Is it really Thursday already?

Time is an abstract concept, we all know that, and my mate Professor Brian Cox hasn't helped much with all his mind-blowing information, however, where did the time go?

I do stuff, and mostly the stuff I do is little and quick, sometimes it can be middle sized and not so quick and sometimes small and not so quick.  The stuff I am doing right now is a biggie.  In value, and complexity, and I find myself having to revert to good old fashioned techniques, ones that can be dulled in the "fast moving consumer goods" world I tend to inhabit, and while there have been a few growing pains along the way, overall I have enjoyed having the time to really get stuck in, and have to think about deep stuff, and to engage with a number of troopers who I have never met, and probably never will. 
I also have one of those dratted deadlines, and am reminded of someone, it may have been Terry Pratchett but don't quote me, that said "I love deadlines, I love the wooshing sound they make as they fly past me".  This deadline is, as the name suggests, a line that crossing or not crossing (can never remember which one it is) will result in instant death.  It may not be to everyone's taste, but it focuses the mind.   And thus I am focused now.  Except for the little break to write this blog, obv.

Other news sees us venturing up North to visit Brad and Angelina, for a fun time, and also to plan our up-coming holiday the week after next (indeed, the week after my deadline, so another reason to hit the said deadline).  It will be fun, and I am very much looking forward to it, and with the weather being just fine, hopefully plenty of outdoor stuff to boot.

Building is still going.  We hit the tricky bit now where we are dependent on plasterers, chippies, sparkies and other neer-do-wells, and the project may well judder to a slower pace now, albeit the foreman will be running as tight a ship as he can in pursuit of the good deal.  We are water-proof now, and looking for first fix and windows to make it water-tight. 
Now, BadMan told me that week 11-12 is when you just wish they will leave.  He did a two-storey extension, and mine is single storey, so maybe it is OK that at week 6 I am having similar feelings.  In fact, I have a bit of a trough of disillusionment right now, and can only hope that time away from the pad will make my heart grow fonder.  Time will tell.

Until next time, adieu mon amigo.

It's all downhill from here

Since we are entering the season of televisual repeats, I fet it appropriate and easier to reuse a previous title for this blog.  But it does perfectly describe how Wednesday fits in to the working week; either the peak or the trough, depending on whether your glass is half full, half empty or you ordered it with a burger.  This does of course assume you are a five-day-a-week kind of chap (or chapess).  You may of course be a shift-worker, run a different on/off work routine (you know, the seven days on, three days off type of thing), or simply enjoy working at the weekends.  If you are any of these types of chaps (or chapesses), then please invent your own analogy for what Wednesday is in your routine.  Maybe send me a comment via the blog with your ideas.  Usual rules apply*.

Anyway, I am in the office four days this week, which means near enough four hour return trip, what with the weather and the traffic and all that.  This does wear me out slowly, but I do help make the journeys less boring with some interesting audio company.  Last week I was kept company by a number of podcasts on the old iWotsit, which included the Friday Night Comedy (Radio 4 I'm afraid), Mark Kermode and Simon Mayo's film review (five stars) and also, as a one off (or five off to be precise) the short-listed stories in the BBC National Short Story Award.  I have to say I enjoyed two of them greatly.  The art is in the fact that you need to have characterisation and story in a very short format, and that does tend to separate the men from the boys (or the women from the girls).  My two favourites were:

• My Daughter the Racist by Helen Oyeyemi
• Butcher's Perfume by Sarah Hall

I urge you to download all and make your own decisions.  Needless to say that the first and second prize went to two of the others, and on reflection, I quite liked both of those as well, but would have placed them below both of the above.

That's the problem with me and my book taste.  I like what I like and it tends to be a little bit lower brow than the stuff that really gets acclaim.  My sister is a librarian and an avid reader, and she often recommends books to me and, sadly, I rarely enjoy them as much as my own books.  And I know that on any absolute level (if such a thing exists), the books my sister recommends are "better" than those I enjoy, but then books are art, and art is subjective, so hey ho it's off to work we go.  At least that's what it says in the book I am reading right now**.

Also need to say thank you to Brad and Angelina.  We visited them at the weekend and had a lovely time.  It had meant to be a meet up with other friends also, whose aliases I have sadly forgotten, so let's call them Charles and Nigella, but C&N were both very ill, so it ended up being just the four of us, plus two maggots each.  The maggots disappeared upstairs, only to reappear for food, and to do their latest show, which, thanks to a CBBC show, was a magic show this time round.  The show followed the usual routine, with Brad and Angelina's maggot 1 compering the show, and generally acting as the glue to hold it all together, with various sets done by each of the children, except for the two youngest who, at the last minute, decide they don't want to do their slot after all.  I have to say, I really have no idea how they did it. 

I hope your week is going well.  Let's catch up before the weekend.

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* No swearing, don't let the truth stand in the way of a good story, just because you can doesn't mean you should (I am talking to the Labrador in the pub on Sunday when I say this), and there are two S's in to$$er.

** Actually, I am reading a thriller right now, but, as we often say, never let the truth stand in the way of a good story.  Have I said that already?