Met my pal Sue in line for the 50th Anniversary episode of Doctor Who at the movies.
"Not much happening in way of the blog," she mentioned. I agreed. There's been some progress of sorts, but I haven't had time to fill you in.
Right, let's see - in terms of the "travel to three countries I've never been before" objective - I've booked us a holiday in Greece in January - sort of celebrating d's birthday, though it won't be on the exact dates of that occasion. Flights booked, accommodation sorted, all good to go and groovy. Oh, insurance. Must sort out travel insurance...
So whatever one third of a tick is, consider it made on that one. A ti-?
Likewise on the "sleep in a treehouse" thing - booked a place at a treehouse near Bath, which happens in August.
The losing four stone malarkey continues to go in the wrong direction, and must obviously be addressed, as it's the gateway to a handful of other things that are on the list.
I did try to run a mile without dying a couple of weeks ago. Failed. Ran 600 metres before my heart was all kindsa "Are you kidding me with this shit?!"
Hmm...work to do. Back to the gym tomorrow.
Finally, thank the deeply unlikely gods, got past album four in the Floyd challenge. An odd thing happened then - albums five and six imported a big box of "tunes" from somewhere, so I sawed through those reasonably quickly and with minimal bloodloss from the ear. Just need to finish album seven and then I'm on to the allegedly seminal "Dark Side of the Moon".
Update:
Gone past Dark Side while not writing this blog. Now on Floyd album #8, Wish You Were Here.
Been talking to Sian by text this afternoon. She was going to do some demented marathon as one of her Beeblebrox tasks, but it turns out it's full for next year, so she's hit on an alternative.
Cheerleading.
"Erm...you do know you're not allowed to do sarcastic cheers...right?" I asked, tentatively.
"Oh bugger," she said. "Really?"
"Really," I assured her.
"Well, so much for that then..." she said.
The thing is, medical science has yet to find a bone in Sian's body that doesn't ooze sarcasm if you break it (and believe me, she's been testing the theory extensively, breaking many bones in pursuit of the idea of doing things because they're there. I maintain of course that because they're there is actually a reason to avoid the bejeesus out of some things...)
But the thing about this Beeblebrox challenge is that is hsould make us do some things we don't think we're capable of, or others don't think we're capable of, as well as all the stuff were foing cos we simply haven't got round to them yet.
So I reckon she should give it a go. Cheerleading kit, pom-poms, bunches, the whole deal. And enthusiastic cheers.
This is gonna be fuuuuuuun!
Sunday 24 November 2013
Tuesday 12 November 2013
The Bungee Avoidance Principle
For anyone reading my Beeblebrox List, expecting what Zaphod would undoubtedly describe as "excitement and adventure and Really Wild Things", it is probably somewhat noticeable that one thing utterly missing from the list is any kind of bungee jump.
Given that parasailing and effectively falling out of a plane are both on the list, it's probably self-evident that hurtling towards the potential doom and the certain hardness of the Earth is not the issue that prevents me from putting something like that on the list. It's more to do with the bounce. The rapid return to height, and having to do the fall practically a second time. It's going the wrong way, essentially, on which I'm not particularly keen.
Which is why today's news is all the more galling. Given that when I started on this Beeblebrox Year, I weighed in at 17st 10.25 and the goal of losing 3 stone (or 42 pounds - the delicious symmetry of which I've just realised this instant!) over 52 weeks, it's galling to report that as of today, with just 49 weeks to go, I weigh in at 18st 2.75! I'm going in the wrong direction!
That means I'm almost legitimised in saying I should lose 4 stone (56 pounds) in the space of the remaining 49 weeks. That'd take me down to 14 stone 2.75. Ah hell, let's be devils, and say I want to lose 4 stone 3 pounds, to take me down to 13 stone 13 lbs.
Damn, that sounds like a good achievement. Oooh...I've got to tell you, I've been particularly unmotivated on the weightloss goal for a while now - having reached a low of 14st 9. But the idea of going beyond that, of getting to see a 13...oooh, now that makes my fingers itch. That would be a thing to actually say. Right, sod it, let's do that. That's a tweak to the original goal. That still works out to be a weightloss of just 1.2 pounds per week. How hard can that be?? (Cynics and realists, chuckle darkly now...). But the thing is, with the bit between my teeth in any sort of proper manner...well...just stick around and watch what I can do...
