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Sep. 26th, 2004 07:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolSaturday.
ARTHUR: REMEMBER OLGREAVE!
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
endisforever: It's Orgreave you left-footed twit.
ARTHUR: We agree to talks.
My last update was on Friday, where I ran around wibbling from fear at personal statements. I finished the bitch and felt pleased with myself. It's not brilliant, but I feel like I have something to work with now. So I went to Guides. That was a joy and a half, especially since I picked up a half ratarsed Lyndsey on the way who sobered up rather quickly as she had, about three seconds earlier, recieved a kick to the face by steel-capped boots.
Weirdness.
And that was Guides. I came home and I went to bed because I am a wuss, and then I woke up and it was Saturday and I had to go to work. Well, I also had to drive. To work. He was late picking me up, and for the first time I drove away from the house. This would have been less of a problem if it wasn't for the fact I decided that it was a fabulous time to remember how to stall. Oh, the shame. I drove rather badly, and ended up in work late.
Not that it made a difference in my eight hour shift, which was as fun as it sounds. They have been shortages in the tills - either someone is nicking money (I know for a fact it's not me) or someone can't count change (which sounds much more like me). So to see who it is, we get assigned a till for the day and we have to stay on it. I was on till 1. This was fine at the beginning, because people were near enough to speak to, which made up for the fact my scanner only worked if you twisted it, thumped it or generally swore at it. Then more and more people left. Towards the end of the evening, I was on till 1 and Keith was on till 6. ARGH! I ended up talking to my scanner and felt slightly like C3PO.
"WORK! Come on! We've lasted seven hours, we can make the last one!"
"Bleeep sqeeeurkle bleep?"
I have also discovered that the worst book in the universe to read in your lunch hour is The Ragged Trousered Philanthropist. You get angry about the way you're desperate for overtime. Then you get angry for working as a 'producer of unnecessary things.' Finally, you end up hating the whole system and those who perpetuate it. A bad feeling when the supervisor abounds.
And that was my Saturday. Fun, wasn't it?
Sunday is today. Arthur has quietened down wonderfully, which hopefully means we won't need to call in the intermediary of the NHS, and who knows, maybe I can wear boots for C6! This makes me so happy you wouldn't all believe. I also slept in until midday and it is officially my first lie in for weeks. Wonderful. I would have preferred to be at training, but my grandmother descended upon the house. With my aunt. And also my baby cousin, Chloe. It was just as much fun as a meeting with that branch of the family normally is. Firstly, they have all put more weight on. This shouldn't be possible, but it is. Chloe looks as through she could bounce. So does Dot, for that matter. Chloe is sort of cute as she happily pads around and pets the dog but then she starts making noise and I can't be done with that. Conversation with my grandmother consisted of the following:
Nan: So, how's college?
Colleen: I've got four As and I'm going to university.
Dot: Well, YOU'RE the brainy freak, aren't you?
And that was about it.
I phoned Clare later on to bitch about the fact I couldn't get out to see her. Apparently Ron has died a death and now Wednesday is iffy. Not Fair, but there is the weekend to look forward to because OMGSQUEECONVENTION.
Oooh, I do like the Depeche Mode version of Personal Jesus. It really is identical to the Manson version...
Mum's just fallen over in the shower and her ankle is an unnatural colour. Dad is out without his mobile. I'm phoning a taxi; we're off to A+E. She is protesting that her ankle is just bruised - well, fine, but it shouldn't be as swollen as the ankle she just had surgery on so unless Dad walks through the door I'm going to phone for a taxi. I mean, honestly. How does she expect me to believe "it's just bruised" when she's sitting there unable to move and crying with pain?
~Hathy_Col - Dutiful And Bossy Daughter~
ARTHUR: REMEMBER OLGREAVE!
endisforever: It's Orgreave you left-footed twit.ARTHUR: We agree to talks.
My last update was on Friday, where I ran around wibbling from fear at personal statements. I finished the bitch and felt pleased with myself. It's not brilliant, but I feel like I have something to work with now. So I went to Guides. That was a joy and a half, especially since I picked up a half ratarsed Lyndsey on the way who sobered up rather quickly as she had, about three seconds earlier, recieved a kick to the face by steel-capped boots.
