About the new office

So, we've been in the new place for two weeks, and I have to admit that I am settling in better than I expect. Telephones, fax and internet are working (took me three days to sort out all the complications), and we have been able to find nearly everything that we looked for. I won't mention the things that have gone missing since we moved in, that's just normal every-day incompetence.

Let me slip in a quick Public Service Announcement for those who might be planning an office in the near future. You might consider patterns of usage and how certain expensively-rented rooms stand empty for most of the day, and conclude that you can combine the meeting/conference space with the kitchen. Wrong. Doing so will mean either that you are unable to get a drink for hours on end, or that the conferees are continually disturbed by people sneaking in to put apple cores etc in the garbage bin. You may combine whatever else you wish, and good luck to you, but the office kitchen must be an enclosed room of its own.

It still annoys me that there are no stores in the immediate vicinity, and that the butcher and baker down the hill are closed at midday when one might wish them to be open, but even this is less of an irritation than I expected it to be. The farmers' market is in upheaval: a new market building is being erected closer to the street, and neighbouring apartment blocks torn down. Many traders have closed down or moved away, and it is hard to see that those who remain will be able to attract enough customers to stay in business.

I'm even coming to see advantages to the new place. FIrst of these, somewhat tongue-in-cheek: the uphill walk, in particular the last steeply-inclined five minutes, are going to get me fit (at least much fitter) doubleplusquickly. I'm a bit apprehensive about that stretch in winter though, since it's a "path" not a "street" and so will not be swept clear of snow or ice; have to wait and see how that plays out. It would be silly to have to take the bus to work (avoiding that stretch of hill), but it would be far sillier to slip and knock my teeth out.

Secondly, it is very nice (at least now, in summer) to have a garden with a large table and benches for holding outdoor meetings. There are at least two cats in the neighbourhood, both of them have discovered that our doors are usually open.

Postmortem

Harry: So this is the list of winners and losers, and the model photos. Which do you think won?
Udge: Well, G already told me that the winners were all groups of little pseudo-houses, so ...
(Looks at the models, considers carefully.)
Udge (pointing): Not this, but either this one or that.
Harry (grinning): Why "not this?"
Udge: Because it's ugly as shit.
Harry: That was the winner.
Udge: Bah.

Sunday, not in the park, without George

Not yet at least. If the weather holds fine, I shall walk down to the river this afternoon.

I bought a pair of pyjamas yesterday, the first that I've worn in thirty-three years if not longer (though I do wear a t-shirt in bed, and often socks, and in winter sometimes even long-johns). I got into the habit of sleeping naked when I was in Italy on a summer study session, learning how to drink alcohol and coffee and a few quite fascinating things about the human anatomy, and carried on until fairly recently. It was only after moving here that I started wearing t-shirts in bed, because of the miserably damp winters; they bothered me even more here than in London which is not known for aridity.

Interrupting myself for a moment: I have a Norman Stove*. The four burners and single oven are controlled by a total of six rotary knobs, and at least once a month I nearly burn the house down by turning the wrong one on. I've developed the habit of checking and counterchecking which burner is on, but this doesn't help when I turn the knob in the wrong direction, causing the water in the pot to boil away rapidly rather than simmering slowly—as I just did. The year is 2007 CE, nearly 2008. Why is this still so damned difficult? Do the people who make ovens never cook for themselves? Have they no wives or husbands or parents or children? Have they never even watched anyone cook anything? Or have they merely no commonsense? Bah.

So, yes: pyjamas. It was purely wonderful, I was toasty warm practically in the instant that I put them on cold from the drawer. Those were by far the best 30 Euros I've spent lately.

"Cold" being the operative word. The heating seems not to be working properly, apart from the living room = office and bathroom, the radiators appear not to be receiving any hot water from the boiler. I thought this might have been due to low water pressure, but having topped that up this morning I realize that it's not the case. Something is grievously wrong.

And how has your weekend been?

* Named for Donald A. Norman, useability expert and author of "The design of everyday things" (among other books), in which he discusses (among other things) the particularly egregious and all too common form of bad design that has come to be known as Norman doors: doors that cannot be opened by performing the visually-obvious operation. Things that don't work the way that their appearance indicates that they should, or whose appearance gives no clues to their workings, are now generically known as Norman Whatevers.