Odds and Sods

I think we’ve jumped through September and October and woken up in the first week of November. It was dark at 6am, it poured with rain for three hours and today’s been windier than my bedroom after a full roast dinner and a cheesecake. This blog of mine seems to be littered with entries moaning about the weather, but really – the temperature in our garden on Sunday was 27 degrees Celsius, and today our neighbours fence blew down in a gale. It’s the tail end of Hurricane Dan, according to the chirpy blonde tart on the forecast. I never liked people called Dan. One of them stole my socks when I was at Sixth Form, and a lecturer at Uni with that name gave me two ‘C’ grades in one semester. Bastard.

I’m off to see Sophie in Edinburgh next week. Flying up on Tuesday, and coming back on Sunday. It should still be slightly summery, and I’ve avoided the over-inflation of prices that seems to coincide with the Festival and Tattoo, so it won’t cost me sixty-three pounds for a haggis. I’m still fighting the bureaucracy at work to have the time off, but as I’m on the brink of quitting anyway, the holiday is booked and that’s that. I might hire a car while I’m up there, as I’d like to venture further afield.

I still find it hard to believe I passed my driving test. All that reading, studying, reversing and arguing and suddenly I’m decreed safe to be on the road. Personally I think there’s something seriously wrong with the system.

RC 3-9-09