More Rollercoasters

I'm back again.

And back into the story:

Monday was sort of the same as Friday, only the weather was a little more bearable, and instead of three other blokes to work with it was just me and a South Londoner name Charlie working under the Gaffer (whom I later learned was basically the Administrator and Troubleshooter for the entire building).

Charlie looked like a hobbit, even more than Adamski, my much missed drumming friend, but he was a good bloke.

Anyways, before lunch it was all moving stuff from an abandoned office into a garage, which sounds simple but it actually involved the negotiation of various minor nightmares: taping stuff up so that it was stable enough to transport, getting it through the offices and tiny lifts to street level, getting in past a stupidly large Range-Rover that had been parked in the least convenient way possible (blocking off the top of the Garage) and then stacking the stuff in a way that it wasn't going to fall on some stunning sub-editor as she retrieved her Vespa at the end of the Day.

After Lunch: back to the top floor to count boxes, annotate the boxes counted, make new boxes to replace the ones that were falling apart, write the old descriptions on the new boxes and tape down the lids so that the evil secrets inside might never be disturbed (magazine expense accounts must be left to gather dust).

All the time shooting the shit with Charlie, who was doing a Foundation Course in Art focussing on photography, and engaging in some low level flirting with whatever pretty girl was walking past.

My landlady called to let me know that she didn't know when the new key would be delivered, and wanted to know if I would be working the next day. (At the end of the day I found out I wouldn't)

At the end of the day I spent more time flirting with the Receptionist, also an Temp and also an Australian. She was distractingly attractive and actually in possession of an MA in Information Systems. She was applying for jobs in that field, since she was sick of the crappy little reception jobs that she was getting.

I actually went home feeling kind of depressed...

I was once again leaving an environment with lots of social contract for the desolate wastes of Leytonstone once more, I would probably never get to talk to the pretty girls from that building again, since one of the functions of London is to keep the Moneyed and Attractive segregated from the ordinary and not-so-wealthy, and above all, I had no idea when the electricity problem would be fixed.

I did pull myself out of my self-pity long enough to buy tickets to the Mastodon show coming up and the Bleeding Through and Zao show on Friday. Back to the story:

So I stopped in at the net cafe to type my blog and check my mail etc. I was thinking of writing my review, but I procrastinated on it too long.

I got home to discover that the power was back on. After 4PM someone had come by to sort that out. Hooray!

I turned on the TV, sat dawn at the table and wrote a rough version of the review, which I have since Typed UP and sent to fasterlouder.com.au

I have no idea if they will like it, but it is done.

Today:

I woke up at seven thirty and went back to sleep. I've got to stop doing that. But I did have a nice dream while I was dozing. I got up just after three feeling happy, threw some towels in the wash.

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Gotta go