random content
Dear internet,
So I've been meaning to post for a while, but somehow there never seems to be enough time in the day. Still here, still reading.
In no particular order:
I went to see Maleficent with young E. and her friend, for the second time in a week. Quite an odd film, not perfect, but with a certain something (probably Angelina Jolie's cheekbones) that propels it into something else entirely.
I have a new bike! A dark blue Brompton folding bike with a leather Brooks saddle. It's lovely. I have started to take it on the train to London, and now cycle to work at the other end. The theory is that I get fitter and save a bit of money. The reality is that everyone I meet either (1) says, 'Oooh, are you the new Head of Values? (quoting the character in W1A, the BBC satire featuring Brompton-using senior managers) or (2) puts their head on one side and asks whether I'm not really really scared that I'll be run over.
Gratuitous intro to W1A:
There's no particularly good answer to (2) apart from a firm intention to avoid that as far as possible. I am cycling a rat run through Bloomsbury cycle paths to the wide roads north of Oxford Street. It's OK. I wear the highest of high-vis jackets, the route is reasonably quiet and it's certainly more traffic-free than the mean streets of Glasgow when I was a student.
It's also, what's the word? Unfeminine. Eccentric. I take the (folded) bike down to my desk the back way so that I can hide the helmet and the high-vis jacket before I bump into the beautiful ladies in designer jeans and 3 inch heels. Apparently, you can look really beautiful when cycling along, but you do need a bike with a wicker basket, and an awful lot of sunshine.
Work is...well, I don't know. It continues to be a mixture of interesting and maddening. I'm learning about teams and people. I haven't yet cracked effortless authority or outright aggression, both of which would serve me well. My current strategy is never to write an email when a chat or a meeting is possible: I make myself go and talk to people. Come to think of it, this is probably why I'm struggling to do anything much when I get home. I'm a reasonably sociable introvert, but this level of connection is off the scale.
(I've tried to write this about 5 times now while being interrupted by everyone). What else? There was more, and it was organised and vaguely amusing with some sort of narrative force. I have become addicted to Mumnset and MyFitnessPall forums. Now have the attention span of a goldfish.
Have joined the Women's Institute. New trendy branch has opened near me, so I am now popping along to support. The WI is now apparently 50% old ladies and 50% thirtysomethings who crochet. I feel I'm somewhere in the middle. B. is appalled, like all partners of new WI members. I think it's ironic but I'm not sure.
P. is doing AS levels and contemplating his future. E. is increasingly leggy and beautiful.
The dog has had a severe trim and now looks a bit like Grayson Perry in drag.
Am missing Scotland. Och.
Am not really missing being self-employed, although I could definitely do without getting up early.
And on that late night note, I'll wind up and come back another day,
xx
So I've been meaning to post for a while, but somehow there never seems to be enough time in the day. Still here, still reading.
In no particular order:
I went to see Maleficent with young E. and her friend, for the second time in a week. Quite an odd film, not perfect, but with a certain something (probably Angelina Jolie's cheekbones) that propels it into something else entirely.
I have a new bike! A dark blue Brompton folding bike with a leather Brooks saddle. It's lovely. I have started to take it on the train to London, and now cycle to work at the other end. The theory is that I get fitter and save a bit of money. The reality is that everyone I meet either (1) says, 'Oooh, are you the new Head of Values? (quoting the character in W1A, the BBC satire featuring Brompton-using senior managers) or (2) puts their head on one side and asks whether I'm not really really scared that I'll be run over.
Gratuitous intro to W1A:
Click to viewThere's no particularly good answer to (2) apart from a firm intention to avoid that as far as possible. I am cycling a rat run through Bloomsbury cycle paths to the wide roads north of Oxford Street. It's OK. I wear the highest of high-vis jackets, the route is reasonably quiet and it's certainly more traffic-free than the mean streets of Glasgow when I was a student.
It's also, what's the word? Unfeminine. Eccentric. I take the (folded) bike down to my desk the back way so that I can hide the helmet and the high-vis jacket before I bump into the beautiful ladies in designer jeans and 3 inch heels. Apparently, you can look really beautiful when cycling along, but you do need a bike with a wicker basket, and an awful lot of sunshine.
Work is...well, I don't know. It continues to be a mixture of interesting and maddening. I'm learning about teams and people. I haven't yet cracked effortless authority or outright aggression, both of which would serve me well. My current strategy is never to write an email when a chat or a meeting is possible: I make myself go and talk to people. Come to think of it, this is probably why I'm struggling to do anything much when I get home. I'm a reasonably sociable introvert, but this level of connection is off the scale.
(I've tried to write this about 5 times now while being interrupted by everyone). What else? There was more, and it was organised and vaguely amusing with some sort of narrative force. I have become addicted to Mumnset and MyFitnessPall forums. Now have the attention span of a goldfish.
Have joined the Women's Institute. New trendy branch has opened near me, so I am now popping along to support. The WI is now apparently 50% old ladies and 50% thirtysomethings who crochet. I feel I'm somewhere in the middle. B. is appalled, like all partners of new WI members. I think it's ironic but I'm not sure.
P. is doing AS levels and contemplating his future. E. is increasingly leggy and beautiful.
The dog has had a severe trim and now looks a bit like Grayson Perry in drag.
Am missing Scotland. Och.
Am not really missing being self-employed, although I could definitely do without getting up early.
And on that late night note, I'll wind up and come back another day,
xx