We had nothing planned for today barring the inevitable patching up of those areas of paint that hadn't *quite* managed to remain solid with a single coat. No matter how hard I try I can never completely cover an area on the first attempt, except for that one abortive attempt to use 'Once' - or whatever that paint is called that is supposedly able to cover in one coat - paint so thick that you can hardly drag it out of the tin and with which the brush strokes dry in place to taunt you forever. Never again.
So I picked Nat up early from her place, set to with the roller and brush, and had everything finished early, leaving us time for a tasty visit to The Bar for a late lunch and pint, after which we headed Yorkshirewards to collect Blythe. Nat and Paul came with me, which made for a more interesting trip, with the time passing more quickly than usual owing to the excellent company.
Dinner was Thai noodles cooked by Blythe in her food tech class, and most excellent they were too. Even though at first sight I was convinced there wasn't enough for five people, the portion sizes proved to be spot on - those noodles with peanut sauce were very filling!
All in all, for a day in which nothing much really happened, I ended up feeling very relaxed, positive and happy, which after all is what holidays are all about innit?
Showing posts with label POETS day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label POETS day. Show all posts
Friday, March 27, 2009
Friday, December 19, 2008
POEBIS day
Traditionally Friday is POETS day. I guess it's just possible there's someone out there who doesn't know what the heck I'm going on about, so just for you: Piss Off Early, Tomorrow's Saturday.
Today I have an alternative slant on the tradition. Piss Off Early Because I'm Sick. Yes, with infinitely perfect timing, right before I take two weeks leave and with only 5 days left until Christmas, I've picked up a chest infection. Or an URTI to be more accurate. If I didn't have extra evidence I'd have to guess that I met the little blighter at one of the two Christmas dos I was at last Friday and Saturday, but since about three-quarters of Nikki's office are down with it too, I think we'll have to conclude it was this one.
So I've struggled manfully on (which by some strange coincidence I've just noticed is an anagram of man-flu-ly. Don't say a word) to finish the piece of work that absolutely had to be done today, and attend the voice conferences I absolutely had to attend, and now I've collapsed, panting, in a soggy, hacking, headachy heap here in front of my PC. The irony isn't lost on me. I wouldn't mind if the do had been especially brilliant, but had I known I'd contract lurgius expectorensis I'd have been more than happy to give it a miss.
Happy bloody Christmas. (Don't worry, I'll be better by then) (he bluffed)
Today I have an alternative slant on the tradition. Piss Off Early Because I'm Sick. Yes, with infinitely perfect timing, right before I take two weeks leave and with only 5 days left until Christmas, I've picked up a chest infection. Or an URTI to be more accurate. If I didn't have extra evidence I'd have to guess that I met the little blighter at one of the two Christmas dos I was at last Friday and Saturday, but since about three-quarters of Nikki's office are down with it too, I think we'll have to conclude it was this one.
So I've struggled manfully on (which by some strange coincidence I've just noticed is an anagram of man-flu-ly. Don't say a word) to finish the piece of work that absolutely had to be done today, and attend the voice conferences I absolutely had to attend, and now I've collapsed, panting, in a soggy, hacking, headachy heap here in front of my PC. The irony isn't lost on me. I wouldn't mind if the do had been especially brilliant, but had I known I'd contract lurgius expectorensis I'd have been more than happy to give it a miss.
Happy bloody Christmas. (Don't worry, I'll be better by then) (he bluffed)
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Tis the season to be merry - #1
No, I didn't mean jolly. Although I started off jolly as I left to drive into town yesterday morning just before lunch to meet up with an old team of mine for the first of several Christmas "dos", the last one of which won't take place until January 28th. Don't ask.
I had intended to catch the bus, thereby giving myself maximum flexibility to get bladdered or not, as the fancy took me, and depending on how the party panned out. You know how it is. Sometimes the sparks fly and you're really enjoying the mood, other times you can't wait to get home. A combination of another bitterly cold day and the probability of rain made me realise (a) I didn't really fancy the 20-minute walk from Piccadilly and (b) I wasn't really that bothered about having a lot to drink. That, and the fact that the restaurant I was heading for is surrounded by a multi-storey car park, meant the car was the obvious option.
This particular do was the "VME" Christmas party, so named because it's organised by, and ostensibly for, those people who are still working on VME. Many years ago, and for many years, I was one of those people. I still know a lot of them quite well, but more to the point their senior PA is also the lady who ran our office when 40 of us, followed shortly by another 40, branched out into the scary new world of Microsoft technologies a little over 12 years ago. That team is no longer together either, but since many of us came originally from the VME team, we share a history, and therefore a Christmas do. For most of us it's the only day of the year when we get together, because the majority of the original members (of either team) have moved to other companies, other parts of the same company, or retired, and even those who now work in the same building don't see each other very often owing to the overly paranoid security locks on all the internal doors, which admit staff only to the floor for their own department.
