Today I woke up to the start of something new. It wasn't the best of starts, though. Although a phone call was how I initially grabbed myself from my slumbers, and though that was more than just a little pleasant, I didn't actually manage to rise from the dead until later than planned. I had successfully woken up yesterday, in time to be "at work" plenty early. The "commute" involved walking from my ex-dining room (in which I was sleeping) to my soon-to-be-ex-study in which I had a desk and chair to work.
After yesterday's "throwing everything into the skip", which included the office furniture, I had worried that I'd have nowhere to work, but was saved from a day of sitting on the floor by the presence and hasty re-assembly of the dining table, which provided ample location for late-night-post-skip-filling curry.
So my morning commute was actually 2 feet. That not a figure of speech, it's a fairly accurate approximation, yet it took me an age to get into my chair.
I'll admit it. I worked for much of the day in my jimjams.
However, it wasn't the late start which somewhat spoiled the day, it was the doorbell ringing and a neighbour telling me that my skip was on fire. I went out to discover smoke rising from one of the bags. Had I been throwing out bombs? Incendiary devices? Chemicals that spontaneously combust?
More likely, someone had tossed a fag end into the skip.
I rushed into action - my buckets now also in the skip and out of action - and emptied 3 cafetieres of water on the offending bag, which I then removed from the skip to smoulder away from the rest of the now-promoted-to-tinder skip-contents.
Drama over.
Later skip news involved finding a couple of men scavenging in the skip as I went to lunch. They seemed unashamed. Really.
The only reason I was staying in Newcastle today was to do a day's work before coming home. Had I had a van, it would also have been to pack everything up before bringing it. This didn't prove necessary.
In the end, I had a long 5-hour drive home, which I did without stopping, passing go or collecting 200 pounds. Dull.
So the day ended with me tired, after starting with the skip on fire. Rock and roll!
After yesterday's "throwing everything into the skip", which included the office furniture, I had worried that I'd have nowhere to work, but was saved from a day of sitting on the floor by the presence and hasty re-assembly of the dining table, which provided ample location for late-night-post-skip-filling curry.
So my morning commute was actually 2 feet. That not a figure of speech, it's a fairly accurate approximation, yet it took me an age to get into my chair.
I'll admit it. I worked for much of the day in my jimjams.
However, it wasn't the late start which somewhat spoiled the day, it was the doorbell ringing and a neighbour telling me that my skip was on fire. I went out to discover smoke rising from one of the bags. Had I been throwing out bombs? Incendiary devices? Chemicals that spontaneously combust?
More likely, someone had tossed a fag end into the skip.
I rushed into action - my buckets now also in the skip and out of action - and emptied 3 cafetieres of water on the offending bag, which I then removed from the skip to smoulder away from the rest of the now-promoted-to-tinder skip-contents.
Drama over.
Later skip news involved finding a couple of men scavenging in the skip as I went to lunch. They seemed unashamed. Really.
The only reason I was staying in Newcastle today was to do a day's work before coming home. Had I had a van, it would also have been to pack everything up before bringing it. This didn't prove necessary.
In the end, I had a long 5-hour drive home, which I did without stopping, passing go or collecting 200 pounds. Dull.
So the day ended with me tired, after starting with the skip on fire. Rock and roll!
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