I just can't...
30 July 2005 10:18![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mandragoraTake the pace.
Last weekend I was away, attending an absolutely superb barbecue. The hostess is one of my old university friends and she never did do anything by halves even then. There were canapes (which I ended up helping to prepare) and seven different types of salads and kebabs and skewers and steaks and sausages and vegetables and marinades. For fifty people. And then there was pudding. Five different puddings. As for the drink, well, it (and the canapes) was served by 3 girls hired from the village and it was superb. The strawberry vodka, in particular, was fabulous. I seem to remember drinking rather a lot of it... Stayed overnight as London was about 2 hours drive away. There was a whole houseful of guests (my friend and her husband live in a lovely old rectory that is huge - just as well given the number of guests). I was in the study. Blow-up bed was fine, but my feet were cold so I slept badly.
Breakfast the next day was the full cooked English, eaten outside. Was all very pleasant. The clearing-up post-party less so. As ever. When I got back home on Sunday evening was knackered.
Monday evening was spent doing a few necessary chores. Like washing. ironing and trying to mend collapsed drawer runner in wardrobe. Success rate on the latter was nil. The damn nail will *not* stay in the hole. I've tried glueing in matchsticks to make the hole smaller. Didn't work. Then tried wood filler. Ditto. Only thing I can think of now is nailing some dowling to the wardrobe side for the runner to rest on.
Tuesday was taken out to dinner at The Caprice, following postponement of the previously arranged date of 7 July. I had wondered how the host was able to get a table at such short notice - turns out that *he's* got the private number. And has promised to give it to me if I want a table there or at the similarly star-studded sister restaurant The Ivy. Michael Winner was on the table next to ours (rather disappointingly he behaved impeccably) and Jools Holland came over to say hello. To Michael Winner, not to us. Oh, Michael Winner was accompanied by very blonde, very thin and very good looking woman.
Wednesday night I went to a police station to advise a client who the Fraud Squad wanted to interview. The interview was arranged for 6.00pm. Time I finally crawled out of the police station? Quarter to midnight. I decided, in a public spirited sort of way, to get public transport home. Got the tube to Kings Cross, where I could pick up an overland WAGN train in lieu of the presently defunct Piccadilly Line. Public spirit abruptly evaporated when I found out that at that time of night I had to wait 40 minutes for the next train. Got a taxi home. In fact, though, that was cheaper than me waiting as I was on the clock until the moment I walked through my front door - we're entitled to charge for time spent travelling from the office and then back to the office if during working hours, but for the actual time it takes us to get home if it's night-time.
Spent some time chatting with various police officers. They're raking in the overtime at present, but are still all way behind on everyday policing and are letting people out on bail who they wouldn't normally due to lack of resources. I really don't know how long they're going to be able to keep this up without cracking.
Thursday went to court in the morning, propping up eyes with matchsticks. There was an office drinks party in the evening. The drink was... abundant. I also had an invitation to a birthday drinks do for a friend that was taking place just south-of-the-river. I had every intention of leaving the office do and nipping across London Bridge to the birthday drinks. Didn't make it - was incapacitated by a combination of drinks and tiredness, I think.
Friday morning was at court again. A reporter from the local rag was there and wanted to know my full name, presumably so she could quote my evocative and heart-rending plea in mitigation. *cough* There was also a photographer, which produced much anguished scarpering round the corner with t-shirt-pulled-over-head by various assorted court attendees. Must admit I giggled at the sight, as I did at clients' (had more than one) reaction to the happy news that the press was there. Anyway, I may be in the Ham 'n High today. Fame at last. (Actually, have already been in other papers on other cases).
Then off to a champagne bar and then L'Escargot for dinner - a joint birthday celebration. The food at L'Escargot was as good as ever, but they cocked up my dessert order and that of one of my friend's. We had to wait for ours so in the meantime were plied with a complimentary sorbet and glass of dessert wine, together with profuse apologies. Which is exactly how a restaurant should behave when they make a mistake, so as ever L'Escargot got it right. Mistakes happen and it's how you deal with them that counts.
