Convivial

Well, here's an idea for something different to perk the day up; pub lunch before work. A very nicely kept pint of Theakstons Old Peculier - breweries now back in the hands of the family so I can drink that tasty stuff with a clear conscience. Went to the Station Hotel which I was recommended years ago, and finally have gotten around to trying. Nice, unpretentious, excellently kept beer. Arrived at work more chilled out than usual, but then I did get there with plenty time to spare as I was in charge for my sins and like a nice buffer of time to get my head around what's going on in the world. Of course, nothing lasts, including chilled moods. Quite a stressy day, felt pressured by bosses not present; a feeling of "OK, lets look at this task from the point of view of how many ways they can kick my arse for it when it's over". Not an especially nice day from a professional point of view, and it didn't end especially well; not feeling especially loved there at the moment, nor do I feel people are being especially transparent. Can't be bothered with places where you're constantly twitching in between the shoulder blades, doesn't do morale a lot of good and frankly, my works hasn't got any. Right here, right now those books on changing careers I was given a few years ago are looking quite attractive again.

A pint in the Wheatsheaf on the way home as well, another recommendation. Not such a good one this time. No Blacksheep as I'd been promised. There's nothing acutally WRONG with the pub, other than the beer's a bit exy... it's nice enough. But it's all CREATED. Artificial. It's a plastic pub. A bit sterile. Don't think it's going to regularly feature in my life. At that end of town, the Tap and Spile's not got a lot to worry about*.

*Yes, I know that's a contradiction in terms and a Tap and Spile is equally created, but it seems to have been better done, know what I mean?

Supposed to be in London today, a friend's giving a presentation. You'll have noticed it's nine and I'm still up here. Bottom line is, money's short and I don't trust the car. The train company quoted me ninety six pounds for the cheapest day return they could do; that's just not going to happen at this end of the pay month. The car's got to make Scotland next month, and it's already going to have to be fettled heavilly before it can make it that far; two journeys like that I think is pushing the risk a bit far. Never liked unreliable cars; it was like this in the terminal days of the Mini and that just wasn't a lot of fun... still isn't. So as it's my day off, I'm going to stroll out with the camera somewhere and do something entertaining.

And speaking of days off, looks like my union want me to strike again. You'll remember I was a disgusting blacklegging scab last time this happened; my team had minimal union membership, and of that team I was the only considering action that I hadn't voted for. This time I'm not so sure. Must take readings from my senior colleagues. I know it's a days pay lost, but the prospect of a day in the pub is really very very attractive....