Friday, 1 November 2013


I cam into work - I didn't have to - I finished all the outstanding work for this week last night - everything is either with the client for review, or at the printers and invoiced. I came in because it's better than staying at home getting depressed and angry, because, once again - I've not been paid on time and it's gone over to the new month - so even if I get paid today, I have a stack of bank charges and I really can't face sitting at home getting angry about it. If I'm late with anything, I get balled out or sacked - but it does not seem to work the other way around.

I've waked to work in phenomenally bad weather, I'm soaking wet and really should think about bringing a change of clothes into work in future - the rain is biblical. I'm going to spend the day doing work for myself - it should stop raining mid afternoon, and then I'm going home to a cold, damp house and experiencing another weekend without spending any money. I had intended going to see the NT live encore broadcast of Frankenstein last night, but didn't want to risk the £13 it would cost me - so I decided against it.

As it was Halloween, I moved the computer into the dining room and spent the night there - rather than deal with kids who think banging on doors and stressing out dogs is fun, one of my neighbours set off a load of fireworks, so I ended up dealing with scared dogs anyway. on my walk into work - I saw 3 young girls who were on the walk of shame, still in their 'sexy schoolgirl zombie' outfits, smeared green face paint running in the rain, and one who had both her knees bandaged with real blood seeping through. It seems that almost all the girls of Hastings went out last night dressed as an undead, but still 'sexy' version of Britney Spears, circa "One More Time".

Really enjoying the Brookes / Coulson drama - wonder when someone will start asking questions about the fact Brookes lobbied very hard to get Coulson into Number 10 as a special adviser, whilst they were still 'in a relationship' - very messy for our ham-faced PM.

Soaking wet, my jeans smell of wet dog. Nobody is saying anything...

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