In spite of arriving on the red-eye, I made the Jomsthing, attended the RSFG early meeting and visited AB in Winchester, so much nice to be with friends than colleagues... A packed Sunday with my brother and 3 different groups of friends in Abingdon. and Saturday lunch in London
with the 2 Paul's, where we visited the Tate Modern's audio sculpture and admired the fringe patterns as people gathered in front of the speakers.
3 job applications on the go at the moment.
I've not laughed so much for weeks!
More details at http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/4070973.stm
So to recap over the last 5 weeks, apart from the usual social whirl, I finally resigned from my hated job on the 1st of December, last day was the 10th. At last I'm sleeping properly again. Even after I'd told them, the disorganisation continued, and after a great evening with Graham the Cake-Eater and fiancee, I was still awake half the night worrying about the lack of planning for a conference in Daresbury. I kept telling myself I shouldn't worry how crap the company would come across, but my professionalism kept cutting in. In the event the week in Cheshire went OK, with the slight niggle that a new chap had just started who I'd happily have worked with. He had all the right ideas about planning, reviews and quality, so I warned him of the horrors to come, I wonder if he'll last...
I've applied for 3 jobs, all moving glacially slowly. For one the ex-MD offered to write a reference, which surprised me given my poor standing in the company, but the offer seemed genuine, so I might well accept. Better him than my French boss.
Evenings with friends like Joms and RSFG are restoring my equilbrium, and I'm even getting back into Badminton, playing L next week, which might save me from the tedium of cycling round and round the block to wear off the B&B flab.
Saturday's weather tempted me to walk from Charing Cross to Paddington across the parks, with detours to the Guards museum (a decent if poldding regimental one), the Australian War memorial just south of the Victoria monument, and the Princess Di fountain. Now I'd hoped to find someone selling t-shirts with the logo 'I've visited the fountain - and SURVIVED', but I was actually rather taken with it, as the water bubbles up and swirls down the troughs either side over varying terrain that creates lovely patterns in the water, especially the diamonds at the top. Access is a little restricted, but more to protect the grass than anything. Its just south of the Carriage Road bridge over the Serpentine, and well worth a detour.
I've been renovating my Planet Designer after years of neglect. It might not look much different, but could well come in multiple flavours of wizzy new languages, like C++...
As always being unemployed, the days vanish, 'streamlining' (smashing bookcases in a steel ISO container is so satisfying, but deafening), reducing the Kent book mountain, discovering that I'm less fit but more crafty at badminton than L, so hope for us both there, and discovering the delights of LDAP servers and other mysteries of the 21st century.
As I wandered the National Portrait Gallery on Friday, it struck me that it would make no difference if you swapped the captions round. You can't tell the politician from the fop, the general from the scientist by the rake of the chin or the gleam in the eyes, but authors are so keen to establish character through physiology. (An odd exception to this BTW, is that Nell Gwynn's portrait has a bit of pink aureole poking over the top of her dress, look out for it!)