More scabbing, plans flushed and whoops, no work to do
Well, seem to have managed to have been a strikebreaking blackleg without getting my bike trashed, my locker filled with turds or my life otherwise messed with. Mind you, the general feeling amongst the other union types that worked was one of guilt, and of not being sure we were doing the right thing. I think we'll have a few resignations from the union after this, maybe myself included to ease consciences. Nice to know there's still a moral or two around the place. We eased ourselves further by actually catching a proper crim' for a change on the late flight, would have been a shame if he'd have gone through on the nod if we'd not have been there. Mind you... the bike's covered in shite, but that's just a result of taking it on the dock... it's liberally covered in coal dust, made wet by the water they spray on the roads to stop it blowing everywhere. And I can't get to the jetwasher 'cause bloody Christine's still blocking the driveway. Grrrrrrrrr!!!!
Today seems to have gone a little pear shaped. I was supposed to be in London about now, at a presentation my old mate and shooting mentor is giving at the National Army Museum; haven't seen him in a couple of years since I moved up here. But with not getting home from work til midnight, being tired, and having to pack things for the morning, although I woke early, there was no way I was fit to ride, and by the time I was, it was too late to leave. Bugger. Anyway, I'm given to understand he'll be doing more and I'll get down for one of those, but this was a trip I was looking forward to for ages, I'm a little peeved that work, tiredness and crapness have conspired and knackered me. But in a gratuatous plug, here's his book, buy it, it's great*.
The good news is, I've checked with the boss and he says I can take the days as time off anyway - I'm well up on my hours for the year, so I can afford to lose a few. Which means, with scheduled rest days as well, I've got a big chunk of nothing to do. Which is nice. I'm tempted to have a little journeying. Was going to have some beers with Ipswich people when I'd finished in London, so I might well go and do that anyway. Only problem will be finding somewhere to watch the international rugby down there... a bit of a football town, that one. I don't mind getting a bunch of takeout ales from the pub and watching it at a mates, but I'd really prefer not to, not a lot of atmosphere. Unless you buy Adnams Broadside and eat steak, then you've got atmosphere you can cut with a knife... just for god's sake don't try to breathe it.
On top of that bit of potential happy travel good news thing, went to the quack's yesterday and he's cleared me to go back to the gym, which is nice. He's put me back on the meds I was on in December though, which is cobblers... "here, have a month of tablets to attempt to prove/disprove a theory someone's had, rather than us doing anything more dynamic to work out what or otherwise you've got wrong with you". And following current trendy practise, he's more interested in the fact that my cholesterol's up (it always has been, my diet's mega healthy) than the fact that my lungs are playing sillibuggers. But farting about aside, the good news is I can get back at the treadmill and weights and stop being a lardy wee fecker for a bit. Joy ! ! !
* - actually, it is!
Today seems to have gone a little pear shaped. I was supposed to be in London about now, at a presentation my old mate and shooting mentor is giving at the National Army Museum; haven't seen him in a couple of years since I moved up here. But with not getting home from work til midnight, being tired, and having to pack things for the morning, although I woke early, there was no way I was fit to ride, and by the time I was, it was too late to leave. Bugger. Anyway, I'm given to understand he'll be doing more and I'll get down for one of those, but this was a trip I was looking forward to for ages, I'm a little peeved that work, tiredness and crapness have conspired and knackered me. But in a gratuatous plug, here's his book, buy it, it's great*.
The good news is, I've checked with the boss and he says I can take the days as time off anyway - I'm well up on my hours for the year, so I can afford to lose a few. Which means, with scheduled rest days as well, I've got a big chunk of nothing to do. Which is nice. I'm tempted to have a little journeying. Was going to have some beers with Ipswich people when I'd finished in London, so I might well go and do that anyway. Only problem will be finding somewhere to watch the international rugby down there... a bit of a football town, that one. I don't mind getting a bunch of takeout ales from the pub and watching it at a mates, but I'd really prefer not to, not a lot of atmosphere. Unless you buy Adnams Broadside and eat steak, then you've got atmosphere you can cut with a knife... just for god's sake don't try to breathe it.
On top of that bit of potential happy travel good news thing, went to the quack's yesterday and he's cleared me to go back to the gym, which is nice. He's put me back on the meds I was on in December though, which is cobblers... "here, have a month of tablets to attempt to prove/disprove a theory someone's had, rather than us doing anything more dynamic to work out what or otherwise you've got wrong with you". And following current trendy practise, he's more interested in the fact that my cholesterol's up (it always has been, my diet's mega healthy) than the fact that my lungs are playing sillibuggers. But farting about aside, the good news is I can get back at the treadmill and weights and stop being a lardy wee fecker for a bit. Joy ! ! !
* - actually, it is!
posted by Fred the Singing Bandit at 12:34 pm
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