me to the Café Villagio to persuade the chap there that I really did deserve to have food and wine even though THEY’D closed too.
A rummage in their fridge allowed as they did have chicken, and I was offered a pasta dish with chicken and mushroom in cream sauce, which turned out to be rather wonderful. The eye-candy, incomprehensible waiter/chef/owner chap was rather lovely too. A bottle of Bardolino, my book, no hassle, and I smuggled the rest of the bottle back to the hotel with me.
56 steps back up to my room again. Corporate heaven does NOT include Premier Travel Lodge places, which have the effrontery to charge only a fiver less than class places like the Hyatt/Radisson/Crowne Plaza. Though I have a horse’s mouth story about a mouse in the room at the CP. *smothered laughter* the story was from our project director.
Also that a senior colleague I met in the London office yesterday was the man foolish enough to have had his laptop stolen from his car. NO! I do not work for them consultants with the prisoners details, nor for any MI5 type stuff.
Sid sent me a link to an article today about Cargo Cult Methodology: how Agile can go terribly, terribly wrong (www.cio.com/article/print/442264) Vastly amusing when I’m working in a project that went for “Agile Development” 6 weeks ago. It’s working! Honest, it’s working : but in the teeth of demands for traditional reporting of plans and progress for the greater project.
On the work front, I got an assignment review from my boss today which boldly says I will be working on this project till April next year, and gives me a 2 on a scale of check the contract 5 to unbelievable superstar 1. All good I’m sure: might even get a payrise out of it. Har de har har! I’m enjoying my job, as I used to, despite the lunatic hours etc, and my ma agrees I’m not as driven as I used to be. A small surprise in the review stuff “always good-humoured” – really????? They’re not looking inside my head to where baglady is a real career option and I almost always remember it really IS only a job.
Apparently the Hyatt is doing some deal with a free night for every 2 stays, MUST make good use of that! Also, suggestions for my at least a week ‘somewhere”! have had advice to try SA or Egypt: then again I might go visit Chit and Mark in Seoul if there is some promise of sun stuff.
Right : time to sleep I guess.
Say mother off on the train this morning, had a bliss late afternoon yesterday with the short people : Alex filling the toy watering can from the playpool and tipping it over himself, and over his baby sister so she didn’t feel left out. Both of them screaming with laughter.
Sometimes the world isn’t big enough to hold the love you feel.
Monday, 15 September 2008
night owl
Missed writing up loads of interesting stories: it was a full-on week with some bizarre happenings, not all of which involved drinking. Plans are afoot, and there should be some more interesting times to come. One of the guys at work has promised to teach me to play poker, so if I end up swearing in Welsh, you'l know where it came from! We're on a promise to have a black tie casino night despite, or perhaps because, the local casinos are of the same seedy, desolate ilk as those I visited way back when.
Just don't ask about the amorous quarter-back : apparently there is no such position in rugby, but anyone who is so musclebound he looks triangular from the shoulders must be some kind of back. And yes, he does play rugby, and yes he does work with me, and yes I was flattered, and for the rest no! no! no! no! (Falling about laughing) Worse than that, he's all of 37, DEFINITELY NO!
I'm feeling pretty virtuous right now with an alarming number of ironed clothes hanging silently on the tripod hanger affair in the living room : testament to my domestic goddess role while watching Brassed Off. I'm sure there's a joke in there somewhere but I can't get the words to line up properly. Mostly I iron what I need for the week on a Monday morning before I eventually leave for work, mostly I buy clothes that don't need ironing! I must have some bizarre virus.
Yesterday was a traffic nightmare, leaving in reasonable time to get to Studio West, I got caught in a 20 minute parking experience at Beaconsfield to get to the M40, then there was another appalling crawl caused by a collision near ?Northolt? where the short lampposts are. Meant I arrived at my own event 15 minutes late and after a half dozen people who hadn't been playing with the M40. Really laid-back, relaxing afternoon, everyone was happy, Zippy brought flowers and very professional looking hand-made cards for Natasha-Louise and for ME! She's never met me before but thought I shouldn't be left out since I'd done the organising. Sarah fetched up to help on the door, leaving me entirely free to flit about and socialise. Gabby and Richard had come up from Bath so we managed a bit of a catch-up. they have made their plans to marry on April 25th next year - in London, so I need a new hat. Ummm, maybe I don't actually "need" a new hat, maybe I just need to choose which one to exercise.
Quality day today with mother after neglecting her a lot: we went for a spin in the red devil with the top down - gorgeous weather for it - found that the pub/restaurant I wanted to try doesn't do food at 4pm ; stops at 3 and starts again at 7 or something. Class place with a very interesting solid wood bar, and an enticing array of good malts and vodkas, but I don't remember ever going there before. So we sat out in the sunshine with a couple of alcoholic drinks and talked : a LOT!