Unfortunately, had a crappy journey home. I had to dash off before paying the bill to ensure I made it to Finsbury Park in time to pick up the sole WAGN train that stops at my station at that time of night - it's an hour's wait for the next one. Got to Finsbury Park with a reasonable 5 minutes to spare, only to discover (after I'd left the platform and tracked down a security guard so I could find out what the hell was going on, due to a dearth of useful information) that due to 'engineering works' all the trains had been re-timetabled for the weekend and mine was running 20 minutes later than it should. Couple that with the fact that the other branch to the line wasn't working at all and that people for that line would have to travel a couple of stops and then pick up a replacement bus and, well, when the train finally arrived it was carnage. The train was really too small for the number of passengers, but there wasn't another train due for 40 minutes so, somehow, everyone squeezed on. I'm still not certain how.
Now am waiting for latest episodes of SG1 and SGA to download and contemplating a trip to Homebase for DIY supplies. Am still knackered.
Last weekend I was away, attending an absolutely superb barbecue. The hostess is one of my old university friends and she never did do anything by halves even then. There were canapes (which I ended up helping to prepare) and seven different types of salads and kebabs and skewers and steaks and sausages and vegetables and marinades. For fifty people. And then there was pudding. Five different puddings. As for the drink, well, it (and the canapes) was served by 3 girls hired from the village and it was superb. The strawberry vodka, in particular, was fabulous. I seem to remember drinking rather a lot of it... Stayed overnight as London was about 2 hours drive away. There was a whole houseful of guests (my friend and her husband live in a lovely old rectory that is huge - just as well given the number of guests). I was in the study. Blow-up bed was fine, but my feet were cold so I slept badly.
Breakfast the next day was the full cooked English, eaten outside. Was all very pleasant. The clearing-up post-party less so. As ever. When I got back home on Sunday evening was knackered.
Monday evening was spent doing a few necessary chores. Like washing. ironing and trying to mend collapsed drawer runner in wardrobe. Success rate on the latter was nil. The damn nail will *not* stay in the hole. I've tried glueing in matchsticks to make the hole smaller. Didn't work. Then tried wood filler. Ditto. Only thing I can think of now is nailing some dowling to the wardrobe side for the runner to rest on.
Tuesday was taken out to dinner at The Caprice, following postponement of the previously arranged date of 7 July. I had wondered how the host was able to get a table at such short notice - turns out that *he's* got the private number. And has promised to give it to me if I want a table there or at the similarly star-studded sister restaurant The Ivy. Michael Winner was on the table next to ours (rather disappointingly he behaved impeccably) and Jools Holland came over to say hello. To Michael Winner, not to us. Oh, Michael Winner was accompanied by very blonde, very thin and very good looking woman.
Wednesday night I went to a police station to advise a client who the Fraud Squad wanted to interview. The interview was arranged for 6.00pm. Time I finally crawled out of the police station? Quarter to midnight. I decided, in a public spirited sort of way, to get public transport home. Got the tube to Kings Cross, where I could pick up an overland WAGN train in lieu of the presently defunct Piccadilly Line. Public spirit abruptly evaporated when I found out that at that time of night I had to wait 40 minutes for the next train. Got a taxi home. In fact, though, that was cheaper than me waiting as I was on the clock until the moment I walked through my front door - we're entitled to charge for time spent travelling from the office and then back to the office if during working hours, but for the actual time it takes us to get home if it's night-time.
Spent some time chatting with various police officers. They're raking in the overtime at present, but are still all way behind on everyday policing and are letting people out on bail who they wouldn't normally due to lack of resources. I really don't know how long they're going to be able to keep this up without cracking.