Today's meal took place at the modestly named "Glamorous" on Oldham Road, an establishment which I had visited on a couple of previous occasions and which can usually be guaranteed to provide mass catering on a huge scale and at extremely high quality.
Has it changed hands I wonder? Or chefs? Or is the credit crunch biting? I certainly don't remember the Christmas meal being this piss-poor in previous years. Two small scoops of chicken and sweetcorn soup, followed by some sad looking dim sum (paper wrapped prawns, spring rolls and ribs). OK, the ribs were excellent, but the rest didn't do much for me. Little did I know it was about to get worse.
Aromatic crispy duck was optional on the menu at an additional charge of £3.50, and owing to having a minimum requirement of two diners (per table), it had been left to us on the day to organise. Regular readers will know I'm an ardent lover of crispy duck. I'd be happy if that was the ONLY thing on the menu. So I was fortunate - I thought - to find four other duckophiles on my table. So we coughed up our £19.30 (10% service charge mandatory) and awaited our pancakes. 13 sad, cold, dry little pancakes between 5 of us. Two tiny plates of shredded leek and cucumber, and less than half a duck. Clearly, having left the ordering until the day, the restaurant had been caught on the hop by the popularity and run out. Instead of coming clean and saying "we've run out, sorry" they decided to fleece us of our £3.50s and spread what they had between all of us.
The mains were a disappointment too. No large, steaming bowl of rice for each table. No. A cold plate, with a handful of tepid rice (which was cold by the time the food was served).
That's another place to strike off my list of acceptable eateries at Christmas. But! All was not lost, for it's a truism that if the only thing you're going to a Christmas do for is the food, you're bound to be disappointed. The company is the thing! The craic! And boy, did we have some craic on our table.
After lunch we decanted to the Crown & Kettle for a pint. No offence, but what a dismal little hole this is. Sadly, what few sparks were flying at this party were extinguished as soon as we set foot through its dingy door onto its bare, dirty floorboards. I cracked an inward smile at the irony of the drink I ordered - a pint of Flat Cap - quaffed it as quickly as I could and beat a hasty retreat. Sincere apologies to those luvverly people I was sharing space with. Had the food been better, the watering hole more comfortable, and the weather warm enough to walk, I would have loved to stay longer. Next year, maybe?
I had intended to catch the bus, thereby giving myself maximum flexibility to get bladdered or not, as the fancy took me, and depending on how the party panned out. You know how it is. Sometimes the sparks fly and you're really enjoying the mood, other times you can't wait to get home. A combination of another bitterly cold day and the probability of rain made me realise (a) I didn't really fancy the 20-minute walk from Piccadilly and (b) I wasn't really that bothered about having a lot to drink. That, and the fact that the restaurant I was heading for is surrounded by a multi-storey car park, meant the car was the obvious option.
This particular do was the "VME" Christmas party, so named because it's organised by, and ostensibly for, those people who are still working on VME. Many years ago, and for many years, I was one of those people. I still know a lot of them quite well, but more to the point their senior PA is also the lady who ran our office when 40 of us, followed shortly by another 40, branched out into the scary new world of Microsoft technologies a little over 12 years ago. That team is no longer together either, but since many of us came originally from the VME team, we share a history, and therefore a Christmas do. For most of us it's the only day of the year when we get together, because the majority of the original members (of either team) have moved to other companies, other parts of the same company, or retired, and even those who now work in the same building don't see each other very often owing to the overly paranoid security locks on all the internal doors, which admit staff only to the floor for their own department.
Today's meal took place at the modestly named "Glamorous" on Oldham Road, an establishment which I had visited on a couple of previous occasions and which can usually be guaranteed to provide mass catering on a huge scale and at extremely high quality.Has it changed hands I wonder? Or chefs? Or is the credit crunch biting? I certainly don't remember the Christmas meal being this piss-poor in previous years. Two small scoops of chicken and sweetcorn soup, followed by some sad looking dim sum (paper wrapped prawns, spring rolls and ribs). OK, the ribs were excellent, but the rest didn't do much for me. Little did I know it was about to get worse.
Aromatic crispy duck was optional on the menu at an additional charge of £3.50, and owing to having a minimum requirement of two diners (per table), it had been left to us on the day to organise. Regular readers will know I'm an ardent lover of crispy duck. I'd be happy if that was the ONLY thing on the menu. So I was fortunate - I thought - to find four other duckophiles on my table. So we coughed up our £19.30 (10% service charge mandatory) and awaited our pancakes. 13 sad, cold, dry little pancakes between 5 of us. Two tiny plates of shredded leek and cucumber, and less than half a duck. Clearly, having left the ordering until the day, the restaurant had been caught on the hop by the popularity and run out. Instead of coming clean and saying "we've run out, sorry" they decided to fleece us of our £3.50s and spread what they had between all of us.
