Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Whippied into a frenzy...

I mostly work remotely these days. It's great, because it means that I am closer to the kettle and the fridge and don't have to shave or wear clothes. It's a brave new world and one that isn't necessarily aesthetically pleasing. Occasionally, of course, I have to attend a meeting. Like today. I wasn't happy because we could have done the meeting, which was little more than a coffee and some inane chat, via telephone. So, to appease me, halfway through the meeting they bought me an ice cream from a passing ice cream man who slowed down near the office block, tooting his ice cream man's tune. The ice cream in question was a whippy 99, in case you're wondering. Poor ice cream men, I don't suppose they'll ever get the chance to work remotely. But I suppose they could go unshaven and naked if they fancied (best not to hang about outside the school gates if you do opt for that approach Mr Whippy). Going to the meeting meant that I lost two hours when I could have been writing the work that the meeting was about. Which is why I mostly work remotely these days.

Poor Hull City. They were well and truly Defoed last night against Tottingham Hotspurns. I didn't go - I listened to the game on the local BBC radio station whilst watching a live stream that was delayed by around five seconds. That's how I like my football. I'm sure everything will be alright when they get the Greek in and Jozy Altidore arrives. Oh. Dear.

And finally, and courtesy of M who pointed me towards it first, how lovely that Father Ted scribe Graham Linehan uses his celebrity power and huge twitter following for good rather than evil, driving #welovethenhs and other big conversations around the globe. He writes, brilliantly, about twitter and The Conversation that has resulted here.

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