I've also decided what two more slots on my List should be. I'm going to add "Learn to ride a real bike" and "Learn to swim, properly" to the equation.
I can swim now - have been able to for decades. But it's not a pretty thing. It's not so much an otter-like slipping through the water, more a kind of "not dying, but flailing" thing that leaves me gasping, red-faced, palpitational and about a few yards down the length of the pool. There's got to be someone who'll teach me how to actually do the thing properly.
As for bike-riding...ahem...I have the sort of sense of balance that can see me falling over just standing up. I've always had that sort of sense of balance - but now I think about it, since I went practically deaf in the right ear on February 12th this year, I've also suffered what's known as "a profound insult to the organ of balance". So, thinking about it, there's probably never been a worse time to try and learn to ride a bike than now. On the other hand, if I manage it now, just imagine how smug I'll feel...
The first and really only time I've tried to learn to ride a bike before now though, I was the victim not of my sense of balance though, but my own stupidity. My mother had bought me a bike, paying a friend of hers over the odds for what was a proper grown-up bike. It was, truth be told, far too big for me, and we lived in a first floor maisonette (oddly enough, as I do now). I decided that the thing that scared me about bike riding was...well...largely the "falling off". So, once I'd mastered the "not falling off" bit, everything should be fine. So I practiced not falling off. At home. Trying to achieve perfect balance on a stationary bike, under the stairs.
People, in fairness, did try to tell me about physics, and how much easier it was not to fall off if the bike was actually moving, but that seemed like errant foolishness to me, so I persevered with my not-falling-off practice. And kept falling off.
Eventually, when it became clear that I was never going to get the hang of it, the bike quietly disappeared from my life and I resolved to become a pedestrian, which I've remained to this day.
Now of course, maybe it's not possible. Maybe the insult to the organ of balance will actually stop me mastering the art of bike riding in my forties, as the insult to the organ of reason did in my teens. But I'm going to give it a go.
What else has happened since I wrote last? Oh, had a great email from my brother - discussion with whom spawned the so-far-most-loathsome of my challenges: the Pink Floyd marathon. He emailed me to say he'd been reading the blog (all views and shares gratefully received!), and felt an intervention was necessary. He admitted, in whispery email tones, that he'd never been much of a fan of Floyd's early stuff, and that I should probably jump in much later in the collected work.
Bless.
Much appreciated, this concession - as indeed was d's practical plea last Saturday: "You really have nothing to prove with this non-Starbucks year, you know!" But the thing is, I'm not actually doing any of these things for anyone else. I'm doing them for all sorts of reasons, not the least of which is to test out my stubborn-buggerness. If I've said I'll do a thing, how far am I prepared to go to keep my word? And what does that say about me? I'm not going to Starbucks, or any other chain coffee store, but a perfect example of how arbitrary the actual tasks on this list are came last Saturday. My mother had suggested a local Cardiff coffee shop where they probably wouldn't throw me out for wanting to sit there all day with a laptop. It's about...maybe 8 or 9 doors up from my favourite Starbucks. Has power. Had wifi. So, as my brother described it early on in this challenge, it's not really about the principle of the thing, it's about a change of venue. Except that on some madly meta level, it is about the principle of the thing....just probably not the principle people think it is. It's about the fact that I've said I'm going to do a thing. So I'm doing it.
That said, something struck me today, as indeed it struck me last Tuesday, just before I did my first "reading to children" session. Some of these challenges involve doing things I actively don't want to do. The Floydathon's the most trivial example of that. The reading to children scared the bejeesus out of me, though it turned out to be staggeringly rewarding. Oddly enough of course it no longer scares me (you watch them all be complete and utter bastards tomorrow morning!). I saw a poster today asking for volunteers to befriend people with physical or mental difficulties, and my stomach lurched. There's an action on my list that says "Volunteer to do something for charity, in a way that takes me out of my comfort zone".
Terrific...
The point about which of course is I'm rarely out of my comfort zone. I think that's what comfort zones are built for. To be comfortable in. Why people go on about going beyond those zones is a genuine mystery to me. But the way I've phrased the challenge means my initial instinct, which is to say "I'm sure I can help charities in better ways through application of my skills..." is not valid. I can do that too of course (given the time). But the idea of doing something that ACTIVELY puts me outside my comfort zone is pretty bloody scary.
Anyhow - as it crawls towards 2AM, it's time to get some sleep. Kids in the morning.
