What with Nano and what have you, I've let things slide here. Most remiss of me (the Nano itself is going pretty well, better than I expected anyway).
So anyway, I am back in the world of paid employment after my (much needed and much enjoyed) month and a bit off. I am being a barman again, in a pub (which is short term measure, exciting things should be happening in the New Year but I don't want to put the mockers on them by banging on about them now). Now pub bartending is v. v. different from restaurant bartending, the upside being that you don't have to be anywhere near as polite. The down side beng old men who've sat at the same stool for forty years, have "their glass", and assume that you telepathically know their order (such as yesterdays FIRST SHIFT where and old guy wandered up and grunted "usual" at me, to which my response was a fairly understandable "wtf you've never seen me before in your life, nor I you, how on earth do I know what you want?"). It's pleasant enough for the time being, and I'll have fun whipping the other staff into some sort of shape (it's an absolute farrago at the moment).
Next item: now I would like to take this opportunity to declare that I have less than zero interest in golf. I'm sure it's played by many lovely, lovely people, but the golf club regulars who used to eat at Le Frog have soured me completely on the game (that's right. "Game". It's not a "Sport" unless you break a sweat you fat fuckers). However, that being said, Lawrence Donegan's article in todays Guardian has got me rooting for David Drysdale, whose all round decency has led to Coastalblog adopting him as its token golfer. Go on Davy D! Qualify!
And finally, last night's television had your humble correspondent and his fellow viewer foaming at the mouth with rage for two reasons. Firstly the bloke who won Mastermind did so via a sequence of ridiculously easy question. Everyone elses were of the usual difficulty. The gentleman in question has also won "Who wants to be a Millionaire" though Coastalblog is at pains to point out that in NO WAY am I suggesting anything untoward. I just think that if I'd been one of the other contestants I'd have been mightily annoyed. The other occasion was during the advert breaks on CSI (I know, okay?). the idents for Toucan broadband promise us the ability to "download pictures in real time."
Download. Pictures. In. Real. Time.
Not since Phillippa Forrester asked us to "imagine a truly interactive environment" have I been so gobsmacked.
So anyway, I am back in the world of paid employment after my (much needed and much enjoyed) month and a bit off. I am being a barman again, in a pub (which is short term measure, exciting things should be happening in the New Year but I don't want to put the mockers on them by banging on about them now). Now pub bartending is v. v. different from restaurant bartending, the upside being that you don't have to be anywhere near as polite. The down side beng old men who've sat at the same stool for forty years, have "their glass", and assume that you telepathically know their order (such as yesterdays FIRST SHIFT where and old guy wandered up and grunted "usual" at me, to which my response was a fairly understandable "wtf you've never seen me before in your life, nor I you, how on earth do I know what you want?"). It's pleasant enough for the time being, and I'll have fun whipping the other staff into some sort of shape (it's an absolute farrago at the moment).
Next item: now I would like to take this opportunity to declare that I have less than zero interest in golf. I'm sure it's played by many lovely, lovely people, but the golf club regulars who used to eat at Le Frog have soured me completely on the game (that's right. "Game". It's not a "Sport" unless you break a sweat you fat fuckers). However, that being said, Lawrence Donegan's article in todays Guardian has got me rooting for David Drysdale, whose all round decency has led to Coastalblog adopting him as its token golfer. Go on Davy D! Qualify!
And finally, last night's television had your humble correspondent and his fellow viewer foaming at the mouth with rage for two reasons. Firstly the bloke who won Mastermind did so via a sequence of ridiculously easy question. Everyone elses were of the usual difficulty. The gentleman in question has also won "Who wants to be a Millionaire" though Coastalblog is at pains to point out that in NO WAY am I suggesting anything untoward. I just think that if I'd been one of the other contestants I'd have been mightily annoyed. The other occasion was during the advert breaks on CSI (I know, okay?). the idents for Toucan broadband promise us the ability to "download pictures in real time."
Download. Pictures. In. Real. Time.
Not since Phillippa Forrester asked us to "imagine a truly interactive environment" have I been so gobsmacked.
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