Thursday went to court in the morning, propping up eyes with matchsticks. There was an office drinks party in the evening. The drink was... abundant. I also had an invitation to a birthday drinks do for a friend that was taking place just south-of-the-river. I had every intention of leaving the office do and nipping across London Bridge to the birthday drinks. Didn't make it - was incapacitated by a combination of drinks and tiredness, I think.
Friday morning was at court again. A reporter from the local rag was there and wanted to know my full name, presumably so she could quote my evocative and heart-rending plea in mitigation. *cough* There was also a photographer, which produced much anguished scarpering round the corner with t-shirt-pulled-over-head by various assorted court attendees. Must admit I giggled at the sight, as I did at clients' (had more than one) reaction to the happy news that the press was there. Anyway, I may be in the Ham 'n High today. Fame at last. (Actually, have already been in other papers on other cases).
Then off to a champagne bar and then L'Escargot for dinner - a joint birthday celebration. The food at L'Escargot was as good as ever, but they cocked up my dessert order and that of one of my friend's. We had to wait for ours so in the meantime were plied with a complimentary sorbet and glass of dessert wine, together with profuse apologies. Which is exactly how a restaurant should behave when they make a mistake, so as ever L'Escargot got it right. Mistakes happen and it's how you deal with them that counts.
Unfortunately, had a crappy journey home. I had to dash off before paying the bill to ensure I made it to Finsbury Park in time to pick up the sole WAGN train that stops at my station at that time of night - it's an hour's wait for the next one. Got to Finsbury Park with a reasonable 5 minutes to spare, only to discover (after I'd left the platform and tracked down a security guard so I could find out what the hell was going on, due to a dearth of useful information) that due to 'engineering works' all the trains had been re-timetabled for the weekend and mine was running 20 minutes later than it should. Couple that with the fact that the other branch to the line wasn't working at all and that people for that line would have to travel a couple of stops and then pick up a replacement bus and, well, when the train finally arrived it was carnage. The train was really too small for the number of passengers, but there wasn't another train due for 40 minutes so, somehow, everyone squeezed on. I'm still not certain how.
Now am waiting for latest episodes of SG1 and SGA to download and contemplating a trip to Homebase for DIY supplies. Am still knackered.
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no subject
Date: 30 July 2005 14:52 (UTC)no subject
Date: 30 July 2005 15:55 (UTC)no subject
Date: 30 July 2005 18:13 (UTC)I miss London so very much - I enjoy your accounts of how things are going over there :)
no subject
Date: 30 July 2005 19:26 (UTC)no subject
Date: 31 July 2005 17:21 (UTC)I'm really sorry to read that you're having a rough time atm. Hugs to you.
no subject
Date: 31 July 2005 17:21 (UTC)no subject
Date: 31 July 2005 17:22 (UTC)no subject
Date: 31 July 2005 17:26 (UTC)You definitely need to take it easy, though, and make sure you rest until the feet and ankles go down as it sounds really nasty. Glad to read that you're going to be putting the enforced rest to such good use, though. I'm sure you'll enjoy the DVDs.
no subject
Date: 31 July 2005 22:10 (UTC)Fortunately for me, August is when my work slows down a fair bit (boss is off for a week, then away at a conference for most of the following week, then off again for two weeks), which means I may actually get through some of my precariously high To Do pile, and WITHOUT putting in ludicrous amounts of overtime.
I'm sure I will enjoy the DVD's too. I must say, once one gets over the mind-numbing boredom and works out how to use the computer and the TV remote while lying down with one's feet up, enforced rest is quite fun in a way.
no subject
Date: 1 August 2005 04:20 (UTC)Thank you. I'm going to enjoy myself vicariously through your social life, though. *g*
no subject
Date: 1 August 2005 20:09 (UTC)no subject
Date: 1 August 2005 20:13 (UTC)In my case, though, it's more that I've just started a new, large, fraud case and there's a lot of work to be done on it for a deadline looming in September.
I'm glad that you should be able to enjoy August, though. How're the legs and ankles doing?