Headed back toward home and decided to go to the Five Arrows at Waddesdon (I'd give a link but the site is quite boring) to see if they did food. They did, and we had a very late lunch on the terrace, looking out over the perfect lawn and shrubbery, pretending it was our house. Mental note to go there again for quiet drinks or meal: every other time I've been there has been some kind of event when it's been quite crowded. Food was a tad pricey but we were glad we'd passed on starters since neither of us could finish the portions of roast beef and all trimmings.
Just finishing off a nice glass of Johnny Walker Red; there are only about 2 glasses left from the 2-for-1 litres I bought coming back from the wedding in Portugal last September : time slips away, unnoticed.
Won a couple of new Lea Stein foxes on eBay, the prices are boringly predictable, anything less than £28 is a bonus.
Life is good>
Ah, nearly forgot: while I was vewy vewy dwunk, I wrote a letter to Mark, in pencil, on the hotel stationery, sealed it, addressed the envelope, even put a stamp on it! When I saw it the next morning, I couldn't remember anything at all about what I'd written. I did have a vague memory of what I decided NOT to write, but the rest is a complete blank.
Living dangerously is fun: I called him, he lost the toss on the heads or tails I should post it, but the whole mystery thing was too hard to resist. So I posted it : and he promised to call me to tell me what I'd written : and ~ now he won't tell me. PAH!
Back to Brum in the daylight morning, at least no-one expects to see me before midday
Just don't ask about the amorous quarter-back : apparently there is no such position in rugby, but anyone who is so musclebound he looks triangular from the shoulders must be some kind of back. And yes, he does play rugby, and yes he does work with me, and yes I was flattered, and for the rest no! no! no! no! (Falling about laughing) Worse than that, he's all of 37, DEFINITELY NO!
I'm feeling pretty virtuous right now with an alarming number of ironed clothes hanging silently on the tripod hanger affair in the living room : testament to my domestic goddess role while watching Brassed Off. I'm sure there's a joke in there somewhere but I can't get the words to line up properly. Mostly I iron what I need for the week on a Monday morning before I eventually leave for work, mostly I buy clothes that don't need ironing! I must have some bizarre virus.
Yesterday was a traffic nightmare, leaving in reasonable time to get to Studio West, I got caught in a 20 minute parking experience at Beaconsfield to get to the M40, then there was another appalling crawl caused by a collision near ?Northolt? where the short lampposts are. Meant I arrived at my own event 15 minutes late and after a half dozen people who hadn't been playing with the M40. Really laid-back, relaxing afternoon, everyone was happy, Zippy brought flowers and very professional looking hand-made cards for Natasha-Louise and for ME! She's never met me before but thought I shouldn't be left out since I'd done the organising. Sarah fetched up to help on the door, leaving me entirely free to flit about and socialise. Gabby and Richard had come up from Bath so we managed a bit of a catch-up. they have made their plans to marry on April 25th next year - in London, so I need a new hat. Ummm, maybe I don't actually "need" a new hat, maybe I just need to choose which one to exercise.
Quality day today with mother after neglecting her a lot: we went for a spin in the red devil with the top down - gorgeous weather for it - found that the pub/restaurant I wanted to try doesn't do food at 4pm ; stops at 3 and starts again at 7 or something. Class place with a very interesting solid wood bar, and an enticing array of good malts and vodkas, but I don't remember ever going there before. So we sat out in the sunshine with a couple of alcoholic drinks and talked : a LOT!
Headed back toward home and decided to go to the Five Arrows at Waddesdon (I'd give a link but the site is quite boring) to see if they did food. They did, and we had a very late lunch on the terrace, looking out over the perfect lawn and shrubbery, pretending it was our house. Mental note to go there again for quiet drinks or meal: every other time I've been there has been some kind of event when it's been quite crowded. Food was a tad pricey but we were glad we'd passed on starters since neither of us could finish the portions of roast beef and all trimmings.
Just finishing off a nice glass of Johnny Walker Red; there are only about 2 glasses left from the 2-for-1 litres I bought coming back from the wedding in Portugal last September : time slips away, unnoticed.
Won a couple of new Lea Stein foxes on eBay, the prices are boringly predictable, anything less than £28 is a bonus.
Life is good>
Ah, nearly forgot: while I was vewy vewy dwunk, I wrote a letter to Mark, in pencil, on the hotel stationery, sealed it, addressed the envelope, even put a stamp on it! When I saw it the next morning, I couldn't remember anything at all about what I'd written. I did have a vague memory of what I decided NOT to write, but the rest is a complete blank.
Living dangerously is fun: I called him, he lost the toss on the heads or tails I should post it, but the whole mystery thing was too hard to resist. So I posted it : and he promised to call me to tell me what I'd written : and ~ now he won't tell me. PAH!
Back to Brum in the daylight morning, at least no-one expects to see me before midday
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