Monday, September 29, 2008
At the football this weekend our best player was Herc from the Wire.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
When the train stopped the doors opened right in front of me and, as I stepped to the side to get out of the way, IntimidatingGermanWoman accused me of standing on her foot.
I'm pretty sure I didn't, but I apologised over-graciously anyway, just to be on the safe side, then pointed out that the reason I was moving back was to enable the people who were on the train but wanting to get off, some room to get off.
I incorporated a dramatic sweep of my arm into the explanation, as though I thought she might not have understood the concept of giving people a bit of space.
She tutted. I'm scared of her now.
Slow Show - The National
Night Train - Rickie Lee Jones
Ain't No Sunshine - Bill Withers
Summer Here Kids - Grandaddy
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
There was a man on the train dictating a letter... but then I got home and discovered Amazon had delivered...so all that other stuff is going to have to wait!
Sunshine EP - Fallen Leaves
Labels: real life
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Today was a good day.
Started with a glimpse of a hot air balloon hanging a clear blue sky and a couple of what I initially took to be work experience boys discussing how other departments are so much more cavalier with cash than their own: “…they spent one and a half million on refurbishing that office. They got interior designers; they got consultants to tell them how to make it healthy. All new desks, fancy chairs. Plants. Paintings. The lot … then they work from home half the time”
Continued with a ‘To-Do’ file full of cases plastered with post-it notes all baring the instruction:
Stuff I’d been putting off since the end of last week finally became unavoidable. Letters that ramble on for pages but never actually explain what the complaint is or what they want doing about it, email correspondents who think it’s acceptable to forward a string of twelve emails all of which have differing attachments and replies but none of which contain an entire thread or any hope of a concise summary. Or punctuation. I love a deadline though. Especially an arbitrary, self-imposed one.
Ended with a clear desk.
Well, actually, ended with a glass of wine.
Let's Go Out Tonight - The Blue Nile
Zoo - Astrid
If You See Natalie - Eels
I Got You - Split Enz
Sing Songs Along - Tilly & The Wall
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
"...I know it don't thrill you, I hope it don't kill you"
Things I learned from yesterday:
1) That it can't all be 'top down,'
2) That if you want to be sure of the cheesecake for pudding you haven't got time to mess about queuing for seconds of curry,
3) That IneffectualManager has all the ... no, maybe I'd better leave that one out for now.
Welcome To The Working Week - Elvis Costello
Cracking Up - Nick Lowe
There's A Guy Works Down The Chip Shop - Kirsty MacColl
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
"...I don't know how much more of this I can take"
I'm looking over my shoulder and wondering which walls have ears.
Maybe I'm being paranoid, but I think I'll give it a while before I decide what went on today.
Oh alright, except for one thing - why is that that some people never speak up when it matters?
Or ... perhaps they've worked out that it doesn't, and you're better off keeping quiet? More fool me then.
Watching The Detectives - Elvis Costello
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
The man opposite gives me a disdainful, down his nose, offended kind of look when I put him to the trouble of moving his legs so I can sit down. It's something like the expression that flits across ThesaurusBoy's face whenever it's suggested that he might need to consider the possibility of dating women his own age.
The man is in no position to affect superiority: he has a beret, is wearing his glasses on top of his head and is reading Virginia Wolf in an ostentatious 'look at what I'm reading' kind of way. Or maybe it's just that he can't see properly because his glasses are on top of his head.
I spend a while considering my disappointing breakfast and wondering how come it matters if the Weetabix is soggy before you put the milk on. Something to do with science probably. I weigh up the chances of us owning some of those airtight, plastic cereal containers from Lakeland before the year's out.
When I look again, the book is face down on the table, on top of the beret. His eyes are closed. I can see he made it to somewhere about page seven.
Rain - Patty Griffin
Sticks & Stones - The Divine Comedy
Only The Good Die Young - Billy Joel
You've Done It Again Virginia - The National