All the things I do instead of writing…
I have a backlog of posts describing the best holiday spots for family climbing (brief recap: Fontainebleau, Frankenjura, Costa Blanca, Peaks, Corsica), but like many other things, these potential gems of insight are stymied by their author's lack of application and pesky work commitments. So instead, here is a brief sojourn through what it means... Continue Reading →
I am 39 today. I always write my diary on my birthday, not that this is my diary. My actual diary contains even more boring diatribes about the various trivial frustrations of my life. Birthdays become a bit depressing past, say, 35. It's just a reminder that you've moved out of the "young" tickbox and... Continue Reading →
Recently, I have been late for absolutely everything, except of course work. I love that about myself - hopelessly unable to do things I actually want to do, but turn up on that 14th floor like a metronome to work in a job I hate. How stupid. Letting down people I care about, not doing... Continue Reading →
This whole Royal Wedding/ May Day bank holiday weekend has been quite strange. I enjoyed watching the wedding on Friday much more than I thought I would, and somewhat embarrassingly found it quite touching, particularly the Queen's somewhat melancholy facial expressions. On Saturday I bought a car. Spending quite so much money on a "thing"... Continue Reading →
I have for so long imagined little scenes in my life as they might have turned out, but as they never do for anyone, because everyone is reticent and risk averse - unless of course they're completely wasted and staggering around Covent Garden in London so drunk that they walk into a glass door at full pelt... Continue Reading →
I am watching The Red Shoes. I am quite drunk, because today I got my bonus numbers, my sister is starting a new job on Monday, and Tesco's was selling Lanson Rose at half price. Originally I was planning to open the second bottle in about half an hour, but then my sister went off... Continue Reading →
Every city probably has this divide on public transport. If you board at 8am, it's full of people rustling their papers, cumbersomely trying to sip a Starbucks at the same time, and looking amusingly bright eyed as they contemplate another day of spreadsheets. Get on at 6.45, and the carriage is filled with men in... Continue Reading →
I've still not got around to removing this blog from my Twitter feed, and consequently have stopped updating it; it seems incredibly vain to even vaguely assume that anyone I know would want to read my bored ramblings, so I started writing them somewhere completely anonymous instead. But I suppose now I'm just more bored... Continue Reading →
The resting writer 