Right after the outlaw flew out, the niece moved in. She's a definite improvement, in fact she's very like her uncle in many ways, just more mature. She's the most sensible person that's ever stayed here, aside from me perhaps.
When I was her age, I was an idiot. Why isn't she? Well she grew up without the Teutonic toilet training. That would help.
Of course, like all modern kids she grew up with the world waiting for her, with the result that they have no time management skills whatsoever. It all balances up.
A neighbour phoned the other day, with a computer panic. He's still running Windows 98 on a 12 year old PC. Compared to that, the guy with the hut is cutting-edge.
Anyway, I put the trousers on, and went and saw his PC. Luckily it was a simple thing to fix. Often with these old systems, you spend hours tinkering to no avail. He was so pleased, he forced a half-decent bottle of wine on me.
Yesterday I was on the training course again. At my age, this is probably the last time I'll ever be sent on a course, so I should make the most of it. I pigged out on free biscuits, and 6 cups of strong black tea to keep me awake. Disgraceful.
At home last night there were two bottles of white wine with the meal. A German Spatlese, too sweet. And a NZ Sauvignon, too acid. Well of course I mixed a tumbler full of perfect balance.
Today at the pool I only managed a kilometre. After a blissful siesta, I'm lying in bed with a Mozart symphony on the radio, a late one by the sound of it. What a fortunate creature I am, to be on holiday. When I go back to work, thanks to the new pay deal I'll only have one day off each week. Basturns.
Thursday, January 14
Monday, January 11
running and walking and holiday photie
The old guys who sometimes visit here run for miles. But they have the advantage of a suitable climate. Where I live, runners tend to melt. Nevertheless, yesterday morning after the usual walk, when I could be sure all the old injuries had fully warmed up, I ran once round the park. Four minutes or so. Pathetic, but there was no damage, so I'll do it again.
When I run there are usually several useful side effects, some of them printable. For one thing, for the rest of the day the appetite soars. Yesterday, five o'clock nibbles went on for so long, I had to open a second bottle of beer! If I can just run a couple of times a week and avoid injury, I'll end up eating enough to achieve fat bastardhood.
On holiday recently, I did lots of walking, which is good but not as good as running. In the photo, you can just see the cellmate disappearing over the horizon in an attempt to avoid being in the shot.
When I run there are usually several useful side effects, some of them printable. For one thing, for the rest of the day the appetite soars. Yesterday, five o'clock nibbles went on for so long, I had to open a second bottle of beer! If I can just run a couple of times a week and avoid injury, I'll end up eating enough to achieve fat bastardhood.
On holiday recently, I did lots of walking, which is good but not as good as running. In the photo, you can just see the cellmate disappearing over the horizon in an attempt to avoid being in the shot.
Saturday, January 9
some people can't bear not to work
Many years ago, in the last century, I used to work in a dead-end office in Edinburgh. After 4 years in the job, I had had enough of wage slavery. Enough of going to work on icy-cold dark mornings. So I handed in my resignation.
When people in the office asked me what I was going to do when I left the job, I told them the truth - I was going on the dole. Most of them reacted in the same way - the shock! The horror!
"How can you do nothing?"
"You'll have no money to spend!"
"How will you you fill your day?"
"You'll have no reason to get out of bed"
That was when it dawned on me that most people need to be told what to do with their time. Otherwise they go to pieces. I'm not sure of the technical term for such a person, but I think it ends in -heid.
As my leaving day drew near, they took the usual collection of money to buy me a leaving present. The office manager asked me what I wanted them to buy with the money. She expected me to say something like a new job interview suit. I told her - an electric blanket to warm my bed, and a tea-maker so I don't have to get out of bed for my morning cuppa.
At the presentation ceremony, I thanked everyone for the blanket and tea-maker, and assured them I would be reminded of them every morning as I had breakfast in a warm bed.
As it turned out, the year I spent on the dole was one of the busiest in my life - visiting people; spending days in libraries to find out things I had always wanted to know about; getting fit; teaching myself programming; travelling in the Highlands; applying for courses anywhere but Edinburgh. No offence to Edinbrovians.
If there are any British taxpayers reading this, I'd like to thank them for sponsoring me for that wonderful year. What a fortunate creature I was!
When people in the office asked me what I was going to do when I left the job, I told them the truth - I was going on the dole. Most of them reacted in the same way - the shock! The horror!
"How can you do nothing?"
"You'll have no money to spend!"
"How will you you fill your day?"
"You'll have no reason to get out of bed"
That was when it dawned on me that most people need to be told what to do with their time. Otherwise they go to pieces. I'm not sure of the technical term for such a person, but I think it ends in -heid.
As my leaving day drew near, they took the usual collection of money to buy me a leaving present. The office manager asked me what I wanted them to buy with the money. She expected me to say something like a new job interview suit. I told her - an electric blanket to warm my bed, and a tea-maker so I don't have to get out of bed for my morning cuppa.
At the presentation ceremony, I thanked everyone for the blanket and tea-maker, and assured them I would be reminded of them every morning as I had breakfast in a warm bed.
As it turned out, the year I spent on the dole was one of the busiest in my life - visiting people; spending days in libraries to find out things I had always wanted to know about; getting fit; teaching myself programming; travelling in the Highlands; applying for courses anywhere but Edinburgh. No offence to Edinbrovians.
If there are any British taxpayers reading this, I'd like to thank them for sponsoring me for that wonderful year. What a fortunate creature I was!
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