My first week back at work, post-holiday. It was, er... great. Since I'd left myself with a pretty clear desk, I came back to almost no work at all. And since my boss was on holiday he didn't give me any work. Similarly, his boss - who loves to cut out the middle man and dump on me directly is also on holiday until next Wednesday. So no high level dumpage, either.
Cool.
Kinda dull, though.
Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas comes out today. I've ordered it from Amazon, so it should be waiting for me at home.
Cool.
No caveats this time.
Friday, October 29, 2004
Monday, October 25, 2004
Time 2
The disks arrived this morning. That was amazingly quick considering they came by second class post. No, wait! What's this on the packing slip... 'Next Day Delivery'? It would seem that complaining does work after all. It is a shame, however that whenever you enter into a contract these days, you have to complain in order to receive a decent level of service.
Anyway - The disks don't work. A further phone call to the software support line reveals that the problem was, in fact the hard disk, which is knackered. The laptop has to go back to be repaired.
Hooray.
Anyway - The disks don't work. A further phone call to the software support line reveals that the problem was, in fact the hard disk, which is knackered. The laptop has to go back to be repaired.
Hooray.
Fanboy
What was mildly amusing last night was that when we went round to the Woolie's for dinner, Pedro, who'd already seen Alien Versus Predator told us, knowledgeably, that the Alien's gestation period was all wrong.
He he he he...
Even more amusing was the fact that Hangelegert Rinkerdink posted the following on the JDBB. I've highlighted the important bit:
He he he he...
Even more amusing was the fact that Hangelegert Rinkerdink posted the following on the JDBB. I've highlighted the important bit:
OK ... the fanboy replies because it was wank. Depending on how you took it. As a no brain action adventure with cool special effects then it does exactly what it says on the tin. Thumbs up.
As a part of the Alien and Predator franchises (which is the viewpoint I'm coming from) it was arse cake. Completely ignored most of the history from the films, and even contradicted itself in parts. The Alien gestation period, we know from the first 4 films, takes days ... not minutes as this film implies ... mind you, it goes from minutes to hours in this so who knows. This film portrayed the Aliens as fully confronting fighting beasts ... which (again, if the first 4 films had been seen) Anderson would have known they aren't ... they are sneaky ... they are hunters and, if they need to go in hell for leather it would be en masse. And the fight with the Queen was stupid ... and she was FAR too big and GREW depending on the location ... crap. The Predators ... now, I know they were supposed to be going through a right of passage but, come on ... bloody ridiculous. They also look less like fearsome Predators and more like stoned Jamacans stereotypes ... gahI want to see Paul Andersons original, 45 minute longer, uncut version in the hope that he redeems himself.In short ... great actioner ... should have been 2 unknown creatues. As part of the
franchises it's even more ridicullous that the pink alien at the end of Resurrection.
Bo
Friday, October 22, 2004
Chris is Coming
Had a call from my favourite little brother this afternoon. He's got the weekend off and wanted to know if we were doing anything? I said no (which was a lie... well, more of a senior absent-minded moment) and said no. So he's coming to visit. Tomorrow.
What he doesn't know is that on Saturday night he'll be rocking with us down at the Portcullis in Chipping Sodbury - The Torr's next gig. As a Coldplay fan (I like 'em because they're mellow) he's not gonna like the music, but since when was an older brother not allowed to torture his younger siblings? (By the way - for 'mellow', read boring.)
Then he's going to have to suffer the Woolies, Pete and Becky, cos we're going to the Woolies for a roast dinner on Sunday. Still - I'm sure he won't mind. They're a good laugh.
What he doesn't know is that on Saturday night he'll be rocking with us down at the Portcullis in Chipping Sodbury - The Torr's next gig. As a Coldplay fan (I like 'em because they're mellow) he's not gonna like the music, but since when was an older brother not allowed to torture his younger siblings? (By the way - for 'mellow', read boring.)
Then he's going to have to suffer the Woolies, Pete and Becky, cos we're going to the Woolies for a roast dinner on Sunday. Still - I'm sure he won't mind. They're a good laugh.
