And its Friday . Which is a good thing. A very good thing.
Work has been a painful experience, with the technicians not going offshore until today. Things is it appears most technicians seem to have the mental age of four, and so it is like trying to work in a playschool; only more rowdy. Listening to them using Google Language tools to swear at each other. I thought the novelty would wear off after ten minutes; two hours later they were still going.
Sigh.
And then there was the course. Many of the technicians took part in a two day safety course, which was conducted in the office. Having a phone conversation whilst a lecture is going on is un uncomfortable experience. So, I worked from home a couple of days, which worked. I had some important conferences and I needed to be able to hear what was being said, and be able to input myself.
So, I worked from home, which means having to deal with the cats, but I can quiet them down with a bowl of kitty kibbles; if only I could do that with the guys in the office……..
The long, golden autumn has continued, the sunshine has been wonderful, although the days are cooler now. And the nights are downright chilly. The moon is waning now, and is at about a quarter with the new moon next Wednesday I think. And I hope to go out next week to snap shots of the milky way, for which dark skies are needed. That is for next week.
As is the Norwich Beer festival, which my friend Matt and I are heading up early on Tuesday to be there for the lunchtime session, and try some good beers. Beers!
Last night we headed out to Folkestone to see Eliza Carthy in concert. We arrived early and sat in the bar and watched the drug dealers in the street below, going about their business in clear view, selling baggies and pocketing money. They seemed happy. A group of women gathered in the doorway of a building opposite, one had a house broom, and they might have been watching out for the Feds. Or not. In time, we went into the auditorium for the show.
A single singer, armed with just an acoustic guitar struggled with the flu to entertain us; he did good, did not catch his name, but he is from Suffolk and has a rich baritone voice and I would see again. He did one song about werewolves which was very good. He left, checks were made, one two, one two, drums banged, guitars strummed, and finally the sound guy was happy and gave the thumbs up.
The band came on and played their hearts out. Eliza squeezed her squeeze box, played her guitar, played the violin with the skill of a classically trained musician. But then she was the child of two folk music greats. And she sang like an angel. An angel with a northern accent, but her wordplay is brilliant, and she clearly had so much fun in just playing. Which is more that can be said for the bassist, Ann Smith (I think) who had a look that would turn fresh milk the whole evening.
And then it ended, and we walked back to the car, headed home, and up on the cliffs at Capel, looking out over the Channel, the lights of France, from Boulogne all the way to Calais could be seen, so clear. Still takes the breath away.
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