jencat: (pushing daisies; windmillery)
On the plus side: through the wonders of LJ, a bargainous copy of my Night Train to Munich dvd is winging its way to me through the fantastically unreliable Royal Mail, so, yay!

On the downside: I leave work (if it's Tuesday, it must be parliament..) horrendously late and then inflict the horrors of a city branch of Tesco Metro on myself.  Get home even more horrendously late to be told that I need to get an updated copy of my CV ready by tomorrow for a friend of my dad's who's Very Important and Knows People.
Er... CV kinda hasn't been touched since '06.  And what I do at the moment doesn't exactly transcribe well into that format.  Also, had sooo many jobs at this point that the two page format is getting seriously stretched...

I think I've fixed it, to a point.  I'm also so tired I can't think straight, so the whole thing may be on a hiding to nothing...  we shall see.  Lots of downsizing fonts and adding the word 'celebrity' into previous job descriptions, because the worlds of private medicine and tax have been *so* very glamorous so far, I don't think. 
Although...I'm still chuffed I got to take a message from Ray Harryhausen once upon a time, who was absolutely lovely for the thirty seconds I was talking to him :o) And  I managed not to be all fangirly for the entire time, go me!

Ah, well, back to the grindstone/word document for me...
jencat: (chuck)
Ack.  And double Ack.

My Grand Plan has been thwarted a tad, methinks.  As in, my erstwhile employers have been stone cold silent and the temping agency I don't really want to work for has actually found me stuff.  And apparently I haven't lost my touch completely, as I've been almost-sorta booked to cover the same role week after next.

Of course, there's only so long I can only go around chanting about how I might not be able to do it, cos 'my *real* job' is gonna come calling any day now, before I look slightly silly.  And I think I hit that point around Monday morning already.  Rats.

So now I've taken the rest of the week off (which is a nice euphemism for 'I have no work to go to!!') and get to loll around for three days finishing up A Sword in Red Ice (which is gona take a while, as I'm about, er, 3 pages in so far, and lordy, it is dense) and making the review I started of The Poisoned Crown something approaching readable.  Le deadline being Friday, I don't really have any excuses not to as of yet.  Sure I'll find some along the way, but hey, early days yet.  And there's still a slight twinge when I think that Crown was the last in the trilogy: too much trauma with that and Deathly Hallows ending everything in the same year...!

I should also write some other stuff, really, all things considered.  I spent half my lunchbreak today trying to explain to my friend how I started the Victoriana wannabe going on ten years ago, and there's still huge chunks of stuff I don't know yet.  It all started to fall into place a little more after the reboot, but I'm still not sure if the world's ending for the reasons I think it's ending.  Which is pretty basic stuff, really.
I keep cutting through Savage Gardens on the way to Tower Hill tube in the hope of snagging some inspiration for my other poor little traumatised first person narrator, but it's not happening just yet.   Doesn't help that Savage Gardens isn't that picturesque and all. Trinity Square though... that has potential.  And a damn good view of some chandeliers through the ballroom windows.

 Tonight was the Leadenhall Market Christmas light ceremonial switching-on, which is pretty much the start of the seasonal stuff, and I already managed to nearly miss it! Got to see the Lord Mayor yet again (he has such a fabulous hat. Seriously. Tricorner and a multitude of black feathers, it's a total style statement.) and the lights were pretty, the free mulled wine not up to scratch this year (Marks & Spencers, come back, we miss you!) but the minced pies were warmed up this year and everything.  I had to earn mine by standing in the World's Worst Queue for fifteen minutes (it's basically queueing right across a crowded street, filled with people standing around drinking by the heaters so that everyone has to push through the queue to get anywhere else, and nobody can see where the queue begins... argh!).  Still, free mulled wine and stuff! 

Just waiting on the Frost Fair now in December, and it's the 400th anniversary this year of the original fairs they used to hold on the frozen Thames.  Not that you could freeze the Thames these days for love or money, but there's a nice little montage of how it used to be in the underpass on Bankside before you get there.  
It's actually right by Zakudia, the bar where the best xmas work party ever was held once upon a time.. We were just reminiscing about that today :o)
jencat: (hello)

As galling as it's been to spend most of the week working at the hospital directly across the Thames from where I should be working (and at approximately half the pay *chokes*), therein lies the part where I get to cross the Thames every day...

It sounds silly, but it's one of those things that make the commute even remotely interesting.  And much as I loved crossing London Bridge every day, with that built in view of Southwark Cathedral, and Tower Bridge, and  even the odd architecture of Cannon Street station, back on Westminster Bridge you get, like, all the proper tourist trappings too!

So far: a Scottish guy very enthusiastically busking with bagpipes, a saxophonist busking, about 6 stands selling caramelised peanuts (two of whom were having a light sabre duel yesterday...), three with hotdogs, and the pancake place I finally gave into today... plus, the sunset heading west down the Thames, the light reflecting off Westminster Palace just before sunset and someone playing an accordion in the tube subway.  Also, I've crashed about two dozen tourist's photos of Big Ben/The London Eye... I do, indeed, consider myself entertained this week.  Now I just need to make an escape before the med sec mindset gets too ingrained again... I'm still at the stage of being nice to patients even when they yell at me.  This, too, shall pass...

jencat: (pushing daisies; windmillery)

So the training finally ended on Friday with a wonderfully vague "we'll let you know".  At which point there was a strained silence from all of us who were kinda looking forward to, y'know, earning some money this side of Christmas.  So, none of the (previously promised) work this week, unlikely the week after, and not getting paid for the training until end of November... ::panics::  

I shall mainly be hitting some temp agencies next week, frelling up my tax code and not spending any money at all, whatsoever.  Ack. 
*deep breath*
Turns out the perfect antidote to wallowing in slightly pissed off self-pity was watching the Festival of Remembrance last night and the Cenotaph ceremony this morning... somehow I've managed not to catch them before.  And despite Andrew Motion muttering sulkily about the 'state sponsored cult of poppies' on a chat show today, it can't help but send a shiver down your spine when the shower of paper poppy petals starts falling--and keeps falling-- in the Albert Hall, one for each life lost. And the floor was just... carpeted.  It still somehow felt almost as raw a grief for WW1 as it is for anyone lost this week, and it keeps on going.


jencat: (Default)
Jennifer Howell

July 2015

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