King Pong
Large Graham and his art director Paul left work today. Will miss Graham's 6'9" frame looming at me from the desk opposite mine. Responsible for the table-tennis craze, (known as Pong Wars in the creative department) their leaving card was an enormous table tennis bat.
Unbelievably I went for yet another drink tonight in the works bar which was very busy tonight. Chatting to Hannah about life as a singleton, and I said goodbye to Paul and Graham and also Mandy who left today. The French Bloke miserable in the office upstairs, having to work late. Phil turned up too.
Home late again. The state of my house making me sigh.
Strangest of all the bits of mess was an enormous composter which I dragged indoors earlier in the week. I ordered a very small one about two months ago, in a rush of green blood to the head. Finally one was delivered this week. It is all wrong and I have no idea what to do with it, as it is the size of a small house. I suppose I could use it to turn my garden into a compost factory and fill the Twitten with an attractive aroma of rotting, worm-riddled vegetation.
It is all too much to contemplate. My brain is fried.
Paul and Large Graham play their final game of "pong".
Large Graham and his art director Paul left work today. Will miss Graham's 6'9" frame looming at me from the desk opposite mine. Responsible for the table-tennis craze, (known as Pong Wars in the creative department) their leaving card was an enormous table tennis bat.
Unbelievably I went for yet another drink tonight in the works bar which was very busy tonight. Chatting to Hannah about life as a singleton, and I said goodbye to Paul and Graham and also Mandy who left today. The French Bloke miserable in the office upstairs, having to work late. Phil turned up too.
Home late again. The state of my house making me sigh.
Strangest of all the bits of mess was an enormous composter which I dragged indoors earlier in the week. I ordered a very small one about two months ago, in a rush of green blood to the head. Finally one was delivered this week. It is all wrong and I have no idea what to do with it, as it is the size of a small house. I suppose I could use it to turn my garden into a compost factory and fill the Twitten with an attractive aroma of rotting, worm-riddled vegetation.
It is all too much to contemplate. My brain is fried.
Paul and Large Graham play their final game of "pong".
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