(no subject)
Funny now that the actual writing work has ended (for one project at least) I seem to have brain to spare for here. I'm supposed to be doing a blog on the directorial process which I'll link to shortly - have been blethering on about why and how we wrote the play and the process of casting - think it's important to spend tomorrow listening to music and tidying up in order to let my game plan come through. I got the C11 back from Swiss Cottage last night and walked down from Archway in the biting cold (I beat all buses down Holloway Road) I'm pale and grey this week. All static and shrivelled by the change in the weather and my health. I just want normal me back...
Came back into work to find that we are to move to the ground floor in May. After 2 and a half years of the lofty heights of the 7th (overlooking St Pauls and the Eye and the Gherkin in parts) we'll no longer see the sunsets, but at least we'll have no more of our idiosyncratic intelligent lifts. A bank of 6 lifts where you programme in the floor you are going to and it works out the most efficient one for you to take. However, humans are not always as clever than lifts, so however they are programmed the humans still try to get in the first lift that arrives. These lifts have never been programmed with an override after being wedged open or called to reopen after closing more than twice so you could end up in a lift ready to transport you and remain on the ground floor for several minutes as sevfish late comers try to throw themselves in. Hilariously at one point you could call the lift from the panel by the first and be sent to the 6th lift, by which time the door would close blissfully unaware that you hadn't had time to sprint the length of the lobby and go to the floor you had commanded it to without you in it. So they divided them into two banks of three. Then people would just go to both sets of panels and call a lift, stand in the middle and wait for the first one to arrive. So now they have hidden the displays showing what floor they are on so you just have to hope that something is happening. The best thing was sometimes if you forgot to look at the panel or just got into an open lift and forgot to press the call button from the outside, you would have no way of getting to your floor. I was trapped for 3 hilarious minutes once whilst I prayed that my lift would spring into some sort of action.
The displays in the lifts are equally amusing. Once I found myself on the 23rd floor of an 8 storey building. Sometimes the lift takes me to floor K (no idea). Sometimes it just shows a Windows boot up. Once the panel went red and declared it was on fire (best lift journey ever). Not as much fun as the haunted lift in the old Telegraph building that would plunge people 3 stories and just stay shut (and the story goes that it really was haunted). Anyway - that means for the first time in my professional career, I will be on the ground. Just as Crossrail ploughs directly underneath us. Great. Speaking of which, the hoardings outside the front of Liverpool Street are now so close to our front doors (last night as I left via our big revolving doors I was almost catapulted into the hoardings) that if they encroach any further our reception may as well have ticket machines, a guard and what the hell, be Platform 2. Bring on the large boring machines.
Came back into work to find that we are to move to the ground floor in May. After 2 and a half years of the lofty heights of the 7th (overlooking St Pauls and the Eye and the Gherkin in parts) we'll no longer see the sunsets, but at least we'll have no more of our idiosyncratic intelligent lifts. A bank of 6 lifts where you programme in the floor you are going to and it works out the most efficient one for you to take. However, humans are not always as clever than lifts, so however they are programmed the humans still try to get in the first lift that arrives. These lifts have never been programmed with an override after being wedged open or called to reopen after closing more than twice so you could end up in a lift ready to transport you and remain on the ground floor for several minutes as sevfish late comers try to throw themselves in. Hilariously at one point you could call the lift from the panel by the first and be sent to the 6th lift, by which time the door would close blissfully unaware that you hadn't had time to sprint the length of the lobby and go to the floor you had commanded it to without you in it. So they divided them into two banks of three. Then people would just go to both sets of panels and call a lift, stand in the middle and wait for the first one to arrive. So now they have hidden the displays showing what floor they are on so you just have to hope that something is happening. The best thing was sometimes if you forgot to look at the panel or just got into an open lift and forgot to press the call button from the outside, you would have no way of getting to your floor. I was trapped for 3 hilarious minutes once whilst I prayed that my lift would spring into some sort of action.
The displays in the lifts are equally amusing. Once I found myself on the 23rd floor of an 8 storey building. Sometimes the lift takes me to floor K (no idea). Sometimes it just shows a Windows boot up. Once the panel went red and declared it was on fire (best lift journey ever). Not as much fun as the haunted lift in the old Telegraph building that would plunge people 3 stories and just stay shut (and the story goes that it really was haunted). Anyway - that means for the first time in my professional career, I will be on the ground. Just as Crossrail ploughs directly underneath us. Great. Speaking of which, the hoardings outside the front of Liverpool Street are now so close to our front doors (last night as I left via our big revolving doors I was almost catapulted into the hoardings) that if they encroach any further our reception may as well have ticket machines, a guard and what the hell, be Platform 2. Bring on the large boring machines.