Hullo. I am not dead. I am just working. It is quite fun but there is an awful lot of it, so I do it most of the time, e.g. at 6am in the morning and 10pm at night. On Monday, I am training some Chinese people via conference call at 9pm and at 7.30am on Wednesday, I am talking to a lady in "EMEA" (i.e. Europe, Middle East & Africa - all of which are very similar, I am sure you will agree.)
When I am not doing work, I am thinking about Ron Swanson, and really, that is all that matters. When I am not thinking about Ron Swanson or work, I think about how on Wednesday night (10.45pm, Air Canada) we are leaving for London.
For one day I will yet again 'hang out' at the Canadian High Commission waiting for 4 hours for a temporary visa (because despite being a resident since 27 April 2011, the Canadian government are fuckwits and cannot send me the bit of plastic that allows me to fly in and out of Canada freely, like a free citizen of the world). Last time I went it was pouring with rain, but they kept us all outside, me stuffed under my tiny lady umbrella like an elephant hiding under frisbee, and the man in front of me un-protected but for his quiff, which started to collapse after 23 minutes of drizzle. They let us in, removed our computers and phones and left us in a waiting room with no clock and bars on the window with nothing to do but watch BBC1 on mute and wonder if we would ever get our passports back again. We did, of course, and then I went to Montpellier where I stayed in a hotel that smelled of despair and drank lukewarm water out of a paper cup.
I am going to London because I am going on holiday. Here is what we are doing:
Thursday: Canadian High Commission. Then a B&B. A nice one. That does not smell of despair.
Friday: Meet best friend for ladychitchat.
Saturday: Wedding. (Not mine.)
Sunday: Hangover. Dinner.
Monday: Pick up car in Kennington. Drive to North Wales.
Thursday: Go to Brecon Beacons.
Friday: Go to Bath.
Sunday: Go to Devon.
Monday: Go to Cornwall. Cycle about. Lost Gardens of Heligan. That sort of thing.
Thursday: Go to somewhere else.
Friday: Ditto.
Saturday: Not sure either.
Sunday: 10.50am. Fly back to Canada.
I am very fucking tired. I hope I will sleep a lot. The other day, someone asked me where I was born and I couldn't remember.
What is going on out there in the world, apart from Cheryl Cole?
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Pip pip!
NWM
When I am not doing work, I am thinking about Ron Swanson, and really, that is all that matters. When I am not thinking about Ron Swanson or work, I think about how on Wednesday night (10.45pm, Air Canada) we are leaving for London.
For one day I will yet again 'hang out' at the Canadian High Commission waiting for 4 hours for a temporary visa (because despite being a resident since 27 April 2011, the Canadian government are fuckwits and cannot send me the bit of plastic that allows me to fly in and out of Canada freely, like a free citizen of the world). Last time I went it was pouring with rain, but they kept us all outside, me stuffed under my tiny lady umbrella like an elephant hiding under frisbee, and the man in front of me un-protected but for his quiff, which started to collapse after 23 minutes of drizzle. They let us in, removed our computers and phones and left us in a waiting room with no clock and bars on the window with nothing to do but watch BBC1 on mute and wonder if we would ever get our passports back again. We did, of course, and then I went to Montpellier where I stayed in a hotel that smelled of despair and drank lukewarm water out of a paper cup.
I am going to London because I am going on holiday. Here is what we are doing:
Thursday: Canadian High Commission. Then a B&B. A nice one. That does not smell of despair.
Friday: Meet best friend for ladychitchat.
Saturday: Wedding. (Not mine.)
Sunday: Hangover. Dinner.
Monday: Pick up car in Kennington. Drive to North Wales.
Thursday: Go to Brecon Beacons.
Friday: Go to Bath.
Sunday: Go to Devon.
Monday: Go to Cornwall. Cycle about. Lost Gardens of Heligan. That sort of thing.
Thursday: Go to somewhere else.
Friday: Ditto.
Saturday: Not sure either.
Sunday: 10.50am. Fly back to Canada.
I am very fucking tired. I hope I will sleep a lot. The other day, someone asked me where I was born and I couldn't remember.
What is going on out there in the world, apart from Cheryl Cole?
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Pip pip!
NWM
3 comments:
What's going on in the world other than Cheryl Cole? Ryan Giggs. That's about it.
Have a marvellous holibags!!!
Ali x
Brilliant - daily blogs of nice rooms and puddings please
have a lovely holiday, and by that i mean bisquits and coffees
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