Given that parasailing and effectively falling out of a plane are both on the list, it's probably self-evident that hurtling towards the potential doom and the certain hardness of the Earth is not the issue that prevents me from putting something like that on the list. It's more to do with the bounce. The rapid return to height, and having to do the fall practically a second time. It's going the wrong way, essentially, on which I'm not particularly keen.
Which is why today's news is all the more galling. Given that when I started on this Beeblebrox Year, I weighed in at 17st 10.25 and the goal of losing 3 stone (or 42 pounds - the delicious symmetry of which I've just realised this instant!) over 52 weeks, it's galling to report that as of today, with just 49 weeks to go, I weigh in at 18st 2.75! I'm going in the wrong direction!
That means I'm almost legitimised in saying I should lose 4 stone (56 pounds) in the space of the remaining 49 weeks. That'd take me down to 14 stone 2.75. Ah hell, let's be devils, and say I want to lose 4 stone 3 pounds, to take me down to 13 stone 13 lbs.
Damn, that sounds like a good achievement. Oooh...I've got to tell you, I've been particularly unmotivated on the weightloss goal for a while now - having reached a low of 14st 9. But the idea of going beyond that, of getting to see a 13...oooh, now that makes my fingers itch. That would be a thing to actually say. Right, sod it, let's do that. That's a tweak to the original goal. That still works out to be a weightloss of just 1.2 pounds per week. How hard can that be?? (Cynics and realists, chuckle darkly now...). But the thing is, with the bit between my teeth in any sort of proper manner...well...just stick around and watch what I can do...
I've also decided what two more slots on my List should be. I'm going to add "Learn to ride a real bike" and "Learn to swim, properly" to the equation.
I can swim now - have been able to for decades. But it's not a pretty thing. It's not so much an otter-like slipping through the water, more a kind of "not dying, but flailing" thing that leaves me gasping, red-faced, palpitational and about a few yards down the length of the pool. There's got to be someone who'll teach me how to actually do the thing properly.
As for bike-riding...ahem...I have the sort of sense of balance that can see me falling over just standing up. I've always had that sort of sense of balance - but now I think about it, since I went practically deaf in the right ear on February 12th this year, I've also suffered what's known as "a profound insult to the organ of balance". So, thinking about it, there's probably never been a worse time to try and learn to ride a bike than now. On the other hand, if I manage it now, just imagine how smug I'll feel...
The first and really only time I've tried to learn to ride a bike before now though, I was the victim not of my sense of balance though, but my own stupidity. My mother had bought me a bike, paying a friend of hers over the odds for what was a proper grown-up bike. It was, truth be told, far too big for me, and we lived in a first floor maisonette (oddly enough, as I do now). I decided that the thing that scared me about bike riding was...well...largely the "falling off". So, once I'd mastered the "not falling off" bit, everything should be fine. So I practiced not falling off. At home. Trying to achieve perfect balance on a stationary bike, under the stairs.
People, in fairness, did try to tell me about physics, and how much easier it was not to fall off if the bike was actually moving, but that seemed like errant foolishness to me, so I persevered with my not-falling-off practice. And kept falling off.
Eventually, when it became clear that I was never going to get the hang of it, the bike quietly disappeared from my life and I resolved to become a pedestrian, which I've remained to this day.
Now of course, maybe it's not possible. Maybe the insult to the organ of balance will actually stop me mastering the art of bike riding in my forties, as the insult to the organ of reason did in my teens. But I'm going to give it a go.
What else has happened since I wrote last? Oh, had a great email from my brother - discussion with whom spawned the so-far-most-loathsome of my challenges: the Pink Floyd marathon. He emailed me to say he'd been reading the blog (all views and shares gratefully received!), and felt an intervention was necessary. He admitted, in whispery email tones, that he'd never been much of a fan of Floyd's early stuff, and that I should probably jump in much later in the collected work.
Bless.
Much appreciated, this concession - as indeed was d's practical plea last Saturday: "You really have nothing to prove with this non-Starbucks year, you know!" But the thing is, I'm not actually doing any of these things for anyone else. I'm doing them for all sorts of reasons, not the least of which is to test out my stubborn-buggerness. If I've said I'll do a thing, how far am I prepared to go to keep my word? And what does that say about me? I'm not going to Starbucks, or any other chain coffee store, but a perfect example of how arbitrary the actual tasks on this list are came last Saturday. My mother had suggested a local Cardiff coffee shop where they probably wouldn't throw me out for wanting to sit there all day with a laptop. It's about...maybe 8 or 9 doors up from my favourite Starbucks. Has power. Had wifi. So, as my brother described it early on in this challenge, it's not really about the principle of the thing, it's about a change of venue. Except that on some madly meta level, it is about the principle of the thing....just probably not the principle people think it is. It's about the fact that I've said I'm going to do a thing. So I'm doing it.
