Glorious sun. Yesterday I woke up in the morning and realised I was right and I enjoyed pointing this out to people during the day. Enjoyed work today. Snuck off at lunchtime to have my eyes tested for new reading glasses (occupational hazard of scribes). After the tests and people jetting puffs of air at my eyeballs I carefully chose a pair. The salesman said they didn't suit me and forced me to choose another pair which -- admittedly -- didn't tightly grip the sides of my skull.
Then a short nip down from King Street to the River where I liaised with Andy outside the Blue Anchor again for a swift half in the boiling sun. Back to work sheepishly rather late and we sat in an "inspiration" meeting in which Andy and I were right serveral times and ate chocolate biscuits. After work I joined several muckers who went back to the river. Had a top night out with the likes of Kate, Craig, Robbie and Matt. After working our way upstream like spawning salmon, we ended up under a full moon in the Black Lion where we entered the pub quiz. Robbie chose a name for us, which was the "Peter Kenny is always right" team. Naturally, being right, we won the quiz and I trousered the 26 quid and liberally bought pints for us and those on the next table who we'd been bantering with all night -- including Louise, who told us she was interested in breaking into the wonderful empire of junk.
Wrongness dawned on me this morning as I had to drag my somewhat hungover self into work early to compensate for the fact that in being right yesterday I'd done little actual work. Got in for 8 and slogged at a brochure on convergence technology without interruption for 5 hours. After this felt somewhat jaded and moped about eating curling sandwiches salvaged from some meeting or other.
Evening and dozens of agency types spilled outside and drank and chatted in the sun. The best part of agency life is the sudden bursts of good natured hanging about together. The social life is excellent. Chatted to Robbie who told me that, interestingly enough, he'd actually been right all day today. The baton had been passed.
However, the homing instinct kicked in along with the lovely prospect of not working for four days and I headed for home and a curry with Mrs Kenny. God, I will have to swim like fury to compensate for everything I've eaten and drunk in the last two days.
Still reading Robert Lowell on the train into work. He rocks.
Then a short nip down from King Street to the River where I liaised with Andy outside the Blue Anchor again for a swift half in the boiling sun. Back to work sheepishly rather late and we sat in an "inspiration" meeting in which Andy and I were right serveral times and ate chocolate biscuits. After work I joined several muckers who went back to the river. Had a top night out with the likes of Kate, Craig, Robbie and Matt. After working our way upstream like spawning salmon, we ended up under a full moon in the Black Lion where we entered the pub quiz. Robbie chose a name for us, which was the "Peter Kenny is always right" team. Naturally, being right, we won the quiz and I trousered the 26 quid and liberally bought pints for us and those on the next table who we'd been bantering with all night -- including Louise, who told us she was interested in breaking into the wonderful empire of junk.
Wrongness dawned on me this morning as I had to drag my somewhat hungover self into work early to compensate for the fact that in being right yesterday I'd done little actual work. Got in for 8 and slogged at a brochure on convergence technology without interruption for 5 hours. After this felt somewhat jaded and moped about eating curling sandwiches salvaged from some meeting or other.
Evening and dozens of agency types spilled outside and drank and chatted in the sun. The best part of agency life is the sudden bursts of good natured hanging about together. The social life is excellent. Chatted to Robbie who told me that, interestingly enough, he'd actually been right all day today. The baton had been passed.
However, the homing instinct kicked in along with the lovely prospect of not working for four days and I headed for home and a curry with Mrs Kenny. God, I will have to swim like fury to compensate for everything I've eaten and drunk in the last two days.
Still reading Robert Lowell on the train into work. He rocks.
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