As did Phil and Graham.
I was not happy on Wednesday having been woken up at 4:30am by the howling of a demented Cyril just under my bedroom window. I dashed down the stairs to open the kitchen door thinking that he was hurt and wounded only to find him quite frisky. Maybe it was just a surge of existential doubt. Whatever, I was pissed. Oh, and by the way, for your information, at 4:30am these days it is still dark.
The first two days of the week had been extraordinarily hot - some 33/34° in the
centre of town. I bit the bullet and wore shorts to work and d'you know horses were not
frightened and people did not reach for paper bags to hide inside. I, of course, was
not alone in this sartorial statement. Many of my young colleagues were also similarly
attired. For example, the delectable Dougal gave me an
instant stiffie by getting his legs out for the lads. <sigh>
As did Phil and Graham.
There's been a little synchronicity about this week. For example, I've been thinking about Dale and his visit and then, lo and behold, there was an e-mail. And then I was thinking about Cambridge Chris and his visit and then, goodness gracious, there was another e-mail.
The neighbours arrived back from their various holidays - so has a yapping dog in the back garden again. However, a For Sale notice has appeared outside of their house. Michael tells me that it's all a bit uncertain and dependent on another house that they have seen in the New Forest area. But they've had a fair few visitors keen to buy the property at £65K without central heating. So, it would seem that I should have made a little money on my house if I were to sell now.
Work has passed well. Few important meetings safely negotiated, some important bits of business safely concluded. I feel as though I am getting the run around from the Institute of Professional Development, however. I am trying to get some professional accreditation for what I do. IPD membership may be a possible route. But, every time I try to talk with someone about it, they say "Oh, we'll send you our brochure, that will tell you everything you need to know". And, of course, it doesn't. But no-one seems willing to spend ten minutes talking to me face-to-face to answer my particular questions.
All of this has come out of my being appraised at work. I've gone into it with a positive frame of mind knowing that I want to start putting in place those skills which will take me through the next 20 years of my working life. This is in stark contrast to my colleague, with whom I share an office, who has no idea of what he wants. He would prefer to be left to potter about in an amiably dilettante sort of way, picking up the odd trifle in an enthusiastic way but discarding it when boredom sets in. He views every suggestion made by management as to possible routes he may follow in his professional development with the gravest suspicion believing in hidden agendas rather that the reality that they are desperately trying to find something for him to do which fits in with the corporate needs. Basically, he doesn't want any responsibility. Some of us view this as a bit rich. After all, he is someone who is just over 50 and who is earning over £30K per annum. Grow up might be an appropriate message.
The weekend began in earnest with short drinking session on Friday evening with Andy, Graham, Tony, Brian and Stuart, colleagues from work. A couple of pints of Youngs at the work's local and then Tony mentioned something called Dogboulter - a strong beer sold at Firkin pubs. He and Stuart both averred that, as well as being frighteningly strong (over 6% - whatever that means), it also tasted disgusting.
Well, this was too much of a challenge, so we all trooped off to our nearest Firkin pub and all had a pint of Dogboulter. It must be said that Tony and Stuart were right - it is dreadful stuff - like astringent cough medicine. I confess I didn't get more than two thirds of the way down the glass. Others persevered. Andrew even finished my glass off. Mind you he had trouble climbing a flight of stairs later. You know those Nature programmes on TV where they tranquilise a large animal with a dart and suddenly the drug takes effect and you can see the mighty beast suddenly lose vitality and stagger... Well, that's sort of how Andrew looked.
Me - it's now Saturday morning as I'm sitting here knitting all these various notes and jottings together into some semblance of a coherent narrative, and I simply feel as though my hypothalamus has been fried. I'm three cups of Earl Grey to the better and feeling only slightly more human.
Thursday night, I got a series of e-mails and phone calls from Ross about coming down to London earlier than originally planned as one of the flat agencies has got some properties for him to look at next Monday. So, it'll be good to be with him again. It came right down the to wire but Chris is also going to be visiting this weekend. We'll probably go and see Lost in Space since the reviews for The Avengers have been so dreadful.
I've been making a few postings to the uk.glb NewsGroup recently. One concerned a thread with the Subject: Threesomes. Unfortunately, the poster made the following spelling error in his actual message...
What do you think about a treesome?
To which I was moved to reply...
Do you mean a relationship with a willowy youth?
Don't know why I was suddenly reminded about that.
A few quick endnotes... The bathroom scales have been resolutely
announcing for the past three mornings that I've reached a stunning 10 stone 10 pounds
(that's about 68kg for those of you who understand these things). It may not sound much
but I can't remember a time when I've regularly weighed so much. And, in fact, I weigh
almost a stone (that's a little over 6kg) more than I did in February when
I became ill. The only way I can account for it is the
growth of my muscles which I have previously and
proudly reported.
And the move of the study into the front upstairs room is being triumphantly vindicated at the moment where, after a wet night that brought a damp cat in the morning (Vet's delight), it is now gloriously filled with streaming sunshine. Bliss. Must have a shower and start to face the day.
