(no subject)
I ought to write about fun times in Edinburgh and Cambridge with many beloved friends. I ought to write about ongoing flat-hunting. I ought to write about how I'm learning to love Belfast again. 'Fraid I can't be bothered, except to thank everyone who lent me floorspace to crash on, fed me, danced with me, drank G&Ts with me, and talked with me late into the night. So great sweeping thanks to everyone who has been lovely and welcoming, and great sweeping apologies to anybody I've upset in my recent (regrettably drunken) jaunts to the mainland.
Instead, I'm going to whinge about having to be in work from 9-5. 9pm to 5am, that is. Grrrrrrr. I wanted Friday off to snatch a few hours of pub time with fhtagn and so had to swop for a graveyard shift. Still, if all goes as planned nightshifts will become a thing of the past soon enough... I'll just have to lug around a laptop and a pager when I'm on-call.
So anyway. Am stuck in work, all by myself, waiting for a computer to go wrong somewhere in the US. I had a false alarm about two hours ago, but since then I have been trying to stay awake by feutering round on t' interweb. Occasionally I have to get up and dance to make the motion activated lights come back on. Pity me.
I was looking out the window over Belfast's nightscape, and was playing zigguratted's game of removing all the new buildings (see her post on the subject if you don't know what I mean). But there wasn't much left... I had a market. And a pub or three, but that was about it.
I was all ready to rant about Northern Irish job application forms. But it'll have to wait for another post (sorry, I know you all look forward to posts about paperwork). Bastarding proxy server won't let me ftp the pics I need to illustrate the rant up to my webspace. Grrrrrrrr. See if you can all contain your excitement until next time.
--scrake, who is grouchy
Instead, I'm going to whinge about having to be in work from 9-5. 9pm to 5am, that is. Grrrrrrr. I wanted Friday off to snatch a few hours of pub time with fhtagn and so had to swop for a graveyard shift. Still, if all goes as planned nightshifts will become a thing of the past soon enough... I'll just have to lug around a laptop and a pager when I'm on-call.
So anyway. Am stuck in work, all by myself, waiting for a computer to go wrong somewhere in the US. I had a false alarm about two hours ago, but since then I have been trying to stay awake by feutering round on t' interweb. Occasionally I have to get up and dance to make the motion activated lights come back on. Pity me.
I was looking out the window over Belfast's nightscape, and was playing zigguratted's game of removing all the new buildings (see her post on the subject if you don't know what I mean). But there wasn't much left... I had a market. And a pub or three, but that was about it.
I was all ready to rant about Northern Irish job application forms. But it'll have to wait for another post (sorry, I know you all look forward to posts about paperwork). Bastarding proxy server won't let me ftp the pics I need to illustrate the rant up to my webspace. Grrrrrrrr. See if you can all contain your excitement until next time.
--scrake, who is grouchy