Time
Ok. I think it is worth chronicling my experiences with Time Computers' Customer Services department. For posterity, see.
My laptop died a couple of weeks ago. It refused to start up, choosing instead to show me a lovely message about the system file being damaged or missing. Insert, it suggested, the Reload disk to sort it out. This I did, figuring that if the worst came to the worst, I could just use the reload disks to reinstall Windows.
Predictably, the Worst did, in fact come to the aforementioned Worst. And the Worst that the Worst came to was worse than the Worst that I had presupposed. Worse than Worst, it was the Ultimate Worst. Well, maybe not Ultimate, but pretty Worse. Worstly so. The second of the three reload disks was knackered.
So I phoned the Software support line (at £1 per minute) and spoke to a nice man about my problem. It's no problem at all, said he. I will simply send you a new set of disks which will right the wrongs and make the world a better place in which to live. 3 to 4 working days.
Splendid.
2 weeks later, the disks had not arrived.
So I phoned Time Customer Services this afternoon, to make enquiries. After 40 minutes on hold, the little boy who answered seemed confused when I said that it hadn't arrived. 'But my system says we dispatched it on the 12th' he said. He seemed to be having difficulty with the concept that post does not always reach it's intended destination. Having spent several minutes crossing this hurdle, we eventually agreed that I did not have the disks.
Next hurdle: 'I'll re-order it, sir' he said. 'It'll be 4-5 working days.'
'Not good enough' I said. 'I've been without my laptop for 2 weeks now. Having paid about £300 for a Gold Service Plan I think it would be reasonable for me to expact some sort of next day delivery service.'
'I'm afraid I can't do that sir,' he said (sounding eerily like HAL9000) 'Our procedure is to order it up, my manager has to authorise it, then it gets authorised again and then it gets sent out by 2nd class mail.'
2nd Class??? Do they know that the Post Office loses about 14 million items of post a year - most of which is second class? And that the only real guarantee that they make with 2nd class is that it may get there. Eventually.
'Is there nothing you can do to speed this process up? Get it sent registered, first class, anything'
'No'
'Is there anything your manager can do?'
'No'
'Can I speak to your manager?'
'No. He's at lunch.'
At lunch? At 3pm on a friday afternoon? Down the pub getting lagered up, more like: 'Can you get him to phone me when he get back from... lunch?'
'No. He doesn't speak to customers.'
Doesn't speak to customers? What sort of call-centre manager are we dealing with here? Time to remind him that I paid £300 for this crappy service: 'I paid £300 for a Gold Service Plan and this is the best you can do?'
'Yes.'
'Tell me,' I said, 'why I had to wait 40 minutes for someone to answer the phone? Is it because Time's customer service is so appalingly bad that thousands of people have to phone up to complain? Or is it just that Time are too tight to employ enough people on their call centre? Either way, Time would seem to be settling for a policy of inferior customer service.'
'I don't know.'
'I didn't think you would.'
My laptop died a couple of weeks ago. It refused to start up, choosing instead to show me a lovely message about the system file being damaged or missing. Insert, it suggested, the Reload disk to sort it out. This I did, figuring that if the worst came to the worst, I could just use the reload disks to reinstall Windows.
Predictably, the Worst did, in fact come to the aforementioned Worst. And the Worst that the Worst came to was worse than the Worst that I had presupposed. Worse than Worst, it was the Ultimate Worst. Well, maybe not Ultimate, but pretty Worse. Worstly so. The second of the three reload disks was knackered.
So I phoned the Software support line (at £1 per minute) and spoke to a nice man about my problem. It's no problem at all, said he. I will simply send you a new set of disks which will right the wrongs and make the world a better place in which to live. 3 to 4 working days.
Splendid.
2 weeks later, the disks had not arrived.
So I phoned Time Customer Services this afternoon, to make enquiries. After 40 minutes on hold, the little boy who answered seemed confused when I said that it hadn't arrived. 'But my system says we dispatched it on the 12th' he said. He seemed to be having difficulty with the concept that post does not always reach it's intended destination. Having spent several minutes crossing this hurdle, we eventually agreed that I did not have the disks.
