Saturday, August 14, 2004
Golly, I was a little bundle of happy happy joy joy yesterday, wasn't I?
It's just me, not liking change, but also realising I'd prefer a much bigger change.
I've just been to recce the new office (and see if my car still works). The office is helpfully inside another company's building, and there's a list of inhabitants in the foyer [Hello to whoever watches the security videos, and so will have several minutes of pure comedy genius as I try to peer through the glass doors]. The list does not include the people I'm supposed to be working for. This is not good. I wander round the rest of the estate (accompanied by whirring cameras) to see if they're in a different building. They're not (though the competition are just the other side of that fence).
Going back to the car, I realise I've left all the paperwork back in the house (in a neat bundle sitting somewhere obvious so I wouldn't forget it). Hmm, Oh well. Now to figure out how to get home. Option 1 is nasty roundabout followed by a dual carriageway that is two sides of a triangle. Option two is the nasty roundabout, followed by doing a traffic light controlled u-turn, then on to a meandery road through umpteen industrial estates, which ends in a savage attempt to join the one way system [you join on the left and need the far right lane. Thank god for congestion]. And then out of town via a road that is currently breeding bus-sized roundabouts [does anyone still attempt to stay in lane? Nope. Do some people get so pissed of that they drive over the lowered curb in the middle that's there to let lorries turn? Yes. Do people think "it used to be a nice road"? Yes]. Option three is the same roundabout, followed by dual carriageway, then a right turn on lights that take forever. And then driving along a long straight road with masses of parked cars, and then into the one way system.
The one way system in options 2 and 3 is currently subject to roadworks and massive delays (they've finally decided that after years of having two lanes marked and three lanes of traffic, that perhaps altering that bit of road so there's 3 proper lanes [each corresponding to a main road out of town] might be a good idea).
Back at home I check the paperwork. The building was the right one. The address even says "C/O...". Ok, so the building did have a sign outside saying "fully furnished offices. From £X per person" [where X is on a lump of board that's been stuck on top of the original price. I've no idea if it's bigger or smaller than the old price]. There's nothing quite like one's employers renting anonymous offices virtually by the hour to make you think it's all a bit fly-by-night.
One upside to all though - at least having to get there insanely early will mean the one-way system's unlikely to be solid.
In other news: Does anyone know why there was a stats spike on Monday? I can't see anything new or different, but it's a bit too big to be just fluke.
While playing round with stats and referrers, I pop back to RO'D's blog. In response to this post: I got a shock from turning off a gluegun at the mains when the plug had been sprayed with water, when I was 9-ish [who thought putting an electrical socket next to a sink was a good idea? Especially in a primary school classroom]. It hurt, my arm went all limp and spasmy (like when one brushed the electric fence round the back of the school, whilst feeding the horses in the field behind. I think the electric fence was supposed to stop us feeding them. It worked, as you can tell). I went to tell the teacher. He'd been having a bad day, and so when this slightly shaken, and therefore a bit timid, child came up to him muttering something, he announced "I don't want to know" and walked out of the room. That's all-singing, all-dancing deputy heads for you.
It hurt a bit and my arm felt strange, but otherwise I was fine [despite having about half the class asking me about it, and them splitting into two camps, of those who were trying to tend to me, and those who were looking a bit ill, having figured out how serious it might have been]. It was nearly the end of the day, and so when school finished I walked home.
When my mother got home (she taught at the same school, but I didn't like waiting for her), I told her. She rang the doctor, who seemed a bit stumped as to what to say [there may have been a "take a couple of paracets and go to bed" in there somewhere. Though being under 12 it probably should have been 1/2 an aspirin].
The next morning when I came in, I got yelled at by my teacher. Which was nice. Apparently I should have told him. He didn't seem to want to remember that I had tried and he walked out. I gathered later that a couple of friends from the same class had marched straight into the head's office as soon as we finished, and told him what happened, including his deputy buggering off (possibly they wouldn't have used that phrase, but the two involved can be pretty forthright).
