Life, the universe and everything
As I predicted, obtaining computer access in the holidays has been essentially impossible. So how, I hear you clamour, am I creating this piece of art. You see, all is not lost as I am now the proud owner of a Blackberry! That's what I call a 21st birthday present. I'll admit I was initially dubious, mostly because I had to realise that I've devoted a startling degree of my self image to my crappy (but incredibly functional) Nokia.
However, mostly because it provides me with internet access, I now adore my Blackberry. I would give quite a lot for a larger keyboard right now but at least I'm finally reconnected to LJ and my fandoms.
Anyway, work is going well given that my boss seriously didn't appreciate that undergraduate chemists are probably more useful broken down for trace metals. Cycling to work is also going relatively well. It'd not nearly as much fun as cycling in town where most of the enjoyment comes from cutting up taxis. Also my route takes me across a bridlepath which gave me a valuable crash course in what happens to bikes when they are ridden in very thick, wet clay. Mud guard has never been such an oxymoron.
Also, what is it about families that makes them believe that 'it was fine' followed by a change of subject means 'I am hiding a deep trauma which can only be helped by talking about it' rather than 'I have been at work all day and so do not wish to talk about it now I've got home'?
However, mostly because it provides me with internet access, I now adore my Blackberry. I would give quite a lot for a larger keyboard right now but at least I'm finally reconnected to LJ and my fandoms.
Anyway, work is going well given that my boss seriously didn't appreciate that undergraduate chemists are probably more useful broken down for trace metals. Cycling to work is also going relatively well. It'd not nearly as much fun as cycling in town where most of the enjoyment comes from cutting up taxis. Also my route takes me across a bridlepath which gave me a valuable crash course in what happens to bikes when they are ridden in very thick, wet clay. Mud guard has never been such an oxymoron.
Also, what is it about families that makes them believe that 'it was fine' followed by a change of subject means 'I am hiding a deep trauma which can only be helped by talking about it' rather than 'I have been at work all day and so do not wish to talk about it now I've got home'?