Next hurdle: 'I'll re-order it, sir' he said. 'It'll be 4-5 working days.'
'Not good enough' I said. 'I've been without my laptop for 2 weeks now. Having paid about £300 for a Gold Service Plan I think it would be reasonable for me to expact some sort of next day delivery service.'
'I'm afraid I can't do that sir,' he said (sounding eerily like HAL9000) 'Our procedure is to order it up, my manager has to authorise it, then it gets authorised again and then it gets sent out by 2nd class mail.'
2nd Class??? Do they know that the Post Office loses about 14 million items of post a year - most of which is second class? And that the only real guarantee that they make with 2nd class is that it may get there. Eventually.
'Is there nothing you can do to speed this process up? Get it sent registered, first class, anything'
'No'
'Is there anything your manager can do?'
'No'
'Can I speak to your manager?'
'No. He's at lunch.'
At lunch? At 3pm on a friday afternoon? Down the pub getting lagered up, more like: 'Can you get him to phone me when he get back from... lunch?'
'No. He doesn't speak to customers.'
Doesn't speak to customers? What sort of call-centre manager are we dealing with here? Time to remind him that I paid £300 for this crappy service: 'I paid £300 for a Gold Service Plan and this is the best you can do?'
'Yes.'
'Tell me,' I said, 'why I had to wait 40 minutes for someone to answer the phone? Is it because Time's customer service is so appalingly bad that thousands of people have to phone up to complain? Or is it just that Time are too tight to employ enough people on their call centre? Either way, Time would seem to be settling for a policy of inferior customer service.'
'I don't know.'
'I didn't think you would.'
AVP
Stead and I went to see Alien Versus Predator this morning - not without some trepidation. It's had some poor reviews. Lots of fanboys on the internet saying things like 'the Alien's gestation period was all wrong' and 'the Predators ain't as hard as they should be' and 'the plot was crappy'. Also there's a lot of stuff flying around about the studio insisting that the film was cut to be a 15 at the last minute and the director having to cull plot building scenes because the studion only wanted a 135 minute movie.
Don't worry about it. It was a great movie. No-one expects greats plots from a monster movie. All we got was lots and lots of Aliens fighting people (well, killing them, anyway), Predators fighting people (well, killing them, anyway) and Aliens fighting Predators. It had a wholly predictable, but very cool, ending. What's not to like? Go see it!
Don't worry about it. It was a great movie. No-one expects greats plots from a monster movie. All we got was lots and lots of Aliens fighting people (well, killing them, anyway), Predators fighting people (well, killing them, anyway) and Aliens fighting Predators. It had a wholly predictable, but very cool, ending. What's not to like? Go see it!
Oblivion
So, yesterday Me Stead and the Vickster went up to Alton Towers for the day, since the weather forecast (from, I should point out, several different sources) promised bright and dry conditions and the chosen date did not fall in school holidays time - no children! A recipie for joyous times.
After some poor choices, routewise and about 4 hours in the car, we made it. The weather was not exactly as advertised, but it was mild drizzle, so we decided to live with it - more to the point, Vic had begged and scrounged to get the day off and we'd just driven for four hours to get there - we were determined to have a fantastic time. Fantastic, I tell you!
Now, I should tell you at this point that neither Vic nor I had been to a major theme park before (Paultons Park notwithstanding) so this was a first for us. I, myself was somewhat nervous, being a bit of a girlie wuss. Still the first ride was easy. Actually it was the monorail from the car-park to the main entrance.
After negotiating the suicidally miserable lady at the ticket booth and her identical twin in the resataurant at which we grabbed our all-day-breakfast we made our way to our first proper ride. The runaway minecart.
WOOOHOOOO!!!! It was great. As was the Haunted Mansion with the guns - I scored twice as much as Stead and Vic - thrashed them in fact. Then we went on the boat swingie thing. Cool.
Then we tried the Airsaw.
Which was horrific. I will never go on that again. It was horrible, nasty and downright mean. It also wasn't working properly, so after several false starts which involved us dangling upside down at a great height, we finally suffered the true horror and, finally, got off. The worst was yet to come, however.