The mains were a disappointment too. No large, steaming bowl of rice for each table. No. A cold plate, with a handful of tepid rice (which was cold by the time the food was served).
That's another place to strike off my list of acceptable eateries at Christmas. But! All was not lost, for it's a truism that if the only thing you're going to a Christmas do for is the food, you're bound to be disappointed. The company is the thing! The craic! And boy, did we have some craic on our table.
After lunch we decanted to the Crown & Kettle for a pint. No offence, but what a dismal little hole this is. Sadly, what few sparks were flying at this party were extinguished as soon as we set foot through its dingy door onto its bare, dirty floorboards. I cracked an inward smile at the irony of the drink I ordered - a pint of Flat Cap - quaffed it as quickly as I could and beat a hasty retreat. Sincere apologies to those luvverly people I was sharing space with. Had the food been better, the watering hole more comfortable, and the weather warm enough to walk, I would have loved to stay longer. Next year, maybe?
Friday, March 23, 2007
POETS Day
In the English-speaking world Friday is universally known as POETS day, and for our bathroom fitters it's no different. They were out of here at 11.15. A short day, when all that was done was finish the boarding of the ceiling and the last bit of wall, install power for the underfloor heating, first-fix the plumbing for the bath and fetch the plasterer's supplies.
So no photos today, because apart from looking an awful lot tidier nothing much has changed. The room stands empty awaiting the hand of the master. Plasterers are always masters in my book. They can put a trowel-full of plaster on a wall and have it stay there (when I do it, it falls right off again); they can spread it out so that the surface is completely flat, square and plumb (when I do it, it resembles the surface of a swimming pool); and they can polish it so it looks like glass (when I do it, the trowel digs in and leaves holes everywhere).
Part of me thinks hey - they were here for about two hours. They could have made that time up yesterday and/or Wednesday and then the plasterer could have been busy working his magic all day today! But I can't really get excited about it. They're such nice guys, their work is of such a good standard and their price is unbeatable so I'm adopting a relaxed attitude to it all.
The tiles arrived today too (OK I know I said no photos but I thought you'd like to see them), so our worries that their trip from Portugal would be delayed and work held up were unfounded. They look every bit as nice in their little cardboard packets as they did in the showroom and I can't wait to see them on the floor and in the shower. We've opted not to have the walls tiled for now. We both agree a fully tiled bathroom looks too much like a public toilet and the debate was only ever whether to go for half-tiled walls or simply painted. The latter option gives us scope to change our minds later so that's what we went for.
Here's an attempt to give you a better idea what the colour of the tiles is like. Like a mottled mid-grey.
Now that the fitters have left and the front door is closed at last, I have to say it's noticeably warmer in the bathroom now the hole in the ceiling has been boarded over. The draft from the attic was quite severe. Once the heated towel rail and underfloor heating is installed it's going to be pretty cosy in there.
So no photos today, because apart from looking an awful lot tidier nothing much has changed. The room stands empty awaiting the hand of the master. Plasterers are always masters in my book. They can put a trowel-full of plaster on a wall and have it stay there (when I do it, it falls right off again); they can spread it out so that the surface is completely flat, square and plumb (when I do it, it resembles the surface of a swimming pool); and they can polish it so it looks like glass (when I do it, the trowel digs in and leaves holes everywhere).
Part of me thinks hey - they were here for about two hours. They could have made that time up yesterday and/or Wednesday and then the plasterer could have been busy working his magic all day today! But I can't really get excited about it. They're such nice guys, their work is of such a good standard and their price is unbeatable so I'm adopting a relaxed attitude to it all.
The tiles arrived today too (OK I know I said no photos but I thought you'd like to see them), so our worries that their trip from Portugal would be delayed and work held up were unfounded. They look every bit as nice in their little cardboard packets as they did in the showroom and I can't wait to see them on the floor and in the shower. We've opted not to have the walls tiled for now. We both agree a fully tiled bathroom looks too much like a public toilet and the debate was only ever whether to go for half-tiled walls or simply painted. The latter option gives us scope to change our minds later so that's what we went for.Here's an attempt to give you a better idea what the colour of the tiles is like. Like a mottled mid-grey.Now that the fitters have left and the front door is closed at last, I have to say it's noticeably warmer in the bathroom now the hole in the ceiling has been boarded over. The draft from the attic was quite severe. Once the heated towel rail and underfloor heating is installed it's going to be pretty cosy in there.
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