That said, something struck me today, as indeed it struck me last Tuesday, just before I did my first "reading to children" session. Some of these challenges involve doing things I actively don't want to do. The Floydathon's the most trivial example of that. The reading to children scared the bejeesus out of me, though it turned out to be staggeringly rewarding. Oddly enough of course it no longer scares me (you watch them all be complete and utter bastards tomorrow morning!). I saw a poster today asking for volunteers to befriend people with physical or mental difficulties, and my stomach lurched. There's an action on my list that says "Volunteer to do something for charity, in a way that takes me out of my comfort zone".
Terrific...
The point about which of course is I'm rarely out of my comfort zone. I think that's what comfort zones are built for. To be comfortable in. Why people go on about going beyond those zones is a genuine mystery to me. But the way I've phrased the challenge means my initial instinct, which is to say "I'm sure I can help charities in better ways through application of my skills..." is not valid. I can do that too of course (given the time). But the idea of doing something that ACTIVELY puts me outside my comfort zone is pretty bloody scary.
Anyhow - as it crawls towards 2AM, it's time to get some sleep. Kids in the morning.
Wednesday 6 November 2013
Read My Lips
So there we go. Number 8 - Read To Children was accomplished this morning when - along with a couple of other...well, oddballs, frankly...I walked into my own primary school, as a volunteer reader.
What this turned out to involve was not so much "Now listen and hark and attend to me, O My Best Beloved..." to a bunch of rapt-eyed ragamuffins, as around a campfire - not in fact, so much "reading to children" as "getting a procession of children, in a room, ro read to me, with occasional correction and explanation."
Bizarrely, given the pre-established facts that 1) I don't particularly like kids, and 2) they have an innate ability to make me freakin' nervous by their general unpredictability, I really enjoyed that. Hearing kids read - mainly 10 year olds today - at their difffering levels of ability, and offering an occasional steer, an occasional explanation (things like "detective" and in one particularly poignant, chair-shifting bit of mime, the word "perched") was staggeringly rewarding. In the words of comedian Mark Thomas, "I wanted to take them home...but...there's laws..."
So that'll become a regular bit of what Wednesdays are all about now, at least for a while.
Updates on a couple of other fronts - weighed in yesterday at 17st 11.75 - so, up two pounds from the week before, and a pound and a half from where I started! Humph...
Have just made enquiries by email about a local-ish dance class that I fancy taking, though as it happens I'm enquiring halfway through a term, so that might not happen till the new year. Unfortunately, classes are on a Wednesday night, which will class somewhat with any moves to rejoin the Dowlais Male Choir (who rehearse on Sunday and Wednesday nights). Good thing I have a year to get all this accomplished, really!
Yesterday was also a bit of a slap in the face in terms of the "support local coffee shops, rather than chains" objective too. Having sat in a local coffee shop most of Saturday and worked on the laptop, I went to do the same again, having plenty of work to get on with.
I was halfway through my first latte, when a member of staff came up to me.
"I've been asked to tell you you can't stay here," she said.
"What?" I asked, somewhat frothily.
"With the laptop. Can't stay here all day with the laptop. People need the table," she explained.
I looked around - the place was half empty. It wasn't like I was freeloading - I tend to spend around £20 a day on coffee, if not more, during these days of working.
"Then people can have the table," I said, packing up, downing a latte with all the dignity I could muster (ever tried downing a hot frothy latte in one? Not advisable if you want to stand on your dignity and stalk out, let me tell you. Learn from me).
So that's that option knackered. There are still a couple of local coffee shops to try - one has free wifi and couches and an apparent invitation to stay all day, but unfortunately, they have absolutely lousy coffee. The other has good coffee, but I have yet to test their patience with people who want to stay and work and drink a lot of coffee, being all impertinently...present, and so on. Might give them a try later this week or early next. The point, I think, being that in my imaginary hair-flicking piety and good causiness, it didn't ever occur to me that maybe local coffee shops wouldn't want to be supported by an allegedly recovering Starbucks addict. Humph...