After trying several great rides - Air was fantastic but short, the log flume was girlie (but got Stead soaked!) the Pinball Wossname and the Black Hole were terrifying (in a good way), Stead suggested Oblivion.
Oblivion.
A sheer 300ft frop at around 70 miles per hour. It's over in about half a second. But... it's a sheer 300 foot drop. At 70 mile per hour. Not a chance. Fortunately, Vic seemed to have the same opinion so I made a deal with Stead. If he could persuade Vic to go on it, I would. And guess what. Vic decided to give it a go. So here's me, scared sh*tless of any height over about 3ft about to go on Oblivion. Which, I would remind you, is a sheer 300ft drop at around 70 miles per hour. That's down. Really fast.
I tried many excuses. After all, who in their right mind would want to be dropped 300ft at 70 miles per hour? Not me. I tried to convince my comrades that I was only 1.1 meters tall - 10cm under the minimum height restriction, but that didn't was. It said 'No Smoking', so I told them that I'd just started. There was a sign that said I couldn't go on if I had a heart condition. I explain that if I went on Oblivion, I would have a heart condition. Stead just told me to stop being a Lady.
Anyway. I went on it. I didn't die. And I'm never going to do it again. There's a very comical photo of me screaming like a little girl and emptying the contents of my bladder into my pants, which I'll scan and put on here when I get to a working scanner - probably Monday.
The final thing to mention about the day was the weather. Rather than being bright and dry, it was cloudy and very, very wet. Very very very wet. It rained. A lot. On my head. We were forced to buy waterproof ponchos. We looked stupid, but we were dry.
Just as were crossing the huge, huge car-park to get the the car, it started hailing. And when it finished hailing, it dumped a volume of water on us equivalent to that contained in the North Atlantic Ocean. Many roads were flooded on the way back, but Vic's skillful driving got us home safely. And, considering were were negotiating treacherous roads and moronic drivers who had decided they didn't need to adjust their driving for the terrible, terrible conditions, it only took about 2 hours.
In conclusion, then: we had a fantastic day. Apart from Oblivion. I have palpitations just typing the word. So I won't.
After some poor choices, routewise and about 4 hours in the car, we made it. The weather was not exactly as advertised, but it was mild drizzle, so we decided to live with it - more to the point, Vic had begged and scrounged to get the day off and we'd just driven for four hours to get there - we were determined to have a fantastic time. Fantastic, I tell you!
Now, I should tell you at this point that neither Vic nor I had been to a major theme park before (Paultons Park notwithstanding) so this was a first for us. I, myself was somewhat nervous, being a bit of a girlie wuss. Still the first ride was easy. Actually it was the monorail from the car-park to the main entrance.
After negotiating the suicidally miserable lady at the ticket booth and her identical twin in the resataurant at which we grabbed our all-day-breakfast we made our way to our first proper ride. The runaway minecart.
WOOOHOOOO!!!! It was great. As was the Haunted Mansion with the guns - I scored twice as much as Stead and Vic - thrashed them in fact. Then we went on the boat swingie thing. Cool.
Then we tried the Airsaw.
Which was horrific. I will never go on that again. It was horrible, nasty and downright mean. It also wasn't working properly, so after several false starts which involved us dangling upside down at a great height, we finally suffered the true horror and, finally, got off. The worst was yet to come, however.
After trying several great rides - Air was fantastic but short, the log flume was girlie (but got Stead soaked!) the Pinball Wossname and the Black Hole were terrifying (in a good way), Stead suggested Oblivion.
Oblivion.
A sheer 300ft frop at around 70 miles per hour. It's over in about half a second. But... it's a sheer 300 foot drop. At 70 mile per hour. Not a chance. Fortunately, Vic seemed to have the same opinion so I made a deal with Stead. If he could persuade Vic to go on it, I would. And guess what. Vic decided to give it a go. So here's me, scared sh*tless of any height over about 3ft about to go on Oblivion. Which, I would remind you, is a sheer 300ft drop at around 70 miles per hour. That's down. Really fast.
