vindice

Um. My Godmother's funeral last Friday. She was only 56. This one cried like a brat in a pushchair through most of the service.

Back to work today, and apparently I missed a HUGE, ALL-DAY row between Martin and Jane, and now Jane's made a formal complaint. I hear such things get raised quite frequently against Martin (who is the twat mentioned in my last entry, by the way.) Furthemore I discover that I have been specially blocked from accessing a website called Red Hot Pawn. No, that's not a typo, it actually is a chess site I like to play on in my lunch hour.

I better get da job working for Artsfest, because I'm a nanny bit bored of current workplace and its snidey back biting, constant surveillance by HR and some RANDOM WOMAN from another department taking issue with me not wearing what she calls "proper work clothes."

If you think I'm miserable, I'm not really. The sun is high and if you walk through the grey paved streets of Selly Oak you can feel the heat rising up from the concrete. I'm determined not to stay another winter in Birmingham, so I'm up for a magnifique farewell summer.