Just sitting here downloading some tunes. Bought a wonderful new wave/punk album this afternoon, so have been enjoying that mightily. It is the perfect antidote to seeing Take That last week. I feel absolutely robbed, seriously. They just oozed total apathy.
Anyway, another week at work over with. Apparently, there will be another 'update' about jobs next Wednesday, between 3pm and 5pm. Very considerate of them, especially as my shift finishes at 4pm. Added to that is the fact that I had planned a session with Madam Munchkin at 5pm, and have been forced to re-arrange for the following week. Crapola. The thought of 30 minutes flirting with her whilst in a semi-naked state was just about keeping me going. Instead, I have the prospect of listening to the sound of my redundancy galloping towards me.
Haven't been listening to my usual Radio Newcastle 'punk and new wave' show. Been doing a bit of hardcore hoovering instead - pulled both sofas out and dusted skirting boards. Think I need psychiatric help - who else does that sort of shit on a Saturday night? Ah, listening to a classic Sisters of Mercy track - 'Lucretia, My Reflection' - fantastic. I recall my friend at university had a bit of a 'thing' for the singer, Andrew Eldritch. He was an ugly chap. The singer of SOM, not my friend....for she was a girl, you see. Polly. From Derby. She got a first-class honours degree (compared to my diabolical 2:2), but has never actually done anything with it - apart from pop out three kids. Then again, I haven't 'done' anything with mine, other than get a shit job that has ground me down over a period of 14 (going on 15) years.
Went to Sainsbury's this afternoon. I was perusing the wine aisle, looking for Campo Viejo Rioja (they had none). I had only a solitary tub of cheese coleslaw in my basket when an announcement came over the speakers...'would the owner of car registration **** *** please make themselves known to the customer services desk'. Reader, I nearly shat my pants. For this was MY registration number. Fuck. I felt the blood draining from my face, then my lower limbs - what the fuck had happened??? I had visions of a partially-sighted pensioner bashing into my back end. I hurried along to the desk and told the assistant that it was my car. 'Oh', she said....'yes, a lady has just reported that you have left your radio on and it's really loud and she was concerned that you might wear out your battery.' Phew. I went out to the car - it was practically pulsating, I had the volume turned up that loud - the whole car park could hear 'Sex & Drugs & Rock and Roll' by Ian Dury & The Blockheads. And I had to limp a bit as I was in a spakka space too. Not good.
So tomorrow. A trip to Newcastle with Miss Underscore, possibly a croissant/scone will be involved and some browsing. Then on Monday, I am off to Walsall to run an assessment centre - can't fucking well wait. Redundancy? Please, please, please let me get what I want. Lord knows, it would be the first time.
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