I tried many excuses. After all, who in their right mind would want to be dropped 300ft at 70 miles per hour? Not me. I tried to convince my comrades that I was only 1.1 meters tall - 10cm under the minimum height restriction, but that didn't was. It said 'No Smoking', so I told them that I'd just started. There was a sign that said I couldn't go on if I had a heart condition. I explain that if I went on Oblivion, I would have a heart condition. Stead just told me to stop being a Lady.
Anyway. I went on it. I didn't die. And I'm never going to do it again. There's a very comical photo of me screaming like a little girl and emptying the contents of my bladder into my pants, which I'll scan and put on here when I get to a working scanner - probably Monday.
The final thing to mention about the day was the weather. Rather than being bright and dry, it was cloudy and very, very wet. Very very very wet. It rained. A lot. On my head. We were forced to buy waterproof ponchos. We looked stupid, but we were dry.
Just as were crossing the huge, huge car-park to get the the car, it started hailing. And when it finished hailing, it dumped a volume of water on us equivalent to that contained in the North Atlantic Ocean. Many roads were flooded on the way back, but Vic's skillful driving got us home safely. And, considering were were negotiating treacherous roads and moronic drivers who had decided they didn't need to adjust their driving for the terrible, terrible conditions, it only took about 2 hours.
In conclusion, then: we had a fantastic day. Apart from Oblivion. I have palpitations just typing the word. So I won't.
Loser!
Just a quickie. Had a letter from HR today informing me that they woulf not be putting my application forward. So they got it then. I'll need to ask for feedback on that.
Also, interestingly, an e-mail from Pen indicating that she, too had been unsuccessful and that the rumours were that Diane B had the job. We have lots of issues with Diane B. Not in an ability to do the job sense, but the fact that she's rude and unhelpful. What is of interest though is the fact that in retrospect it's almost as if the job spec was written for her - it lists all of her current skills - doesn't make us feel better but explains a lot.
Also, interestingly, an e-mail from Pen indicating that she, too had been unsuccessful and that the rumours were that Diane B had the job. We have lots of issues with Diane B. Not in an ability to do the job sense, but the fact that she's rude and unhelpful. What is of interest though is the fact that in retrospect it's almost as if the job spec was written for her - it lists all of her current skills - doesn't make us feel better but explains a lot.
Don't Read And Drive
I know this seems like pointless advice.
Surely, you're thinking, there's no-one out there stupid enough to balance a copy of Heat magazine on their steering whilst cruising down the motorway. Especially, you add to yourself, because it's so bloody dangerous and you might kill someone.
Well, if you're thinking that, you'd be wrong. There are people that stupid out there. Just yesterday, on the M5 I witnessed a numpty in a salesman silver Fiat doing just that. I was going to take a picture of her with my phone, cos I just know no-one will beleive me, but she got ahead of us and I didn't get an opportunity.
Surely, you're thinking, there's no-one out there stupid enough to balance a copy of Heat magazine on their steering whilst cruising down the motorway. Especially, you add to yourself, because it's so bloody dangerous and you might kill someone.
Well, if you're thinking that, you'd be wrong. There are people that stupid out there. Just yesterday, on the M5 I witnessed a numpty in a salesman silver Fiat doing just that. I was going to take a picture of her with my phone, cos I just know no-one will beleive me, but she got ahead of us and I didn't get an opportunity.
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Did I Mention...
...that I was still on holiday?
In fact I just spent a very productive day doing... NOTHING AT ALL!!!
In fact I just spent a very productive day doing... NOTHING AT ALL!!!
Sunday, October 17, 2004
My Weekend Away
Had a fairly relaxing weeekend at Hebron Hall in Dynas Powys (that'd be Sunny Wales) which is a Christian Conference centre. We went with 30-odd members of the church and had a very reasonable time, punctuated at regular intervals with very large meals (they described lasagne and chips followed by sticky toffee pudding as a 'light meal'). Can't complain about that!
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
The Cats Get High
It is a sad sad day when owners subject their cats to critical levels of catnip and reduce their poor defecless pussies to dribbling catnip junkies.
