Today I got so bored in the office that I did something drastic. I joined Twitter. Previously I had been of the opinion that only the hugely self important could justify this (as opposed to writing a blog, which is, um...self deprecating, witty and...????) But I was in dire straights having just spend hours formatting a stack of medical papers, only to discover they contained the wrong questions. So I thought - a problem shared is a problem solved, or halved or something. Why not share my boredom with the world. Enlighten other people's lives with my ennui. Tell all about my tedium. Make lists about my listlessness. Brag brag brag, blah blah blah.
I announced my arrival to this frightening, new arena with a simple statement. Erm. "Tweet tweet". Original.
Half an hour later I made a joke about a low flying uterus (I was deep into the Obstetrics papers by this point)
After lunch I decided that I could bring joy to a strangers life by broadcasting my preference for red grapes.
3 hours after my experiment started I decided to call it a day. Blessed relief, not just for me, I'm sure.
The winter that people have been making reference to for months has finally just about hit. While there are generally still a few hours of sun during the day, by 5 its getting dark and rather nippy. A recent pub night sitting shivering in jeans, a hoodie, and a large scarf, was rather too reminiscent of England. I also made the rather horrific discovery that I had only brought two pairs of socks with me. Both of which I found to be in need of washing. With the concept of mid week laundry a seemingly impassable hurdle, and unable to wear my fuggs to work (fake uggs/fat uglys) I made the wise choice to brave the weather in ballet pumps. The walk home was certainly different with completely numb feet. Luckily, a hole the size of a fifty pence piece in the sole meant that constant sharp jabs staved off the pins and needles. Small mercies.
So there was only one thing for it. Snuggling up in bed with a good book. Except that my kindle has decided that after 3 years of unwavering service it now fancies a rest. Or has just broken. So instead I took the obvious path, and raided the house's movie library. The discovery of a vast Disney collection threw me into paroxysms of delight. The hours flew buy - frost bitten toes long forgotten - and wrapped in a duvet for good measure. But, rather like gorging on junk food, what seemed like such a good idea at the time left me feeling maudlin, sick, and more than a little confused. I'm pretty sure that "Anastasia" is not a particularly correct historical portrayal of the outcome of the Russian royal family. And on discovery of a human baby, it seems more likely that Tarzan would have become dinner or some kind of chew toy at the very least, rather than the adopted son of a silverback.
I announced my arrival to this frightening, new arena with a simple statement. Erm. "Tweet tweet". Original.
Half an hour later I made a joke about a low flying uterus (I was deep into the Obstetrics papers by this point)
After lunch I decided that I could bring joy to a strangers life by broadcasting my preference for red grapes.
3 hours after my experiment started I decided to call it a day. Blessed relief, not just for me, I'm sure.
The winter that people have been making reference to for months has finally just about hit. While there are generally still a few hours of sun during the day, by 5 its getting dark and rather nippy. A recent pub night sitting shivering in jeans, a hoodie, and a large scarf, was rather too reminiscent of England. I also made the rather horrific discovery that I had only brought two pairs of socks with me. Both of which I found to be in need of washing. With the concept of mid week laundry a seemingly impassable hurdle, and unable to wear my fuggs to work (fake uggs/fat uglys) I made the wise choice to brave the weather in ballet pumps. The walk home was certainly different with completely numb feet. Luckily, a hole the size of a fifty pence piece in the sole meant that constant sharp jabs staved off the pins and needles. Small mercies.
So there was only one thing for it. Snuggling up in bed with a good book. Except that my kindle has decided that after 3 years of unwavering service it now fancies a rest. Or has just broken. So instead I took the obvious path, and raided the house's movie library. The discovery of a vast Disney collection threw me into paroxysms of delight. The hours flew buy - frost bitten toes long forgotten - and wrapped in a duvet for good measure. But, rather like gorging on junk food, what seemed like such a good idea at the time left me feeling maudlin, sick, and more than a little confused. I'm pretty sure that "Anastasia" is not a particularly correct historical portrayal of the outcome of the Russian royal family. And on discovery of a human baby, it seems more likely that Tarzan would have become dinner or some kind of chew toy at the very least, rather than the adopted son of a silverback.
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