The teacher involved lasted another year, before leaving to pursue "other interests". Meaning he was newish, pretty crap at his job, hyped up his CV too much, full of management strategy rubbish, wasn't very nice, was a bit dim, wasn't all he claimed to be, kept cocking things up, in some cases being frankly dire, and really wasn't right for the school [I think he was teetering from my shock onwards]. Oh and by the way, this is obviously confidential, being picked up from staff-room gossip (being a teacher's son has it's advantages).
So, yes, it's sort of happened (and there wasn't very much water, just a few scattered drops). Never had someone's eye out though.
Oh, and while I'm astatsing - hello to whoever it was from the Ukraine, and the person from Saudi Arabia.
Anyway, I'm off to A. Play with the scanner, and start internetising my pics of various travels. B. Watch DVDs I've bought but not had time to watch. C. Listened to new CDs which are equally unused. D. Arse about on the internet. E. Go and do something healthy in the sunshine. F. Read more Moby Dick (it's perked up a bit). G. Do washing and general tidying. H. Catch up on all the blog posts that are less than half written. I. Start catching up on emails, and then look up and notice it's dark. J. Watch the Olympics. K. Watch the Olympics, but get bored and start flipping round, ending up either watching some aged film, BBC News 24 (until I know the scripts off by heart), or watch TFM or The Hits in vain, hoping there'll be some decent music along soon [1]. L. Write lists endlessly.
[1] Who am I kidding? Somehow I semi-like that scandirock thing "Funeral of hearts". Yes, it's dire, yes, it's goth by numbers (just use the words: funeral, death, heart, love, flame, cruelty. Anything fleurs du mal really. Preferably sung by a deepish voice that can't quite hit the high notes), and yes, it's liked by a freind's little sister. The signs aren't good are they?. Well, at least I'm not a Busted [2] fan, unlike the friend of my older brother. But then he is an actuary.
[2] Who deserve to be Satan's charcoal, simply for doing the theme song to a crap[3], live action, film version of Thunderbirds. And then to make the song itself abysmal...
[3] That's "crap" as in: I haven't actually seen it, but it looks it, and by rights it ought to be, and so it is and will be forever more, regardless of its actual merit. Which is a good an argument as society has ever needed.
Anyhoo,
It's just me, not liking change, but also realising I'd prefer a much bigger change.
I've just been to recce the new office (and see if my car still works). The office is helpfully inside another company's building, and there's a list of inhabitants in the foyer [Hello to whoever watches the security videos, and so will have several minutes of pure comedy genius as I try to peer through the glass doors]. The list does not include the people I'm supposed to be working for. This is not good. I wander round the rest of the estate (accompanied by whirring cameras) to see if they're in a different building. They're not (though the competition are just the other side of that fence).
Going back to the car, I realise I've left all the paperwork back in the house (in a neat bundle sitting somewhere obvious so I wouldn't forget it). Hmm, Oh well. Now to figure out how to get home. Option 1 is nasty roundabout followed by a dual carriageway that is two sides of a triangle. Option two is the nasty roundabout, followed by doing a traffic light controlled u-turn, then on to a meandery road through umpteen industrial estates, which ends in a savage attempt to join the one way system [you join on the left and need the far right lane. Thank god for congestion]. And then out of town via a road that is currently breeding bus-sized roundabouts [does anyone still attempt to stay in lane? Nope. Do some people get so pissed of that they drive over the lowered curb in the middle that's there to let lorries turn? Yes. Do people think "it used to be a nice road"? Yes]. Option three is the same roundabout, followed by dual carriageway, then a right turn on lights that take forever. And then driving along a long straight road with masses of parked cars, and then into the one way system.
The one way system in options 2 and 3 is currently subject to roadworks and massive delays (they've finally decided that after years of having two lanes marked and three lanes of traffic, that perhaps altering that bit of road so there's 3 proper lanes [each corresponding to a main road out of town] might be a good idea).
Back at home I check the paperwork. The building was the right one. The address even says "C/O...". Ok, so the building did have a sign outside saying "fully furnished offices. From £X per person" [where X is on a lump of board that's been stuck on top of the original price. I've no idea if it's bigger or smaller than the old price]. There's nothing quite like one's employers renting anonymous offices virtually by the hour to make you think it's all a bit fly-by-night.
