Thursday, 17 May 2012

An odd day, Thursday. Sometimes.


Skagboys

I'm hitting the final few chapters. There's been multiple deaths and plenty of violence. Begbie's inside. Rents, Sick Boy and Keezbo are in rhab as an alternative to jail. There has been a puppy rescue and a talked-down suicide, but that's about all. Everyone's out of work in Thatcher's nightmare...

...why is this book so funny?


van Persie

We're told “It'll all be resolved before he goes away to the European Championships with Holland”. It isn't. Deafening silence. Another long summer looms.

I'm sure he'll wait and see who comes and goes, then commit, or not. Jesus, we have a track record of sandboxes for management heads.


Chilli-con-carne

Easy to get wrong. Fantastic version served up by MM tonight. With perfect potatoes, sugar snaps and rice, and with just the right amount of built-in kidney beans and mushrooms. Veggie mince too, so less of that mouth-coating fat you can get, and healthier. OK for BLISS and LtK, so we all ate the same thing. I was ready as I walked in just after seven. Which was just as well because I'd not eaten all day and was somewhere between dipping blood-sugar-level and starting to hallucinate.


Multi-storey story

I pulled into the multi-storey car park with about fifteen minutes to spare between meetings, thinking: “thank god I didn't pull over for those phone calls, I'll run down and get a sandwich”. Then I saw the structural engineer pulling into a bay diagonally opposite. Then the clients (who have yet, in eighteen months to arrive on time, yet alone early) pulled into the bay next to mine. Windows down “all here early then!”, they said “let's get started.”


Buses come in groups...

...as do those jobs where you sleepwalk for a number of months, and there's acres and acres of fitted-out office at the end of it, and, unfortunately, so do the jobs where achieving progress is like shovelling vinegar uphill, with a fork. In the residential field, there's a lot more vinegar-shovelling. The non-commercial psyche seems much more prone to sticking points and the molehill = mountain syndrome yet to be put up there with autism and the like.


Yuck

Their album cheers me up. As (somehow) does Irvine Welsh, and that's where we came in. (Google that, if you're too young to remember continuous performance cinemas).





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