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.
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