I swear that Rochester was jonesing almost as soon as we took the catnip fishy toy away from him. We had to do it, though. He'd ripped a hole in the side of the fish and emptied half the contents onto the floor where he rolled around and rubbed his face in his mess.
Ellie was a little more sensible about it. He merely slobbered all over his and turned it into a mushy catnip mess. niiiice.
I swear that Rochester was jonesing almost as soon as we took the catnip fishy toy away from him. We had to do it, though. He'd ripped a hole in the side of the fish and emptied half the contents onto the floor where he rolled around and rubbed his face in his mess.
Ellie was a little more sensible about it. He merely slobbered all over his and turned it into a mushy catnip mess. niiiice.
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Certifiably Lost
We've just been down 'south' for a couple of days, as Vic's mum was presented with her NVQ in ... er ... being an old-person-carer-forer. Anyway. She got an amusingly pointless blank scroll, a certificate and most importantly, a pen. Cool. Well done Vic's Mum.
Anyhoo. We started back from Walkford at a surprisingly resonable time and decided to stop off in Salisbury on the way back for a wander since we were driving through it anyway. Stut had previously mentioned that there was a good comic shop in Salisbury, so I was hoping to stop in and find a copy of Catwoman Thirty-something, which I need to complete the Batman storyline I'm reading.
Having been waylaid by an unexpected All-Day-Breakfast, we never did find the comic shop but we did succeed in getting hoplessly lost on the way back to the car. We probably spent more time searching for the car-park than we did actually looking round Salisbury itself.
One thinbg we did pick up while we were there was 2 fishy shaped catnip toys for the cats. Rather than being fullm of foam and a tiny, tiny amount of catnip, these were filled with just catnip. Loads of it. It'll be interesting to see how the cats react.
Well - Vic's off to see Hero tonight with some of her workmates, while I head out with Stead to see Layer Cake.
Anyhoo. We started back from Walkford at a surprisingly resonable time and decided to stop off in Salisbury on the way back for a wander since we were driving through it anyway. Stut had previously mentioned that there was a good comic shop in Salisbury, so I was hoping to stop in and find a copy of Catwoman Thirty-something, which I need to complete the Batman storyline I'm reading.
Having been waylaid by an unexpected All-Day-Breakfast, we never did find the comic shop but we did succeed in getting hoplessly lost on the way back to the car. We probably spent more time searching for the car-park than we did actually looking round Salisbury itself.
One thinbg we did pick up while we were there was 2 fishy shaped catnip toys for the cats. Rather than being fullm of foam and a tiny, tiny amount of catnip, these were filled with just catnip. Loads of it. It'll be interesting to see how the cats react.
Well - Vic's off to see Hero tonight with some of her workmates, while I head out with Stead to see Layer Cake.
Saturday, October 09, 2004
A Most Horrific Experience
Having stayed on in Bristol for a post-work drinkie last night, I came to realise just why I don't normally partake of such activities.
Having arrived at the bus-stop in plenty of time for the 18.35 bus home, I waited approximately 1 hour for a bus... The 18.35 did not turn up and the bus due at 19.10 sumply drove past with no regard for the half-dozen or so people frantically waving at it it.
All this time, having imbibed a pint or two of fluids in the pub, I was becoming more and more desperate for a wee. Busting, in fact.
When it reached 19.45 (the bus due at 19.35 simply didn't arrive), I decided enough was enough and phoned my personal chauffer (otherwise known as the Vickster) and pleaded for a collection service. To my relief, she agreed. Actually, relief was brobably the wrong word... if I'd been busting for a pee at 19.10, half an hour later, the contents of my bladder was reaching critical mass.
Fortunately, as I made my way to the designated rendezvous point, I noticed that the public convenience on Rupert Street was open for business. Thus I began the titular Horrific Experience.
The WC was dimly lit and the floor slippery with... er... well I'm not sure what it was slippery with and I don't think I want to know what it was slippery with (it was a thick viscous white fluid ansd ther was loads of it) - anyway, I made my way across this slippery deathtrap to the one cubicle with a door in it, shut myself in, bracing my feet against each side of the cubicle... the floor was so awash with... er... fluid that I would have been unable to stand otherwise and performed the requisite bodily function as quickly as possible. unfortunately, with 2 pints of coke in it, quickly was actually quite a long time.