One upside to all though - at least having to get there insanely early will mean the one-way system's unlikely to be solid.
In other news: Does anyone know why there was a stats spike on Monday? I can't see anything new or different, but it's a bit too big to be just fluke.
While playing round with stats and referrers, I pop back to RO'D's blog. In response to this post: I got a shock from turning off a gluegun at the mains when the plug had been sprayed with water, when I was 9-ish [who thought putting an electrical socket next to a sink was a good idea? Especially in a primary school classroom]. It hurt, my arm went all limp and spasmy (like when one brushed the electric fence round the back of the school, whilst feeding the horses in the field behind. I think the electric fence was supposed to stop us feeding them. It worked, as you can tell). I went to tell the teacher. He'd been having a bad day, and so when this slightly shaken, and therefore a bit timid, child came up to him muttering something, he announced "I don't want to know" and walked out of the room. That's all-singing, all-dancing deputy heads for you.
It hurt a bit and my arm felt strange, but otherwise I was fine [despite having about half the class asking me about it, and them splitting into two camps, of those who were trying to tend to me, and those who were looking a bit ill, having figured out how serious it might have been]. It was nearly the end of the day, and so when school finished I walked home.
When my mother got home (she taught at the same school, but I didn't like waiting for her), I told her. She rang the doctor, who seemed a bit stumped as to what to say [there may have been a "take a couple of paracets and go to bed" in there somewhere. Though being under 12 it probably should have been 1/2 an aspirin].
The next morning when I came in, I got yelled at by my teacher. Which was nice. Apparently I should have told him. He didn't seem to want to remember that I had tried and he walked out. I gathered later that a couple of friends from the same class had marched straight into the head's office as soon as we finished, and told him what happened, including his deputy buggering off (possibly they wouldn't have used that phrase, but the two involved can be pretty forthright).
The teacher involved lasted another year, before leaving to pursue "other interests". Meaning he was newish, pretty crap at his job, hyped up his CV too much, full of management strategy rubbish, wasn't very nice, was a bit dim, wasn't all he claimed to be, kept cocking things up, in some cases being frankly dire, and really wasn't right for the school [I think he was teetering from my shock onwards]. Oh and by the way, this is obviously confidential, being picked up from staff-room gossip (being a teacher's son has it's advantages).
So, yes, it's sort of happened (and there wasn't very much water, just a few scattered drops). Never had someone's eye out though.
Oh, and while I'm astatsing - hello to whoever it was from the Ukraine, and the person from Saudi Arabia.
Anyway, I'm off to A. Play with the scanner, and start internetising my pics of various travels. B. Watch DVDs I've bought but not had time to watch. C. Listened to new CDs which are equally unused. D. Arse about on the internet. E. Go and do something healthy in the sunshine. F. Read more Moby Dick (it's perked up a bit). G. Do washing and general tidying. H. Catch up on all the blog posts that are less than half written. I. Start catching up on emails, and then look up and notice it's dark. J. Watch the Olympics. K. Watch the Olympics, but get bored and start flipping round, ending up either watching some aged film, BBC News 24 (until I know the scripts off by heart), or watch TFM or The Hits in vain, hoping there'll be some decent music along soon [1]. L. Write lists endlessly.
[1] Who am I kidding? Somehow I semi-like that scandirock thing "Funeral of hearts". Yes, it's dire, yes, it's goth by numbers (just use the words: funeral, death, heart, love, flame, cruelty. Anything fleurs du mal really. Preferably sung by a deepish voice that can't quite hit the high notes), and yes, it's liked by a freind's little sister. The signs aren't good are they?. Well, at least I'm not a Busted [2] fan, unlike the friend of my older brother. But then he is an actuary.
[2] Who deserve to be Satan's charcoal, simply for doing the theme song to a crap[3], live action, film version of Thunderbirds. And then to make the song itself abysmal...
[3] That's "crap" as in: I haven't actually seen it, but it looks it, and by rights it ought to be, and so it is and will be forever more, regardless of its actual merit. Which is a good an argument as society has ever needed.
Anyhoo,
