Monday, January 03, 2005
It's strange being at work on a bank holiday. I feel cast adrift on this internet, with no fellow travellers for company. You're all eating cake, supping fortified wines and watching old films. Christ, is that the time? Really? The matinee won't even start for another three hours. Due to poverty and having to buy a bus pass to get to work, I arrived here even earlier than I needed to: 7.15 am.
I've finished my work too, more or less. Talk of being allowed out a bit early today - unfortunately, my idea of "early" is slightly more optimistic than everyone else's. I fear that in this case, "early" means "not late". What to do? What to do? I could start putting up those scattered notes I made over Christmas. In fact, that's what I'll do. I can't be bothered spinning them into stories, you can make your own up.
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I've finished my work too, more or less. Talk of being allowed out a bit early today - unfortunately, my idea of "early" is slightly more optimistic than everyone else's. I fear that in this case, "early" means "not late". What to do? What to do? I could start putting up those scattered notes I made over Christmas. In fact, that's what I'll do. I can't be bothered spinning them into stories, you can make your own up.
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