During this time, two people entered the toilets. now anyone that's been in the centre of Bristol on a friday knight will know exactly why I was somewhat nervous. Kacking myself, to be accurate. I simple kept quiet and got on with the business at hand in the hope that I would not draw attention to myself.
Anyway... whatever these two lads were doing, it involved a ton of bog-roll (not real loo paper, the tracing paper stuff that is of no use to man nor beast) and what sounded like a very full tool bag.
Soon enough, they left. I waited a few moments, then departed myself - almost, but not quite slipping and landing on my face in the nameless horror that was the floor. I then made my way to the bottom of the Trenchard Steet car park, where I made myself look as big and scary as I could, so no-one would bother me. I doubt I looked big and scary, but no-one bothered me.
Vic came and rescued me a few minutes later. I love you Vic!
Having arrived at the bus-stop in plenty of time for the 18.35 bus home, I waited approximately 1 hour for a bus... The 18.35 did not turn up and the bus due at 19.10 sumply drove past with no regard for the half-dozen or so people frantically waving at it it.
All this time, having imbibed a pint or two of fluids in the pub, I was becoming more and more desperate for a wee. Busting, in fact.
When it reached 19.45 (the bus due at 19.35 simply didn't arrive), I decided enough was enough and phoned my personal chauffer (otherwise known as the Vickster) and pleaded for a collection service. To my relief, she agreed. Actually, relief was brobably the wrong word... if I'd been busting for a pee at 19.10, half an hour later, the contents of my bladder was reaching critical mass.
Fortunately, as I made my way to the designated rendezvous point, I noticed that the public convenience on Rupert Street was open for business. Thus I began the titular Horrific Experience.
The WC was dimly lit and the floor slippery with... er... well I'm not sure what it was slippery with and I don't think I want to know what it was slippery with (it was a thick viscous white fluid ansd ther was loads of it) - anyway, I made my way across this slippery deathtrap to the one cubicle with a door in it, shut myself in, bracing my feet against each side of the cubicle... the floor was so awash with... er... fluid that I would have been unable to stand otherwise and performed the requisite bodily function as quickly as possible. unfortunately, with 2 pints of coke in it, quickly was actually quite a long time.
During this time, two people entered the toilets. now anyone that's been in the centre of Bristol on a friday knight will know exactly why I was somewhat nervous. Kacking myself, to be accurate. I simple kept quiet and got on with the business at hand in the hope that I would not draw attention to myself.
Anyway... whatever these two lads were doing, it involved a ton of bog-roll (not real loo paper, the tracing paper stuff that is of no use to man nor beast) and what sounded like a very full tool bag.
Soon enough, they left. I waited a few moments, then departed myself - almost, but not quite slipping and landing on my face in the nameless horror that was the floor. I then made my way to the bottom of the Trenchard Steet car park, where I made myself look as big and scary as I could, so no-one would bother me. I doubt I looked big and scary, but no-one bothered me.
Vic came and rescued me a few minutes later. I love you Vic!
Friday, October 08, 2004
Still Nothing...
No phonecall. Nothing from HR. Can't get hold of The Man on the phone. I'm on holiday next week. What's a guy to do?
I'm a bit depressed about the whole thing now. Still - I'm going for a drink after work as it's Rob's last day in the office. Maybe that'll cheer me up.
I'm a bit depressed about the whole thing now. Still - I'm going for a drink after work as it's Rob's last day in the office. Maybe that'll cheer me up.
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
Pen 1 : Daz 0
Well, Pen got the phonecall today. She has an interview next week.
Oddly, I haven't even had the return slip back from my application, so I don't even know if it got to HR ok. If I don't hear anything tomorrow I'll give 'em a ring.
Oddly, I haven't even had the return slip back from my application, so I don't even know if it got to HR ok. If I don't hear anything tomorrow I'll give 'em a ring.
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