Friday, September 05, 2008
Another suitcase in another hall...
Moving tomorrow, won't be back in internet land until Monday, still got to pack things, can't talk now, see you later, bye.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Gah!
Stupid cheap shoelaces! Bought them last weekend, one's broken already! I'd take them back to the shop if I could remember where I bought them and if they'd cost more than a pound. That does it, I'm going back to my bad habit of not untying my laces, ever, and just treating my shoes like slippers.
Also, I'm sorry if this blog has been unspeakably trivial just lately, but all I've been doing is working and packing. Not that that hasn't been fun - work is still going really well, and I've even been persuaded to use my memory skills for good rather than evil and perform memory tricks to attract people to our department's stand at the Boots Healthcare Conference at the end of the month. So make sure to book your tickets (if you're a Boots healthcare manager and have access to a time machine, since the registration deadline was three days ago). Funnily enough, shortly after agreeing to this, I had an email from a non-work person who wants me to perform memory tricks to attract people to his stand at some kind of computer retail exhibition, a week after the Boots thing. Something about me must just suggest 'corporate memory man'. There might be a career in this, if not for the minor stumbling block that I don't want one.
Also, I'm sorry if this blog has been unspeakably trivial just lately, but all I've been doing is working and packing. Not that that hasn't been fun - work is still going really well, and I've even been persuaded to use my memory skills for good rather than evil and perform memory tricks to attract people to our department's stand at the Boots Healthcare Conference at the end of the month. So make sure to book your tickets (if you're a Boots healthcare manager and have access to a time machine, since the registration deadline was three days ago). Funnily enough, shortly after agreeing to this, I had an email from a non-work person who wants me to perform memory tricks to attract people to his stand at some kind of computer retail exhibition, a week after the Boots thing. Something about me must just suggest 'corporate memory man'. There might be a career in this, if not for the minor stumbling block that I don't want one.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Boxes upon boxes
In early 1998, I moved from a rented attic room into a tiny little room in a shared house, and my friend Karen helped me move my stuff. She observed "Ben, for someone who's had a short little life like yours, you haven't half accumulated a lot of shit." I miss Karen and her colourful expressions, actually. I must look her up some time.
Anyway, it's ten years later, and I would estimate that I've got about ten times as much junk piled up in cardboard boxes now. Moving house is a terrible inconvenience, especially if you find it impossible to throw anything away, ever. Half the stuff in these boxes is probably just going to be unpacked, put somewhere and never touched again until the next time I move. Maybe I should just dump it all outside the Oxfam shop and make a fresh start? But then what would happen if I find that I really need that half of an issue of Autosport magazine from 1997?
Anyway, it's ten years later, and I would estimate that I've got about ten times as much junk piled up in cardboard boxes now. Moving house is a terrible inconvenience, especially if you find it impossible to throw anything away, ever. Half the stuff in these boxes is probably just going to be unpacked, put somewhere and never touched again until the next time I move. Maybe I should just dump it all outside the Oxfam shop and make a fresh start? But then what would happen if I find that I really need that half of an issue of Autosport magazine from 1997?
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Warning!
I've got a new bike, did I mention that? Yes, I know it's no more than a couple of years since I last got a new bike, but it was falling to bits through lack of care and maintenance, and I felt like splashing out rather than keep fixing the thing. Anyway, it came with a little sticker on it that says "Warning: For safety reason. All bolts must be checked for tightness before every ride. Failure to do so could result in serious and/or/fatal injuries."
I ask you. I could nitpick the unusual punctuation and grammar, or wonder whether it really means to imply that you can have injuries that are fatal but not serious, but I'm more interested in the instruction that I have to test every bolt on the bike, every time I want to ride it anywhere. I mean, I'm all in favour of safety (except for wearing a silly-looking helmet, I'm still not going to do that), but that seems a little excessive. And does this mean that if the bike spontaneously falls apart, I can't sue whoever made it, because I didn't check all the bolts?
