I Have Yet To Be Offered Any Rock ‘N’ Roll

A week of rather odd occurrences this time, which is rather a good job, as my work is hardly anything to write home about, unless you find printing out bar-codes and sticking them onto medical files fascinating.

Odd occurrence number one was a complete Hollywood moment: I was going up the escalator at Kings Cross when I suddenly realised that coming down the opposite escalator was Vicky from college, who I haven’t seen for two years. We even both said “Oh my God!” simultaneously, which may have freaked out the person stood behind me. We exchanged phone numbers, so I may have found someone to go and do all the London things I didn’t get round to doing while I was a student.

Odd occurrence number two is far less salubrious, and proves that I am indeed living in The Big City. On my way to work the other morning I was approached by a prostitute looking for early-morning work. At least, I think that’s what happened (my PSE lessons at school failed to include the module “Bartering With Whores”). She was lurking by the bus stop next to Finsbury Park, and said “You want business?” in an Eastern European accent as I passed. I probably should have corrected her (“No, no, if you’re doing the soliciting then surely you’re the one who wants business”), but, needless to say, I didn’t. Instead I smiled my Slightly Embarrassed Smile and said something like “Er…no thanks”, before heading off to the station.

For those who like to keep track of my Unknown Armies lifestyle (approx. 2% of my readership) I offer these snippets:

1) Who would leave bundles of the South African Times outside Manor House tube every so often, and what do they hope to gain by it?

2) That café-bar on Green Lanes. The one that always seems closed apart from big parties on some nights. Its address? 333 Green Lanes. Draw your own conclusions.

As this is probably going to be my last entry this year, I’d like to wish you all a Happy Christmas and a Most Interesting New Year…

A Means To An End

You will doubtless all be delighted to know that I now officially have work! I start at 1 PM today, at Beckton, the far end of the Docklands Light Railway (which is made of Lego). The only thing that concerns me is that I may only get the 25th, 26th, and the 1st as holidays. I’m really grateful for the job and everything, but taking away my Christmas seems a little harsh.

I’m also now able to think about siting down and planning my PhD proposal. Something about Mycenaean maritime strength and what it all meant. I could even call it “Stephen O’Brien’s Classic ‘The Decline Of Mycenaean Sea Power’ ”. But I probably won’t.

My Sister The Censor

Well, my sister tells me the good news: that she will, from January onwards be employed as a Film Classifier by the BBFC. She’s only allowed to do the job for five years, to prevent her becoming depraved by having to rate, say, Patch Adams II. She is, as Bjork would say “Very much dead chuffed”.

On another Blog, I was described as someone’s “Blogging Cohort”. I can’t help but feel that it sounds like an insult. Imagine the scene: the interior of a dodgy East-End pub. All of a sudden someone shouts “Oi, you blogging cohort, those videos you sold me don’t work!”