Day 139: I Am Writing A PowerPoint Presentation, And Conducting Further Research Into The Canada

I haven't written a Powerpoint presentation for months. I hate them, as it goes. Some years ago, I managed to find a way of condensing an entire argument onto one A2 piece of board and single sheet of A4 paper. Not only was this a cunning Time Saving Device, but it stopped people dozing off at the back of a room as flies committed hara-kiri against the endless sheet glass windows and biscuits softened in the afternoon heat.

However, most people are reassured by a PowerPoint presentation, as they feel they are Meaningful and have taken a long time to write, despite being 114 pages long and mainly full of the words "irrelevant bollocks that no-one's really interested in, that I have copied from somewhere else and re-ordered in the hope that no-one will notice because they will be asleep."

But today for the Work I am writing a Powerpoint Presentation! I am having such fun, you would not believe! Here is a document that is one million words long. Now please make it into a few slides. OK then, I will! Now that's what PowerPoint's for.

Meanwhile, as global strategies are summarised in two lines, I am doing some further low-level research into the Canada, or more specifically, Mooses.

Some of them are very fat, maybe because they have been eating maple syrup and poutine.

















They have facial hair, like everyone in Montreal (apart from the ladies, unless they have a hormonal disorder):























When they go out together, they like to wear matching clothes so they don't lose each other. (If they go abroad, one of them holds a fluorescent sign that says "Mooses Ici" on it, assuming the Mooses are Quebecois.) As it is often chilly in Canada, they take care to wrap up warm. Sometimes, they wrap up in matching clothes, which kills two birds with one stone. That makes them happy.























And finally, having laboured under the misapprehension that a Moose was perhaps the size of a Large Horse, but with a bigger nose and enormous antlers, I was astonished to find that not only is a Moose smaller than an average-sized man but that (a little like the rabbit and his ears), they are most comfortable when being held up by their antlers.

The internet is a wonderful thing, my friends. You should try it!

SPLENDID MONKEY GALLERY: Picture 18

Regular readers will be aware of the work of Splendid Monkey Gallery, in which loyal readers and occasional visitors send me pictures of Monkeys they think are Splendid, often accompanied by Mysterious Notes. There is to be a once-monthly vote, in which monkey of the month is to be Decided (by me).

However, I am fond of democracy. This Thursday, I will therefore Attempt to Post All The Submissions So Far overnight and put them to the vote whilst I Fly Away to the Colonies.

In the meantime, there is a very special monkey that should have seen the light of day. But he was to do with me redesigning my blog in a fancy stylee and I've never got round to it. (Because I don't know how to.) But that isn't to say that this monkey shouldn't be seen, because secretly I think he's the best one. (And let me tell you, there's some smashers stored up for Future Reference!).



Dave Shelton made him with his own hands. It is a True Likeness of me sitting at my workstation in Monkey Towers tormented by squirrels, wearing a fez, smoking a small clay pipe and drinking a cup of tea laced with absinthe.

Dave is trying to find a flat at the moment, but will you go and look at his blog? Only because if you scroll down to the post before last, there is one of the loveliest drawings I have seen for a long time. And if you keep going you will find all sorts of marvellous things, like penguins and elephants in suits. Ça vaut le détour, as they say in France (and probably in the French Canada, too).

Day 138: I Prepare For My Trip To Canada

Regular readers will be aware that I am Embarking Upon A Trip To The Colonies on Friday, from whence I shall blog in Weird French and be damned. As a result, I have Many Preparations to undertake.

Over the next few days, for example, I will be re-reading the Very Mysterious Guidelines offered by the Canadian Immigration Service ...

"As a visitor, you can bring certain goods into Canada for your own use as “personal baggage.” Personal baggage includes clothing, camping and sports equipment, cameras, tape recorders and personal computers. It also includes vehicles, private boats and aircraft."

... and acquainting myself with the Wildlife of the Canada using the internet and a pencil. Today it is Beavers. They mainly look like this:



















I think I will like it there. The beavers smile and I can take my private boat on the aeroplane. Hooray!

Day 138: I Am Wearing My Glasses!

I NEVER wear my glasses. I haven't worn them since I last worked, over 138 days ago! I only ever need them when I am doing a lot of dirty things at once involving computer screens, thinking and writing. This is an outrage! Soon my back will be aching and I will try and order stationery from the fourteenth floor but will be thwarted, for there is no fourteenth floor in my ground floor flat (complete with a cheery Postroom containing hard backed blue books, biros and staplers). If I want stationery nowadays I have to go to WHSmith and buy it with my own hands, using my own monkey money.

The phone is ringing. There is no-one to answer it. And the printer is broken! I need an IT department! There is no-one to get me tea, or order me a cab. There is no-one to say "what do you think?" to, or to make do my work so I can put my feet up on my desk and eat sweets. There is just me, the stupid fat fuckwit cat, my slowly aching back and my ill-fitting spectacles with a random blob of pointless Superglue somewhere it was not needed in the first place.

I am now Not At All Sure about this working from home lark.

Day 138: I Am Working!

Heavens to Murgatroyd! I am sitting in my kitchen on the wireless inter-net with the typing cable in the power socket. Radio 4 is burbling. Otherwise there is Silence, other than some rustling, a sigh or two, the scritch-scratch of a pencil, the tippety-tap of my monkey paws on the keyboard and the odd 'ping' of an email.

There are no phones ringing and no stupid questions. The email in my inbox is from people I like, or at least know. I have done a lot of washing and loaded and unloaded the dishwasher twice. I have moved the spices around in the cupboard and made some coffee. There is a packet of biscuits in the cupboard that I have not opened and will not open. I have cooked and eaten my own lunch and later, I shall eat a pear and buy some new knickers on the line. The only problem is that every time I stand up, the stupid fat fuckwit of a cat sits in my chair and has to be picked up (no mean feat, despite Royal Canin lo-cal catfood) and shoved off, mewling pathetically until I pat him on the head (whilst wrinkling my nose in distain).














The table I am sitting at is the table MM and MF had when I was a Very Small Child. I had an au pair who would make apple strudel on it by pulling one bit of pastry out until she had covered it, and then she would fold it over and over until the Strudel was made. I wonder if I can do it too. No. I must work. Yes, work, not Austrian cakes. Don't move. The cat will move in. Don't. Move. Eek!