Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Erring like a human

In which Penelope makes a boo boo at the office. Quite a good one, actually. Best worst mistake ever. Cross author. Manager who is unconcerned - and I am not in any trouble at all - but am now extremely paranoid about contents pages. Just as well we're trying to get rid of said author - it seems that my boo boo may have helped us to do this.

Aside from that, work goes well. There has been a great deal of cake in the office and I embraced it with gusto. Made a bit of a mess, but anyway ... Most interesting thing to come up lately has been whether or not to try and stay once my ability to work runs out in November. This does not mean my limbs fall off, making it difficult for me to run rampant with my red pen, but rather that the one year working part of my visa runs out - should I try and see how long I can work before I am deported? Or ask work to sponsor me. Which they might. However, itchy feet suggest not athlete's foot but urge to go walkabout.

Have gone to a music festival, which seems to be the thing to do in England in summer. Given that I don't really like large groups of drunk people and mud combined, I had a spiffy time. Probably helped that it was a small festival at Dom's parents' place in Yorkshire, wasn't too wet and I got to spend most of Saturday making my favourite breakfast, Bloody Marys, at the bar. They sold well. Kruse and I drove up, forgetting the tent but remembering chocolate and beer. We called ahead and by the time we got there, Caro and Mel had found us a tent and put it up. When we took it down on the Sunday we discovered an extremely large carving knife underneath it. Odd.

I also had a Bounty icecream bar. Do we have these at home? It was rather good.

Em got engaged a few months back and so I met up with her, Dan and Conrad on Sunday for a few drinks and a trip down a slightly foggy memory lane as we dredged up our time at Canterbury over a few bottles. Once again we all learned the hard way that you should never have more bottles of wine than people present. Although, I actually felt pretty chipper yesterday - but found doing maths particularly difficult.

I feel obliged to share with everyone the title of one of our books: Meaningful Funerals. Just in case you were thinking of having one that was thoughtless.

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Dear God, what is that thing?

I seem to have the pox. Again.

And, hard to believe, but true, it's even more unattractive than usual. I look like I have been punched in the eye, with little blisters to top it off.

Apparently registering with the doctor who is right around the corner can only be done on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays between 11.30-12.30. No appointments can be made until you register. Of course not. So I went to a walk-in clinic and was soundly told off by a nurse for not having a stash of the prescription only drugs that I need so I could have already started taking them . . . was a rather bizarre conversation where she just got angrier and angrier and I became more and more confused - I have obviously been molly-coddled by the New Zealand medical people for far too long. Debated in my head about asking her if she was having a bad day and if so could she not take it out on pox-ridden Penelope but decided that it might not help matters.

Only good thing to come out of the encounter was a prescription and being weighed and not being horrified by the result. So I had some chocolate to celebrate.

It's such a pity that no one ever prescribes me an eye patch.