Birthday soon..

I’ll be 29 next Sunday.
Bloody hellfire.
I’m sure it’s only three days ago I was celebrating my 18th.
Maybe life is built on a slope that increases it’s gradient the further along you travel; therefore the older you get, the quicker the days race by.
Yes, that would explain a lot of things.
Philippa noticed I had a ‘stray grey eyebrow’ last night. She had a pair of tweezers in her hand before I could even breathe. I wouldn’t have minded, but we were kissing amorously at the time and she interrupted all that to preen me. When I tried to kiss her again she said “I can’t. Not until you’ve let me pluck that eyebrow” I can only assume that when I’m full of grey hair she’ll find me completely repulsive. 
I am, to be fair, rather melancholy today. I’m not depressed or stressed or angry or anxious, I’m just feeling slightly off. It might be tiredness, I suppose. Work are pushing me to do more and more around the store, and my little three-hour sessions in the office ‘doing paperwork’ have been cut down to 90 minutes because ‘the updated, upgraded computer systems should halve the time needed for your online tasks and ordering duties.’
Bastards.
On Friday I’m off to Cambridge for the day. Why the Hell we can’t be spoken to about ‘The Summer Range’ in our own store is beyond me. I asked if I could get the train down but there are five of us going so we’ll be sharing a ride in Graham’s people carrier. I can’t imagine anything worse than being driven 100 miles by my boss while his sycophantic employees fall over themselves to compliment him on his driving skills, choice of car and general wonderfulness.  I’m also pissed off that we’re expected to do a full day WHILE WE ARE THERE. So the amount of time sat on my arse in a purple Ford Galaxy will be unpaid overtime.
Bastards.

RC 9-1-13