I know I shouldn’t be poking fun of new people at work, but when someone asks you to tell them a little about your hobbies and interests so as to compose an introductory email about you that will subsequently be sent out to the entire team, maybe you should come up with something a little more exciting than listening to music, watching movies, eating out and travelling.
I mean, even if you like all of these things (as people do), give me something a bit more interesting. Mitten collecting, working in pyjamas, writing pornographic Harry Potter fanfic, anything.
I like listening to music, watching movies, eating out and travelling as much as the next person, new colleague. But let’s just assume that – in fact – everyone likes listening to music, watching movies, eating out and travelling.
So next time, let’s be more specific.
For example, I describe myself as enjoying the following things:
- medieval literature
- ashtanga yoga
- brutalist architecture
- craft beer
- fountain pens
- using semi-colons
- not using semi-colons
- coffee snobbery
- G&Ts in teapots
I also like mitten collecting and working in my pyjamas, for the record.
All day today it felt like Friday in the office. But it was Wednesday. Why was it Wednesday?
Two more days in the office and then I’m off for a week in the Essex countryside for Christmas. I’ve been feeling run down lately, so I was really looking forward to all this down time. But already I can tell that I’m going to get a bit restless. I’m never good at just sitting around doing nothing.
Plus, ongoing hip problems are ongoing. My GP is giving me the runaround. Even though I’ve been seeing an osteo for over half a year and have been told that I have SI joint dysfunction/hypermobile joints/a shortened right hip flexor, my GP wants me to go see his osteo to get a ‘definitive diagnosis’. Whatever. Next available appointment is in the new year. I love the NHS and all. But, man, do I hate the NHS.
Not cycling and taking a break from ashtanga – as everyone and their Great Aunt Mary advised me to do – has in fact left me in worse stead, so I’m back on the bike and back to waking up at 6am for a cold, dark start in the yoga studio before the rest of the world is even out of bed. Sometimes as I’m peddling up over Tower Bridge before dawn in the freezing winter rain with a white van man up my ass, I can see why outsiders might think I’m a bit of a psychopath for signing myself up for this willingly.
But it eases the tension, I swear. Just imagine what I’d be like without it. Yeah, yikes.
For fuck’s sake, why is it Wednesday.
Violent Femmes – Add It Up
This week seems to have dragged on and on. Nothing particularly noteworthy has happened at work to fill my days and occupy my professional mind. So while the days are getting shorter they just end up feeling longer. The weather’s getting wetter. All I find myself doing at 3pm on a Friday afternoon is wondering why it’s not beer o’clock yet.
I didn’t go to yoga this morning or cycle in to work. I woke up at 6am for yoga, and it was pissing it down outside. Then I woke up again at 8am (still pissing it down) to cycle to work and felt as if I’d somehow managed to sprain my ankle whilst sleeping. So I pulled on some boots and walked to the DLR. Surely this is a perfect opportunity to get some post-work brewskies – seeing as I’m not weighed down by the sober self-righteousness of bicycle commuting – but everyone seems to be out of the office today.
Tonight, beer o’clock will probably consist of me sitting on the couch, alone, drinking leftover Peronis from my 28th birthday straight from the bottle. Red has a work drink obligation. Damn him.
I guess I could always go to the pub myself. But I don’t think I want to hazard ending up like this guy.
Not a lot to write about, really. I’m fully aware that most of my recent blog posts are just duplications of instant message conversations I have with Alan at work that I find funny, which – more likely than not – are of no interest to anyone other than myself.
I suppose pleasing myself is paramount.
But I think of you, dear reader. Ever accommodating, me.
So what is there to write about? My day-to-day life is a bit boring; let’s be honest here.
- Wake up
- Drink coffee
- Argue with people at work
- Find funny shit on the internet
- Drink coffee
- Watch bad television
I used to cook a lot and originally did food blogging in this space. But, well, BORING. Instead, I’ve started drinking. And drinking? Now drinking is much more interesting. However the cooking+drinking thing is pretty much already taken. And – I could be wrong but – My Drunk Living Room probably wouldn’t be quite as entertaining.
Maybe I’ll just start interjecting lots of yiddish in my writing.
I’ve been posting a lot of conversations I have with my colleague Alan on this space. But that’s because my conversations with Alan at work tickle me and I just want to share them with the world. I swear I do other things in life other than talking to Alan.
Like eating. I eat a lot.
It’s 10 o’clock, and so far today I’ve consumed:
- Greek yogurt
- a banana
- peanut butter
- more coffee
And I’m still hungry.
I’ve been watching this really terrible television show imported from America that airs every day when I get home from work (before Red gets home so that he can’t make me feel bad about my bad television-watching habits, which he’s wont to do) on that new television channel for sad, old women* called I used to be fat. These fat teenagers give up their summers – usually consisting of about 90 days – to train every day with a personal trainer and drop the flab in fantastically bad-for-you weightloss times.
What I don’t understand is how all these fat people are doing so much exercise whilst simultaneously eating dinners consisting of what I can only assume is air and water.
I mean, I cycle to work and do yoga 3 mornings a week, and I find myself wanting to eat my own arm on a daily basis.
*called Really. Also airs shows like 16 and pregnant and Snog, Marry Avoid
Even more encouraging for habitual coffee consumers is the finding that those with caffeine tolerance have reduced likelihood that a fluid electrolyte imbalance will occur. The more regular your caffeine habit, the more fluid your body is conditioned to retain.
After sweating my way to the studio this morning on my bike, and sweating buckets during my practice (more than usual, oddly), I got to thinking. Should I curb my caffeine habit? Should I drink more electrolyte-filled beverages to make up for my lifestyle?
No way, man.
What I’ve taken away from partially reading this one, isolated article on the internet is –
I should drink MOOAAR COFFEE!
I’m loving living in Bermondsey.
This Saturday, stopping off at Maltby Street Market with my new bicycle (before heading off to Peckham to get it serviced – I wouldn’t have ridden it normally since the market is only 3 minutes away from my flat by foot…), made me realise why. Bermondsey, particularly the grass-roots Maltby Street Market, is like a little slice of San Francisco in London. Independent businesses have popped up shop in a (perhaps affectedly) haphazard way under the railway arches, selling their wares to lazy Saturday punters.
Picking up a piccolo from Monmouth, stopping off at Bea’s of Bloomsbury for some cake, enjoying the laid-back vibe with other in-the-know Londoners, I was struck by how much Bermondsey felt like Hayes Valley.
I love San Francisco. I love London.
It’s positively lovely here south of Tower Bridge.
As for cycling in London – I can’t believe I didn’t start sooner. It’s amazing. No transport costs. No late buses. No sweaty Tube. No delayed Jubilee line. Travel times nearly cut in half. Sure, I haven’t ridden in the rain yet, and the weather has been particularly beautiful for the last week that I’ve been the proud owner of a bicycle. But the fact that I don’t have to deal with buses, Tubes, sweat and other people makes me think I’ll be an all-weather cyclist for good.
Now all I need to do is learn to ride a fixie up some steep hills, and it really will be like San Francisco in London.
PS, I don’t own a fixie.