February 1, 2006

• Blinking blearily

  So, I was at work until about 7.30 pm last night: I got blown out by Eff at the last minute (she got thrown an enormous brief and was told to be in Norwich, fully prepared, by 9 o’clock this morning.  I told her about the Dormouse Bookshop in Elm Hill, to try and make the whole isidious hideousness less hideous).  It was worth staying late.   I’m currently just about on top of things.  Of course, this will disintegrate as soon as I end up skipping lunch for the second day running, which will also totally scupper Morris practice tonight, since I won’t have eaten enough to get all the way through without suddenly suffering from a lack of blood sugar and/or blood pressure and feeling dizzy and faint.

  
  

  {begin mostly incoherent Girl Guide bit} On the plus side, I’ve relocated my lost QG candidate (or rather, arranged to resubmit her registration forms to the higher ups for the third time) and she’ll get her Award.  Yippee!  I’m also chasing the candidate whom I know of in name only.  I only want to say ‘hello’ and buy her a cup of coffee, and find out where she’s at, the same as I’ve done for the others….  Oh, and get proper contact details from her.  Assuming she still wants to work on the award {End inane Girl Guide bit}

  
  

  Meanwhile, I’ve finished the back of Audrey, knittingwise (yes, I know, I need to take a photo), and cast on for these, and ripped right back to the start after 30 rows, since I’d second-guessed myself wrongly, and was nowhere near gauge on 4.5mm needles.  Far too small, even allowing for my teeny tiny wrists.  Will try on 5mm needles, as specified in the pattern, which should work  Since one only casts on 20 stitches to start with, I feel that the glove itself works as good a gauge swatch as anything else.  Made a change from the endless ribbing of both Audrey and the kilt socks.

  
  

  And, I discovered what the huha going on in the street outside Camden Tube on Saturday night was (far more policemen than normal, plus a bus).  I mostly missed it.  By the time Jo got there, en route to see her Andy after his show, the road had been temporarily sealed off.  Let’s not let my Mum know about this particular brouhaha, eh?  Just like we didn’t let her know how close I lived to the Camden Ripper.  Or about the time the time I errupted out of the flat one morning to discover the street sealed off, and that I had to make a major detour to get to work since someone had shot at a policeman the night before (can’t find a link, sorry), and the buses were fubared as a result.   It is not relevant.  Mind you, I did wonder about all the flowers that suddenly appeared tied to the railings outside Superdrug.  And, concluded in my innocence, that someone had been knocked over by a bus or something ghastly of that ilk.

  
  

  The squaddie has asked if I’d like to go for lunch with him.  I think I need to find some ‘other arrangement’ pronto.

  
  

  My head still hurts from where I collided with the wine rack on Monday morning.  It’s Wednesday today, but it feels like it could be Thursday.

  
  

  Jeepers.  The Irish Wolfhound has just addressed me as ‘mon petit biscuit’ in an email.   I have no idea how to respond, so I’m maintaining a dignified silence.

  
  

  xxx

  
  

  
  

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  The biscuit fantasist is getting married in South Africa in about three week’s time.  This means that I cannot go to the theatre in Sheffield for ‘The Romans in Britain’ with Liz – I cannot get the time off, because my assistant’s got an invitation to the wedding, and has, just today and after I’d booked my time off, requested the holiday.  One has to bow down to a wedding.  Even if one is highly unamused by the prospect.  Getting oneself back from Sheffield post-performance involves a night bus, which is icky, and I don’t fancy Sheffield bus station at 1 o’clock in the morning.  I’m too scared.  Hotels are, in the current efficiency and budgetary drive, just a tad too expensive, and, I’m unsure about asking the member of my Morris Team who lives in Sheffield if she’d like to come along with me, and if I could overnight with her.  I don’t quite know her well enough, you see. 

  
  

  Oh well.  If this is this year’s “No, you may not have holiday then” out the way already, I guess I’m doing reasonably well.

  
  

  xxx

  • 6:14 am
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