The Thief's Journal

I rode the pilot’s seat (at the very front on the top deck) of the 15 bus to work today. It’s my new route in, and at the time of day that I caught it, the bus seems to head directly into the rising sun. I’ve started to read the Thief’s Journal by Jean Genet, a filthy little horror of a book. I like it.

Kate was working, and Matt and Chaw were out, so I had the whole house to myself. I made mushrooms, tomatoes, and pasta as I listened to some of Kate’s records and then mooched about in my cargo pants. Spotify. Facebook. A bit of studying. And slowly starting to feel less like a visitor and more like a resident. Slowly…

Oh shit, it's the BNP

So, the BNP have won two seats in the North, one of them in my patch, the North-West. I wish I'd voted. I spent the evening online, one eye on Dimbleby, the other on my twitter feed. (follow me? look right to see how!) Ryan was online too. I'm gonna miss that crazy vegan.

England vs Argentina

Clare and Paul helped me move house in the morning. Later on, Nick, Kumbi Paul and I went to the England match at Old Trafford. Our seats were so high up in the East Stand that we couldn't see the top half of the goalposts, and couldn't tell if conversions or drop-goals were successful. And there was quite a lot of kicking. The crowd began booing each time ball went to boot. Daft, in that England were fielding a relatively un-tested centre combination, and were never more than a converted try ahead until very close to the end. Bah!

Nick, Kumbi and I went into Chorlton for a couple of pints after the game. Well, more like five pints, as it turned out. Were they more drunk than I was? Well they had started earlier on, during the Lions game.

A drunken punch up at a wedding

In the midst of packing, I got a call from Woody. “Mate…” He was drunk. “…mate, do you want to come to a party?” It was about half-nine. “It’s for Clare’s boss’s daughter’s twenty-first birthday. Free bar.” I put down my boxes and brown tape, and put on my shoes.

If Woody was pissed, then Clare and her colleague Sarah was hammered. “They’ve had two bottles of wine. Each.” said Tom. We set off. However, St John’s church, on Edge Lane, and St John’s parish centre, on High Lane, are not the same place. One is quite a bit further away than the other. And hammered Clare had told us the wrong one. The far one. It was raining. It was cold. The girls were hammered. Tom and I marched ahead, trying to find the place. The girls seemed to stop, and then vanish. They just disappeared.

Calm and rational eyes would have seen the simple truth: we’d set out for the wrong St John’s centre, and the girls, going more slowly, had seen the right one and nipped in away from the rain. Calm and rational eyes. But Woody, drunk, thought Clare, hammered, had ditched us. Deliberately. Uh-oh!

A bit of aggression between them at the (not free, it turned out) bar. Slightly awkward. But not that bad. And then we found a table. Two tables. The girls on one, the boys on the other. Woody was doing that thing where you talk yourself up into being pissed off. “I wouldn’t have done that to her… just out of order… no way…” Sipping my first pint, it all seemed a little silly. Still. We came together. I tried to entertain Sarah as the argument began. Sarah’s quite cute, very indie, very my type. Very attached though. So it goes.

Smoking outside, Tom explained that he was a bit stressed about changing jobs, and that was behind the argument in part. “It’s our first ever argument,” he said with a smile. I’m glad I was there to witness it.

FTTDFF 2

I got some props for the Fun Things To Do For Free site that I made about a year ago via twitter. Thank you @kayddee

Upwards management, the Danish Gambit

She acknowledged that she’d have to prepare for our meeting at _____, so I finally managed to collar my boss for half an hour this morning. How much influencing and persuading could I manage in that time? How much uphill management? I worked hard, and I worked fast. First, project management. Now, my loyal army of readers will know that I’m a big fan of project management, that flow charts rock my world, that… anyway, I love it. I’d done a lot of work on a new process. How could I make my boss feel like she’d come up with it?

“I’ve had a few ideas, I wondered if you could suggest any ways to improve them?”

It was just like the Danish Gambit, sacrificing a little something to develop the Centre Game. She suggested that we add a box here, rename a process there, next to what I’d suggested, it was virtually identical. And she felt like she’d been at its heart. Brown-nose time, let's get complimenting...

“Wow, that’s something I’d not thought of at all, we should definitely edit that. Good thinking [my boss]!”

...and so on. The interviews. The consultation. Team management. Pow! Pow! Pow! My boss had some great ideas today. At least, she thought they were her ideas.

The answer to the question is: "A little better."

I met Woody for a beer in the Woodstock, his new place of work. They were robbed after the Bank Holiday, he told me. Four massive guys with an angle grinder went to work on the safe. Shit. It’s set back from the main road, sure, but its only 400m from a police station. That takes some stones. And how was he coping with the move from a high-pressure target-based call-centre team-leader to slow, afternoon, bar work, sweeping the occasional patio? Pretty well, it seemed. Early doors though, not being stressed takes a bit of time to get used to.

The British Lions romped through the Golden Lions, scoring ten tries to their opponents’ two. Satisfied with their performance, I went to Milner’s for Thai food. Amazing, very peanut-centred! Cally and Ali were there too. Cally’s joining the police. I was dumbstruck. We put on the telly.

After successfully avoiding all that bollucks with Susan Boyle whilst it was going on, I saw her singing for the first time. I was touched, though not for the sappy reasons that many others were touched – my first ever girlfriend put the song I Dreamed A Dream on the tape that she made for me when I went away to University and broke both our hearts. It all came back to me.

“Have I got any better at managing my exes since then?” I wondered in the taxi home. They were playing Nelly and Kelly’s Dilemma. I hate that piece of shit song.

Mock results

The e-tutor report says that I've done pretty well with my mock exam. That's filled me with confidence, and made me feel like the hard work I've been doing is worth it. Three weeks until the real thing. I think I'll be okay. Now, let's move house!

"You have received a message from..."

You have received a message from... WHO? Wow, I thought she'd disowned me... oh... it's a group message

Real mock

Bingo! The two questions that I answered yesterday in my mock mock came up today in my real mock. Yeehaw! So I celebrated doing what I hoped was pretty well in the only sane fashion possible, with four pints in the Castlefield sunshine, and then four more indoors. I love Monday night drinking.