In case anyone is interested, I’ve put some new photos up on my Flickr page. There are a few pictures of my new flat (so that you may more easily imagine me going about my daily routine, which I know you want to do) and a whole lot of pictures of trees in Wales. I do tend to get carried away with the trees-and-hills postcard snapshots when I’m in Wales. Sorry about that.
Last night I ordered this album, and you should too. It is brilliant and hilarious and brilliantly hilarious; and also it is Canadian! Three facts about Canadians: 1) We make very fucking good beer. 2) We make very fucking good music. 3) We export neither. Inside our borders you get The Sadies and Big Rock Traditional Ale, but outside Canada you get Celine Dion and Labatts Blue (and for both those things I humbly, tearfully apologise). I think this is due to Canada’s ingrained aversion to showing off. And also our ingrained desire to get Celine Dion as far away from us as possible.
There is a free pop machine in my workplace. Free pop! All the Diet Coke I can drink! For free! Having worked in the voluntary and public sectors for most of my career (where they come down on you like the wrath of God if you don’t re-use every envelope at least three times), this seems unbelievably decadent. Every time I use the machine I’m afraid that someone is going to come along and berate me. “No free pop for you! You’re a temp!”
(A girl in the office today is wearing some very clanky, jangly jewellery. When she walks down the corridor it sounds like a flock of sheep is going by. I rather like the pastoral sound effect and I think she should make some chirping-bird noises to accompany her bracelets.)
The elevators in this building unnerve me slightly as well: they are very fast and made of glass and they open on both sides. It’s all just too disorienting. I don’t like the concept of glass elevators in general – I’m fine with the notion of being swiftly transported between floors, but I don’t want to actually witness the process. I just want to step into a box and magically emerge in another place. I have no need to see frightening loops of dangling cable. No need at all.
The best/worst part of this job, though, is the location. Best: bang in central London! Less than 20 minutes on the Tube, with no changes! Worst: to get to the office I have to walk through Oxford Circus, which is the single most annoying bit of London (even including Downing Street). For some reason, when tourists emerge from Oxford Circus Station, the majestic and awe-inspiring sight of a Benetton store directly across from an H&M freezes them dead in their tracks and all movement grinds to a halt. The entire area is crammed shoulder-to-shoulder with gawping morons going nowhere – a bit like a Grateful Dead concert, except without the music. (Small mercies.) I can emerge from the office in a fine mood (theoretically) and within five minutes I want to start shoving people into traffic.
Oh, um, also? Lotus Notes sucks. You heard me. I’d never used it before, and now I see why it’s not standard issue. Perhaps it is good for some things (databases? Project management? Baking muffins?), but for e-mailing and diary management (basically my entire job) it is useless. Give me Outlook any day. I never thought I would hear myself adamantly defend Microsoft. It makes me feel a bit funny inside.
And a random link! The Welsh are into strange things, like running around in their underpants smashing shop windows with a shovel (perhaps some sort of national sport?). This happened on my birthday, but I’m pretty sure there’s no correlation.