The sun is shining without a cloud in the sky, except for the heavy fog that covers the beach and the sea. Beautiful and bizarre. I’m in the office, wishing I was outside, but today’s alright because I get to sit with people I know on Saturdays. Yesterday I put in a request to go permanent. Will have to fib a little maybe, I still don’t intend to stay any further than September but if I’m permanent I can get more money and change my shift to a slightly less ludicrous one.
The pope isn’t dead quite yet, am getting hourly updates. If they recover the brain they can make a robo-pope.

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Bank holiday weekend nearly over and masses of (creative) work done for a change. All to avoid going out into the sun, I suppose. Don’t get me wrong, big fan of the summer and all that, just entirely unprepared for it. Was expecting a bit of spring first.
Woke up vaguely down today when I realised I’d been in England for approx six months now, which is a long time. There was some programme on radio four about a “journalist and broadcaster” searching for a partner via speed dating, which added to a general mood of unease. Is that me in ten years? If six months can go so fast then how soon will that be? These thoughts wouldn’t be passing through if I hadn’t of late started to think about getting a girlfriend again, what with it being summer and all. It’s a nice thought, but with two major flaws. The first being where I’d find the time – I would have to give up sleeping, working, writing or TV and I’m already pressed as it is. The second, where to meet? I never go out and when I do, I fall asleep (due to… well, see all the entries below). I suppose I could give up TV. Seems like a lot of effort for (most likely) limited results.
Sorry, I’m a bit crap, aren’t I? Think my priority should be going to the doctor to see why I’m constantly shattered and always have a cold before I think about anything else.
Yawn. Back out into the sun, then.

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Day off yesterday so went to the Pavillion with the Slovaks to have a look around. Very nice inside, decorated to a degree that heads past ludicrous and stops somewhere in the region of a building designed by a 14-year-old Games Workshop artist with a China fixation and an overactive imagination. Fucking cool, though, obviously.
Then we went to the beach for a while. It being the winter of late I’d forgotten that I live beside the seaside so it was a pleasant surprise to see a good couple of thousand people packing the beach, though there is still a week left of March if I’m not mistaken. It can’t last, but I’m looking forward to the summer a great deal now. We’ll have to reserve ourselves a little patch of stones.
After I was planning to go to Amelia’s birthday celebrations down at the Concorde 2 but due to bastard bastard fucking cunting cunts PLC I was forced to go to bed at 11pm with 2 nytol, lie there rolling from side to side for a few hours, sleep for a few hours, wake at 6.30, go to work, feel like utter shit and now struggle on for the remainder of the day and pass out at 11pm due to sleep deficit, another zombie Saturday, despite it being a “bank holiday weekend”.

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Two days of work and now off doing nothing again until Tuesday, due to some of those pesky “bank holidays” I would imagine. Except Saturday, which isn’t one, when I have to work the usual 7.30am – 5.30pm shift. Trying to negotiate to not do that either, though, as Amelia’s birthday is Friday.
Last night I arrived home to find that we were having a party with just the four of us (Amalia, Natalia, Ramon and meself, that would be) invited. Hope it wasn’t inspired by that fucking abysmal Shania Twain song but it seems unlikely. We had beers, music and party snacks. And all dressed up. That was about it really.
Anyone with digital TV should watch BBC3 tonight at 11.10 as they’re screening the winner of the sitcom contest I entered and lost. The winner is a schoolfriend of my friend Charlie and one of the main characters is based on her & Angus Deaton is in it.

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As of last Thurday my house went down with some sort of illness which didn’t go away, until today that is. I had a few days off work, ripped a lot of CDs, ate soup. Outside spring decided to begin, just to spite me it seems. Last summer was spent in bed sick too.
Still no internet access, I am yet again in a cafe. Back at work too, feeling good like you do when you’re better and it isn’t winter anymore.

