Back to work...
Well - truly back to work now. The mill. The quest. Stuff I'll fall asleep worrying about...
...but only because this new project is so invariably exciting. Was home late - having been at a big meeting in Manchester all day - scoping the possible solutions company who can take the project home.
There's always a far flung StarBucks in these 'proper' cities also - and foreign bookshops to muse over.
Staggered to see the amount of cricket fervour, 'oer the border.
Cricket. Is it just me, or is it about as exciting as oatmeal? Due to lack of interest tomorrow is
cancelled. I've decided. If I pick up another poxy circular convincing itself that 'the better team won' I'm gonna go gaga.
Chwarae teg to the English though. Probably picked 'em up some after Northern Ireland's satisfying
victory the other night. There is much to be said for failure. It is more interesting than success, for
starters.
What is it about the English problem with failure? However unimportant. Said football match, for example. Doesn't make a difference! They'll likely get through...
...but lose one game, as they have - and they're claiming the head of their manager. Well - two games [chuckle] - but who's counting?
Only, when they do win the next game, it'll be crudely and hastily stitched back on. Crown in place. Hailed, duly, as a redeemer of man. I genuinely feel sorry for the players. England are an average football team, with some real class elements. Invariably, they have just about every trophy won before a ball is kicked. When they do lose - no matter how insignificant - there's insane pondering - intense debate - about how such a thing happened. At all.
It's infuriating. Not to mention tremendously arrogant.
There was one lad at Chester station - shell suit - emblazoned with Union Jack style throughout - socks tucked into his white trainers, baseball cap askew, 'Beckham' engraved annoyingly somewhat off centre in the middle of his gargantuan dome. Cricket? Raving about it.
Hey - that's not to say the 'failure factory', so encouraged by the press and the like - isn't equally as grating back home in Scotland.
Terrible business in N.Ireland. One dwells on Cromwell and Charles Stewart and Scottish settlers in Ulster.
Met Sian at the hospital. Scuttled home in the wind. Ate the mince & tatties she prepared earlier. Not at all bad. :o) Awen fell asleep after reading 'The Kind Little Bear'. It's still very windy outside. Time to get warm and fall asleep...
...but only because this new project is so invariably exciting. Was home late - having been at a big meeting in Manchester all day - scoping the possible solutions company who can take the project home.
There's always a far flung StarBucks in these 'proper' cities also - and foreign bookshops to muse over.
Staggered to see the amount of cricket fervour, 'oer the border.
Cricket. Is it just me, or is it about as exciting as oatmeal? Due to lack of interest tomorrow is
cancelled. I've decided. If I pick up another poxy circular convincing itself that 'the better team won' I'm gonna go gaga.
Chwarae teg to the English though. Probably picked 'em up some after Northern Ireland's satisfying
victory the other night. There is much to be said for failure. It is more interesting than success, for
starters.
What is it about the English problem with failure? However unimportant. Said football match, for example. Doesn't make a difference! They'll likely get through...
...but lose one game, as they have - and they're claiming the head of their manager. Well - two games [chuckle] - but who's counting?
Only, when they do win the next game, it'll be crudely and hastily stitched back on. Crown in place. Hailed, duly, as a redeemer of man. I genuinely feel sorry for the players. England are an average football team, with some real class elements. Invariably, they have just about every trophy won before a ball is kicked. When they do lose - no matter how insignificant - there's insane pondering - intense debate - about how such a thing happened. At all.
It's infuriating. Not to mention tremendously arrogant.
There was one lad at Chester station - shell suit - emblazoned with Union Jack style throughout - socks tucked into his white trainers, baseball cap askew, 'Beckham' engraved annoyingly somewhat off centre in the middle of his gargantuan dome. Cricket? Raving about it.
Hey - that's not to say the 'failure factory', so encouraged by the press and the like - isn't equally as grating back home in Scotland.
Terrible business in N.Ireland. One dwells on Cromwell and Charles Stewart and Scottish settlers in Ulster.
Met Sian at the hospital. Scuttled home in the wind. Ate the mince & tatties she prepared earlier. Not at all bad. :o) Awen fell asleep after reading 'The Kind Little Bear'. It's still very windy outside. Time to get warm and fall asleep...