I don’t know about you, but I am feeling rather creaky at the moment. And if you were to ask me if I had done anything this weekend that deserved this my answer would have to be no. I have watched rugby, I have fixed my car, I have watched some more rugby.
A reasonably relaxed weekend. Interestenly, it has been the first weekend for a while where I have not had to get up very early and head off to a competition somewhere. I’m sure people will be glad to hear that I have done better this season than last season (by 170 points). Didn’t get my Master Bowman, but have set several pb’s, so not too shabby.
After not using* that dreaded waste-of-time known as Facebook for a couple of weeks I have built up a slight backlog of the requests from friends. I currently have:
4x friend requests
4x group invitations
1x pirate invite
1x compare request
1x jedi invite
1x my aquarium request
2x zombie request
1x zombie request (yes, another one)
1x booze mail request
1x vampire invite
1x werewolf invite
1x hot potato
1x pirate invite (another one)
2x likeness quiz request
1x tv show trivia invite
1x superpoke! friend request
1x my questions request
I’ve decided that ignoring most of them will be the best way forward. And if you think I’m being harsh to those first four, in all fairness, one person I’ve never heard of, I think one is the brother of someone who was in my year in secondary school, and the last two are people whom I must have met sometime during my years at university, but I have no recollection of them.
One of them might have been a tennor in choir, but no-one likes tennors.
* – by which I mean; ‘not much’
Last night I was staying at the YHA in Port Eynon. It’s an old life-boat station and to describe it being right on the beach would be an understatment. It is a truely lovely hostel, though I will mention one thing, if you’ve not been there before do not arrive after dark.
First you have to drive through the village of Port Eynon, all the way to the car park at the end of the road. Then you drive through the car park, then down a track. When you arrive at the gate you park up and walk across a field, down some steps and you’ve arrived.
Right, back to work, I have to finish tomorrow as I’m off to the east-end of London on Monday for a DLR trackside test to allow me to work on the line. Our company have only been working for the DLR for a few yers and they’ve only run a train down the line with guys on the line once. Oh, and they’ve only turned the live-track on once as well. So it’s fairly safe!!!
One of the reasons that I’ve always felt that I don’t know where I’m going (in a metaphysical sense, I ALWAYS know where I’m going in the real world!!) in life is the fact that there are no ties to any one place.
I am currently doing a job that is ok (I’ve just been given a payrise apparently) but it’s not something that I really want to do. It certainly doesn’t pay enough to get anywhere (nice)to live down in the Home Counties.
I am doing a degree in a subject in which I don’t want to follow-on with related work. Chemistry is a lot of fun to do, but the writting up stinks a lot more than some of the chemicals you get to play with. And trust me when I say that there are some chemicals that are really quite smelly. Afterall, I nearly have two degrees in the subject.
I am incredibly unfussed about most things. This is the biggest problem. If you were to ask me what I would like to do I would not know. If you asked me where I would like to live/work I do not know. For the very simple fact that they are not important. The important thing is that you are happy doing what you are doing, where-ever you are doing it.
What I do need is a tie. Something that means that I some sort of limit on my options, something that means I have actual options. If I knew that I wanted to live in a particular place, that is a starting point. If I knew that I wanted to do a particular job, that would be a starting point.
In an ideal world I would be in a place that has a summer, a proper summer with sun and blue sky and a winter, a proper one where there’s snow at Christmas and you can build a snowman and not use all the snow in the garden to make him. Or her. Or it. Or them…. you get the idea.
I was shooting at the last World Record shoot of the season this weekend in an attempt to get my third Master Bowman score (if you get three classifiction scores in one season you move to that classification). The wind yet again meant that I feel just a few points shy, next year they’re raising the score you need to get to a good thirty points above my personal best so far.
But that’s not what I’m I’m supposed to be going on about.
I have two squads, my home team and my uni team, separated by about one hundred and eighty miles. I usually represent my home team at comps, but I wear my uni colours as they’re better. I had a fun conversation with one of the guys I was shooting with on Sunday.
him – so what brought you down to your home team??
me – it’s where I live.
him – but you’re from Swansea aren’t you??
me – no, no, that’s only where I went to uni.
him – ah, I thought from your accent…….
My accent….??? But I’m from the Home Counties, surely I’ve not been in Swansea for so long that I’ve picked up an accent?!?!
There can be dangers to listening to music while working on the computer. One of them is when you are sitting there bobbing your head along to the music, singing the words not quite just-under-your-breath. One of the other dangers is when it the soundtrack to something not…… suitable for a library. Singing ‘The Internet is for Porn‘ is a gauranteed way to get strange looks. Especially while sitting at the computers.
Oh well, let’s see if The Arrogant Worms are more acceptable!!
Last night I was with a few friends, eating a very nice dinner of salmon and butternut-squash when I had a sudden Cold Feet moment. Not that long ago (no, really) having dinner with a bunch of mates would involve ordering from the local pizza/curry/chinese and settling down in the living room for a semi-rowdy evening.
Last night we were all sitting around the dinning room table, eating our salmon and talking about work and kids…… twas a scary moment. This was followed by watching the first two episodes of the final three-parter of Dr Who (Utopia, The Sound of Drums) but not the third (Last of the Time Lords) as it was a week night and 10pm was bed time…..
I wonder if I can have James Nesbitt playing me…….???
*** THIS IS A PUBLIC ANNOUNCEMENT ***
For those who are as yet unaware (how, I mean how….??) today is International Talk Like A Pirate Day.
***END OF MESSAGE ***
Yo ho ho……..
For those of you who don’t like to fly, for whatever reason, but still want to get over to visit Australia, there is a way. overland, by bus. No, seriously, a regular bus between London and Sydney.
Over twelve weeks, fifteen thousand miles, twenty countries and for less than four thousand pounds.
For a full itinerary go to their website at Ozbus and it does look like a lot of fun, and a good way to see large parts of the Middle East, Sub Continant, S.E. Asia and not to forget Australia itself!!!
By which I mean not Radio2 but Radio4…. and I’m not talking about Long Wave and Test Match Special, but regular FM….. Anyway, I’m digressing.
Last night I was listening to the aforementioned Radio4 because I had nothing else having finished off my Jasper Fforde book (The Well Of Lost Plots) and they had a Poetry Slam on. Not just any old Poetry Slam, but the 2007 Radio4 Poetry Slam Final!!
Now for those of you, like me, who have never heard of such a thing the idea is that a bunch of poets perform a two minute poem of theirs, they all get marks on perfomance and the best go through to the next round. As usual two of my favourite poets were knocked out in the first round and then my sole remaining favourite poet then finished second. Needless to say that the winner (and the guy who finished third) were rubbish but shouting at the radio didn’t do a lot.