Oh and the Floydathon continues. Album 3 done, so I'm a tenth of the way to the finish line on that one. Of course, just when you think you might be making progress, they slap a double live album in your way. Floyd #4 is called Ummagumma, and is basically all the longest and most tedious bits of the first three albums, played live, along with a couple of new tracks, each of which have at least three parts to them. Shoot me. Shoot me now...
What this turned out to involve was not so much "Now listen and hark and attend to me, O My Best Beloved..." to a bunch of rapt-eyed ragamuffins, as around a campfire - not in fact, so much "reading to children" as "getting a procession of children, in a room, ro read to me, with occasional correction and explanation."
Bizarrely, given the pre-established facts that 1) I don't particularly like kids, and 2) they have an innate ability to make me freakin' nervous by their general unpredictability, I really enjoyed that. Hearing kids read - mainly 10 year olds today - at their difffering levels of ability, and offering an occasional steer, an occasional explanation (things like "detective" and in one particularly poignant, chair-shifting bit of mime, the word "perched") was staggeringly rewarding. In the words of comedian Mark Thomas, "I wanted to take them home...but...there's laws..."
So that'll become a regular bit of what Wednesdays are all about now, at least for a while.
Updates on a couple of other fronts - weighed in yesterday at 17st 11.75 - so, up two pounds from the week before, and a pound and a half from where I started! Humph...
Have just made enquiries by email about a local-ish dance class that I fancy taking, though as it happens I'm enquiring halfway through a term, so that might not happen till the new year. Unfortunately, classes are on a Wednesday night, which will class somewhat with any moves to rejoin the Dowlais Male Choir (who rehearse on Sunday and Wednesday nights). Good thing I have a year to get all this accomplished, really!
Yesterday was also a bit of a slap in the face in terms of the "support local coffee shops, rather than chains" objective too. Having sat in a local coffee shop most of Saturday and worked on the laptop, I went to do the same again, having plenty of work to get on with.
I was halfway through my first latte, when a member of staff came up to me.
"I've been asked to tell you you can't stay here," she said.
"What?" I asked, somewhat frothily.
"With the laptop. Can't stay here all day with the laptop. People need the table," she explained.
I looked around - the place was half empty. It wasn't like I was freeloading - I tend to spend around £20 a day on coffee, if not more, during these days of working.
"Then people can have the table," I said, packing up, downing a latte with all the dignity I could muster (ever tried downing a hot frothy latte in one? Not advisable if you want to stand on your dignity and stalk out, let me tell you. Learn from me).
So that's that option knackered. There are still a couple of local coffee shops to try - one has free wifi and couches and an apparent invitation to stay all day, but unfortunately, they have absolutely lousy coffee. The other has good coffee, but I have yet to test their patience with people who want to stay and work and drink a lot of coffee, being all impertinently...present, and so on. Might give them a try later this week or early next. The point, I think, being that in my imaginary hair-flicking piety and good causiness, it didn't ever occur to me that maybe local coffee shops wouldn't want to be supported by an allegedly recovering Starbucks addict. Humph...
Oh and the Floydathon continues. Album 3 done, so I'm a tenth of the way to the finish line on that one. Of course, just when you think you might be making progress, they slap a double live album in your way. Floyd #4 is called Ummagumma, and is basically all the longest and most tedious bits of the first three albums, played live, along with a couple of new tracks, each of which have at least three parts to them. Shoot me. Shoot me now...
Monday 4 November 2013
The Blood Donor
Well now...
Today was going to be the day I made my first attempt at #19, run a mile without dying. Ma and I got to the gym, sauntered to the reception desk.
"Sorry, we're closed," said the young woman behind the desk.
"What?" we said in unison.
"Burst pipe," she said. "Sorry..."
So - bugger. Am going to go back tomorrow on my own, and if the pipes are less burst, have a go at that one.
Underlined the achievement of a return to blood donation today, by...erm...actually going to get the blood sucked out of me. Job done.
Moving closer to the reading to children thing too - Meeting at a local school, in fact the primary school I attended back in the middle ages, on Wednesday morning to see how it's done, and then presumably to do it.
Currently listening to my third Floyd album. Moving ever closer to my original assertion that life's too short to listen to Pink Floyd.
And have realised that somewhere along the line, Sian's stolen a march on me, by filling in the last of her challenges - she now has her full 42, whereas I'm still only on 33. Will have to give this some serious thought soon.
