Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Tuesday November 28, 2006

On Tuesday October 17th, 2006, the National Trust encouraged people to record a diary of their day, making it "Britain's biggest blog". Simply for the fact that I didn't know about it, I didn't join in. I could have submitted an entry after the event but, true to form, I never got around to it. As it happened, I put an entry on here about Tuesday October 17th. That was the day I mingled with* lots of celebrities at the opening night of Spamalot.

So here are some things that caught my eye on Tuesday November 28th, instead:

0815 - 0900
Head to Camberwell for a meeting. Have the excitement of taking a new bus route. It's p*ssing down and the directions I printed are in serious danger of disintegrating. As the bus crawls through Denmark Hill I look out of the window and through a gap in the buildings. In spite of the low cloud and pouring rain I can see St. Paul's. At this point I realise that one of the things I enjoy most about living down here is the unexpected glimpses of landmarks. As I walk towards my meeting another example occurs: I turn a corner and this time Canary Wharf looms out of the mist.

0945-1030
Meeting over, I need to get a bus to London Bridge. On the way my attention is grabbed by two sights:


1. This shop. Now I know where to go to meet my bubble wrap needs. I felt a bit naughty when the guy appeared and saw me taking the picture. I hurriedly fled the scene and started trying to think of what I would say if he chased me and demanded to know what I was up to. It also appears that I have found out what Blinkhorn is doing in his retirement.




2. This shop. I just stood and stared at this for ages. Brilliant! Unless you can find some way of making the picture bigger, you'll have to take my word for it that on display are a sign saying 'BEWARE Caterpillars' and what appears to be the Wimbledon Ladies Trophy. Being too young for Steptoe & Son, I imagine that all of London once looked like this.




Another snatched glimpse of a London landmark from the upper deck of the bus: this time the London Eye.

1030
Turn on computer. Am saddened to learn the news that Alan 'Fluff' Freeman has died. Office colleagues don't know who he is so I do a 'Not 'arf!' impression. They still don't know who he is.

1215
This isn't the place to go into the reasons, but I need to find an example of a cover from a magazine. My initial google image search doesn't get me what I want. But it does help with something else. Do you ever forget how to measure vertical curves? I know I do. Well, here's the solution.

The rest of the day
Erm, nothing else of note. Had a very amusing chat with Gaz about a new idea for a blog entry. Continued my battle with the mice (one dead, one released far away, the war goes on). The electro thing was sent back yesterday to get a refund and today I tried using chocolate cookie in the humane trap.


*stared at

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Did you think that the world's biggest blog thing was a good idea then? I did at first but also "forgot" to contribute, then thought that anyone who would like to use it as a sociological research tool could just check normal blogs on a particular day in order to be more representative. Anyway I agree with your London comments. I always feel humbled when in the place and mystified by the Monopoly board reality. Grand place!

Lord G said...

That Gaz sounds like a clever fella. I just laughed out aloud at the image of you doing the fluff impression. Sad news though.

And yes, before either moon or frankie berates me yet further, I WILL blog soon, perhaps when I am released from prison.

Anonymous said...

the best thing i heard about the blogging day was someone in the Guardian saying: "when future generations look back to see what we did on that day, they'll probably think we spent the whole day blogging."

Anonymous said...

Love that second shop. It looks truly incredible... a menagerie of useless rubbish fit to clutter anyone's minimalistic home as long as you only buy one thing and mount it on the wall as art.