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Most of a week in summary

Had an average kind of day at work last Friday. The start of the week I’d had a lot of sleep, but getting toward the end I’ve built up a bit of a deficit. It was red nose day so I was allowed to wear civilian clothes for a change and buy foul stale buns from a man in a dress. Thanks to ‘The Office’ largely, there weren’t any ludicrous attempts to be funny on anybody’s part.
At 1 I went to the agency for the free temps’ lunch. The usual collection of people were there, chatting with each-other. I had a bagel, picked up my payslip and left. The afternoon was much the same. I did have one call from an uppity millionaire who refused to accept our charges and threatened to close his account. I called his bluff and closed it. Twat.
At home, as per usual for a Friday night, everyone else was having a pre-club party in the living room, preventing me from relaxing with a couple of beers, The Simpsons and Nathan Barley. This time there were two strange dogs there too. Don’t like dogs. Sorry, know it isn’t cool or anything, used to have a phobia, but now just have a general uneasiness.
Had a bath and took a couple of sleeping pills in anticipation of everyone getting back. I hate working Saturday mornings.
Saturday was as bad as usual. The sleeping pills meant I had a general drowsiness instead of feeling shattered, which is a little more manageable. After work I went on an almost snap decision to go to Southampton for a party at Kat’s house. As usual the train took over three hours. Outside I felt a chill in the air, people shouting and punching things, back in the old place. Before the party I met up with people in a new place called “Wine Bar” which was a bit too funky house but it was good to see Kat, Lu and so on. Then we went off to Kat’s place to start off the party, which was alright. Bumped into all manner of people from my long forgotten university course & had a chat with them. Hoovered some gak (sorry). Passed out at 3 or so. I’ve a vague suspicion that I’m past it as far as these kind of parties are concerned. Well, we all have to be at some stage, don’t we?
Woke up on Sunday to find the party continuing. There was a Frenchman, a murderer (for “queen and country” apparently) and a stoned guy in the living room. And Kat & Lou and Kaz & some more people. There was conversation going on of this sort;
“This tobacco feels really surreal….”
“Surreal?”
“Yeah, feel it.”
“Well, if by surreal you mean dry…?”
“It’s just putting your hand in there it’s not what you expect…”
“What, that it’s dry?”
So I went home on the train again. This time it stopped entirely and we had to take a replacement bus.
Monday and Tuesday I felt like shit at work. Too much beer & stuff, nowhere near enough sleep and suspect I’m coming down with some sort of illness. Two days off now, though, and tomorrow we get internet in the house, so my website can finally go up.

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Following my new resolution to get drunk more I went out to the pub with the housemates yesterday, which was nice for a change. We got lumbered with some weirdo who looked like he was about to either kick the shit out of me or try to kiss me, so we had to make it quick. Still, I’ve found a reasonable local now, called the London Unity.
Nothing else of interest to report so I’ve followed everyone else’s example and made a quiz which you can take by clicking here and then there’s the scoreboard here and all that.

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Another really boring weekend. The sun is out and I’m inside. Something has to change, I must start going to the pub or something.
At work my team of 15 is now down to three. One of those three is on holiday, one is leaving this week and the other one is me. The rest quit or were fired. Since we are so few we still haven’t been given our own desks or reasonable working hours.

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I caught some fraudster guy the other day. He didn’t know how to pronounce his own name. Which was “Mr Jones.” To celebrate I’ve got a big bottle of port and plan to get drunk in a sophisticated manner tonight. Wearing a tie.

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Had a nice long weekend away up in the old country (Worcestershire) as it was my Mum’s 50th birthday and she was having a bit of a party.
Got the megabus up on Saturday. It was a pound to London and a pound to Birmingham. How they make a profit is still a mystery to me. Then on Saturday night met up with all manner of extended relatives at my a theatre putting on my stepdad’s latest play. The play was good, the relatives funny beyond belief. I used to be concerned a little about looking good in front of them, but no longer really care. Viewed now they are a lot less impressive and a lot more shy & retiring than I remember. Though I suppose I was quite a bit younger last time we all got together.
Got mildly drunk and had a good babble, but didn’t make an arse of myself.
Sunday was the party, then. Got dressed up in smart clothes and sat around in the hotel where it was being held being served. Liverpool were playing Chelsea, so we had to wait for a while for everyone to arrive. The party was good then – I was the assigned photographer, so diligently annoyed everyone by sneaking around taking unposed photos. Then danced to Franz Ferdinand and The Libertines (surprisingly good DJ) and went home relatively early.
Got the megabus back down on Monday and then slept for a bit and went to work, which was the same old fucking thing except one of my friends there was leaving. The only real entertainment came when the water machine next to me caught on fire and we had to evacuate the building. Good to have a break for a bit, but after ten minutes outside in the rain I just wanted to get back in where it was warm. Inside it smelled of burning plastic all afternoon.
Today is my day off. Have been sleeping.

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