Along with making arrangements to get some of my items crossed off - dance classes, golfing, treehouse, all that sort of malarkey.
Going to be moderately unhappy tomorrow morning, I predict - in my quest to lose 3 stone from my starting weight of 17st 10.25, I have a distinct feeling tomorrow I may record a weight that's radically in the wrong direction. May see 18 stone tomorrow. Unff...must get a grip.
Today was going to be the day I made my first attempt at #19, run a mile without dying. Ma and I got to the gym, sauntered to the reception desk.
"Sorry, we're closed," said the young woman behind the desk.
"What?" we said in unison.
"Burst pipe," she said. "Sorry..."
So - bugger. Am going to go back tomorrow on my own, and if the pipes are less burst, have a go at that one.
Underlined the achievement of a return to blood donation today, by...erm...actually going to get the blood sucked out of me. Job done.
Moving closer to the reading to children thing too - Meeting at a local school, in fact the primary school I attended back in the middle ages, on Wednesday morning to see how it's done, and then presumably to do it.
Currently listening to my third Floyd album. Moving ever closer to my original assertion that life's too short to listen to Pink Floyd.
And have realised that somewhere along the line, Sian's stolen a march on me, by filling in the last of her challenges - she now has her full 42, whereas I'm still only on 33. Will have to give this some serious thought soon.
Along with making arrangements to get some of my items crossed off - dance classes, golfing, treehouse, all that sort of malarkey.
Going to be moderately unhappy tomorrow morning, I predict - in my quest to lose 3 stone from my starting weight of 17st 10.25, I have a distinct feeling tomorrow I may record a weight that's radically in the wrong direction. May see 18 stone tomorrow. Unff...must get a grip.
Friday 1 November 2013
Trick? Or Treat?
Sooooo, yesterday was Hallowe'en. Had a piece of post yesterday that I didn't get around to opening till today. My extended Criminal Records Bureau Check has finally come back - clean, I should add, before you get sarky.
What that means is that I can progress my plan to read to children: there's a local printer here who runs a service where volunteers go into local schools and do precisely that. I'm going to apply to be tht sort of volunteer.
Why?
I'm not entirely sure - can't stand kids at the best of times, to be perfectly honest. Probably because I find it utterly terrifying, I suppose. And of course if it helps get kids interested in reading something beyond the extent of their ASBOs in later life, it can't be bad.
Went for a "business breakfast" this morning. Think the Freemasons with rigorously firm but entirely unfunny handshakes. Not entirely sure what the point of that was, at 6.30 in the morning, but I think it's something to do with expanding my business into new, local, corporate dimensions, which is sort of cute, but when you've sat in an office in South Wales doing work for clients all over the world already, you sort of wonder what you're doing the local stuff for.
Oh, wait - money! That'll be it...
Listening to the second Floyd album as I type this. Clearly in the intervening year, they'd straightened up a bit and thought "Holy shit, people are buying this stuff. Maybe we should...I dunno...throw a couple of tune into the mix or something..." By the end of this evening, I'll be one whole fifteenth of the way through the Floyd Challenge.
And Monday I give blood, so I'll be able to cross that off the list. Must enquire about learning a new language soon...
What that means is that I can progress my plan to read to children: there's a local printer here who runs a service where volunteers go into local schools and do precisely that. I'm going to apply to be tht sort of volunteer.
Why?
I'm not entirely sure - can't stand kids at the best of times, to be perfectly honest. Probably because I find it utterly terrifying, I suppose. And of course if it helps get kids interested in reading something beyond the extent of their ASBOs in later life, it can't be bad.
Went for a "business breakfast" this morning. Think the Freemasons with rigorously firm but entirely unfunny handshakes. Not entirely sure what the point of that was, at 6.30 in the morning, but I think it's something to do with expanding my business into new, local, corporate dimensions, which is sort of cute, but when you've sat in an office in South Wales doing work for clients all over the world already, you sort of wonder what you're doing the local stuff for.
Oh, wait - money! That'll be it...
Listening to the second Floyd album as I type this. Clearly in the intervening year, they'd straightened up a bit and thought "Holy shit, people are buying this stuff. Maybe we should...I dunno...throw a couple of tune into the mix or something..." By the end of this evening, I'll be one whole fifteenth of the way through the Floyd Challenge.
And Monday I give blood, so I'll be able to cross that off the list. Must enquire about learning a new language soon...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)