I suppose I could lie in court and claim that I had, but they're probably monitoring me with CCTV cameras, just in case. Or I could be honest and say that the sticker fell off, which it quite genuinely did on the way home tonight. I hadn't noticed it until then. I'll keep it and stick it onto something else, just to confuse everyone.
I ask you. I could nitpick the unusual punctuation and grammar, or wonder whether it really means to imply that you can have injuries that are fatal but not serious, but I'm more interested in the instruction that I have to test every bolt on the bike, every time I want to ride it anywhere. I mean, I'm all in favour of safety (except for wearing a silly-looking helmet, I'm still not going to do that), but that seems a little excessive. And does this mean that if the bike spontaneously falls apart, I can't sue whoever made it, because I didn't check all the bolts?
I suppose I could lie in court and claim that I had, but they're probably monitoring me with CCTV cameras, just in case. Or I could be honest and say that the sticker fell off, which it quite genuinely did on the way home tonight. I hadn't noticed it until then. I'll keep it and stick it onto something else, just to confuse everyone.
Monday, September 01, 2008
But wait, if I leave Derby...
I won't walk past that chip shop on my way home, the one with a sign saying "You are welcome to breastfeed here" on the door! I won't be able to quip "Well, thanks, but I think I'll stick with the haddock and chips..." and entertain whoever happens to be with me at the time!
And next door to it, I won't be able to giggle at the sandwich board outside the Discount Furniture Warehouse that says "BED'S FROM £79" on one side and "SOFA'S FROM £49" on the other. Some punctuation-conscious employee of the DFW sellotapes little bits of white paper over the unwanted apostrophes, but they keep blowing off or getting rained off and rendering the sign all ungrammatical again. Perhaps I'll buy them a bottle of tippex as a going-away present.
And a bit further down the road, in the somewhat more shabby furniture-and-miscellaneous-junk shop, I won't be able to admire the stuffed fox-with-rabbit-in-mouth tableau and wonder whether I admire the taxidermy skill and want it to decorate my living room or feel repulsed by the whole thing.
Nor will I walk past the most badly-planned traffic lights in the country, with a pedestrian crossing not synchronised with the traffic lights at the roundabout fifty yards away, so if someone presses the crossing button at the wrong time, no cars can get on to the roundabout ever, and the queue stretches back for miles.
Nor the corner of Hartington Street, next to where the Discount Furniture Warehouse people live and park their vans in an impossibly tight space, that serves as one of my memory locations and for some reason has a tree in my mental journey that isn't there in real life.
It's the little things I'll miss.
And next door to it, I won't be able to giggle at the sandwich board outside the Discount Furniture Warehouse that says "BED'S FROM £79" on one side and "SOFA'S FROM £49" on the other. Some punctuation-conscious employee of the DFW sellotapes little bits of white paper over the unwanted apostrophes, but they keep blowing off or getting rained off and rendering the sign all ungrammatical again. Perhaps I'll buy them a bottle of tippex as a going-away present.
And a bit further down the road, in the somewhat more shabby furniture-and-miscellaneous-junk shop, I won't be able to admire the stuffed fox-with-rabbit-in-mouth tableau and wonder whether I admire the taxidermy skill and want it to decorate my living room or feel repulsed by the whole thing.
Nor will I walk past the most badly-planned traffic lights in the country, with a pedestrian crossing not synchronised with the traffic lights at the roundabout fifty yards away, so if someone presses the crossing button at the wrong time, no cars can get on to the roundabout ever, and the queue stretches back for miles.
Nor the corner of Hartington Street, next to where the Discount Furniture Warehouse people live and park their vans in an impossibly tight space, that serves as one of my memory locations and for some reason has a tree in my mental journey that isn't there in real life.
It's the little things I'll miss.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Match of the Day
It's nice that the football season's started again, but it would be nicer if they'd show the highlights of Sunday's games a bit earlier in the evening. Don't they realise I'm working now and have to get up early on a Monday morning?
Yes, I can't think of anything to write about tonight. It's been dull and rainy all day, just for a change, and I haven't really done anything worth mentioning.
Yes, I can't think of anything to write about tonight. It's been dull and rainy all day, just for a change, and I haven't really done anything worth mentioning.
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