Wednesday, October 05, 2005

Yet another "sorry for the long time no blog" (and typing on a keyboard which has @ and " reversed is very confusing).

Been a bit busy. Mostly getting cross with offices which work banking hours and then decide henceforth they'll close an hour early at their busiest time of year. Which means they now open for a grand total of 4 whole hours. Well done them.

And then the rest of the time has been spent ranting about said office (in much the same way as I spend time worrying about the work I have to do before I deadline, rather than just actually doing it).

Um, what else? Have I stuck more on Flickr? When was last time? I probably have, so here's the obligatory and ubiquitous Flickr plug - although that may be it for a fair while due to minor technical details like no longer having a scanner or a digital camera. So if someone'd like to buy me one... Actually I could just buy the one that someone was looking at from their eBay account, which they've left open in a window on this computer. It's only 2.2k*. So, so tempting.

And I thought I was lax leaving pens on shared workspaces (which I got back, rather surprisingly).

* The pound sign is a hash but the hash is a pipe but the pipe's a pipe, so I've no idea how to do currency. The dollar sign still works, so if you come across GB$ then you know what that means.

Oh, and I've been having fun having a variety of different colds. I get a different symptom every day, and last night I even managed to have a nosebleed as well. Have you tried coping with a nose which is dripping two different liquids? Really wanting to blow my nose when I can't because I'll dislodge the clot is rather frustrating.

Whereas typing the influence is quite fun. As demonstrated by the following blatant copy and paste (and when well I learn that blatant doesn't have two n's?). brain's to leaden to cope... (and shop assistants [that] give people funny looks when they walk into a supermarket and buy not quite enough paracetamol (and
ibuprofen) to top themselves [I'm sure I intended to finish the sentence]. Although to be honest the whole patronising absurdity of rationing and individually wrapping tablets probably says enough about the world that any potential suicidee would count it as an example of the cruel insensitivity of the world and thus be spurred on by the multiple popping frustration to win a final victory over the world by actually killing themselves with their illegally acquired and misapplied medicines. Maybe that's just me. Anyway, two paragraphs in to an email to someone I haven't written to
in two months and already I'm on suicide. Fun guy, huh?).

Oh, and did you know Sainsbury's, other than selling two types of paracets - one at 26 pence, the other at 47 pence, where the only difference is the size of the box (I think big and expensive is the newer style) - have also started selling their own Super Plus Fantastico Cold Relief. Containing two painkillers and caffeine. Yep, a thing that dehydrates people is an ideal way to cure the sinus induced headache.

And another thing, with the whole shift in home, does anyone use any shops which aren't supermarkets?
Need bread? Walk to Sainsbury's
Need fruit? Walk to Sainsbury's
Need medicine? Walk past Sainsbury's to another Sainsbury's a bit further away because it's bigger.

I'm staying with my brother and I've yet to confront him over the fact he bought apples in his lunch hour from M&S, despite the fact he would have walked through the only market I know of to get there.

But then he also has a cleaner who does his washing up as well. His rationale is that she costs less per hour than he can charge for his time. I thoroughly disapprove, but then I won't complain if the pile of washing disappears, having done it ever since I arrived in the flat.

I'm worried I'm turning into my brother's housekeeper. I cook, I wash up, I clean the bits the cleaner doesn't bother with. Ok, so I cook because I get hungry and because I'm concerned that he doesn't eat enough or well enough (there's healthy eating and there's a stirfry consisting of carrot, cabbage and noodles). I wash up because I'm borrowing a room and technically not living there so I feel guilty, and also because we keep running out of plates. I clean because I spill stuff (or drip blood), clean that up and then realise there's a line between the cleaned and the base level colour.

While I'm at it: numbering systems in London streets. A la the Strand. Emerge from Charing Cross (hurrah, I didn't get it mixed up with Cannon Street for once). See number 437. Walk east. See building number 42something. Carry on walking east. Consider getting a bus. Prefer walking to waiting at a bus stop. Carry on walking. Get overtaken by a bus. Pass my grandfather's preferred parking space (for some reason he always managed to get the same space outside St Clements. You can't even drive there now). Two hundred and something. Bank opposite is 218. And suddenly I'm in Fleet Street. Er...

And after much wandering I realised the number starts at Trafalgar square on the southern side, runs to Fleet Street, then back up the northern side, oh, and some of the buildings display numbers from a previous numbering system. Eventually I find 92, who don't do the offers the other branches I've used do. My brother later informs me that lots of places do that, and that it gives the numbers in the A-Z anyway.

Just seen food going past for some dept do, so better go.


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