Weirdness.
And that was Guides. I came home and I went to bed because I am a wuss, and then I woke up and it was Saturday and I had to go to work. Well, I also had to drive. To work. He was late picking me up, and for the first time I drove away from the house. This would have been less of a problem if it wasn't for the fact I decided that it was a fabulous time to remember how to stall. Oh, the shame. I drove rather badly, and ended up in work late.
Not that it made a difference in my eight hour shift, which was as fun as it sounds. They have been shortages in the tills - either someone is nicking money (I know for a fact it's not me) or someone can't count change (which sounds much more like me). So to see who it is, we get assigned a till for the day and we have to stay on it. I was on till 1. This was fine at the beginning, because people were near enough to speak to, which made up for the fact my scanner only worked if you twisted it, thumped it or generally swore at it. Then more and more people left. Towards the end of the evening, I was on till 1 and Keith was on till 6. ARGH! I ended up talking to my scanner and felt slightly like C3PO.
"WORK! Come on! We've lasted seven hours, we can make the last one!"
"Bleeep sqeeeurkle bleep?"
I have also discovered that the worst book in the universe to read in your lunch hour is The Ragged Trousered Philanthropist. You get angry about the way you're desperate for overtime. Then you get angry for working as a 'producer of unnecessary things.' Finally, you end up hating the whole system and those who perpetuate it. A bad feeling when the supervisor abounds.
And that was my Saturday. Fun, wasn't it?
Sunday is today. Arthur has quietened down wonderfully, which hopefully means we won't need to call in the intermediary of the NHS, and who knows, maybe I can wear boots for C6! This makes me so happy you wouldn't all believe. I also slept in until midday and it is officially my first lie in for weeks. Wonderful. I would have preferred to be at training, but my grandmother descended upon the house. With my aunt. And also my baby cousin, Chloe. It was just as much fun as a meeting with that branch of the family normally is. Firstly, they have all put more weight on. This shouldn't be possible, but it is. Chloe looks as through she could bounce. So does Dot, for that matter. Chloe is sort of cute as she happily pads around and pets the dog but then she starts making noise and I can't be done with that. Conversation with my grandmother consisted of the following:
Nan: So, how's college?
Colleen: I've got four As and I'm going to university.
Dot: Well, YOU'RE the brainy freak, aren't you?
And that was about it.
I phoned Clare later on to bitch about the fact I couldn't get out to see her. Apparently Ron has died a death and now Wednesday is iffy. Not Fair, but there is the weekend to look forward to because OMGSQUEECONVENTION.
Oooh, I do like the Depeche Mode version of Personal Jesus. It really is identical to the Manson version...
Mum's just fallen over in the shower and her ankle is an unnatural colour. Dad is out without his mobile. I'm phoning a taxi; we're off to A+E. She is protesting that her ankle is just bruised - well, fine, but it shouldn't be as swollen as the ankle she just had surgery on so unless Dad walks through the door I'm going to phone for a taxi. I mean, honestly. How does she expect me to believe "it's just bruised" when she's sitting there unable to move and crying with pain?
~Hathy_Col - Dutiful And Bossy Daughter~
no subject
Date: 2004-09-26 12:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-27 05:42 am (UTC)ANDOHMYGODSQUEE.
That is all.
no subject
Date: 2004-09-26 03:16 pm (UTC)Ron died a death? When?
who is ron?
Date: 2004-09-26 03:35 pm (UTC)I saw a preview for a movie called Flight of the Phoenix, Miranda looks totally beautiful in it. My hubby goes "Oooh look Eowyn!"
Re: who is ron?
Date: 2004-09-27 05:52 am (UTC)More Arthur based fun coming up, don;t worry.
And I can;t wait for FLight Of The Phoenix!
Re: who is ron?
Date: 2004-09-28 08:50 pm (UTC)Then there was the red Mazda "Dodger" that could never stay in working order for longer than two weeks and was a magnet for every other car in the city to hit. Luckily I was only in it once when it got bumped.
I thought of you when I saw the preview.
no subject
Date: 2004-09-28 08:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-29 08:43 am (UTC)The icon is from when Mulder was teaching Scully how to hit the ball in The X-Files. :)