Back to work - virtually

Pic caption: Me getting frustrated with telecoms companies. (picture posed by model)




I'm currently spending my time running between the new flat which resembles the warehouse at the end of Raiders Of The Lost Ark (not for size obviously, but the number of boxes), and places like the Watershed and The Prom on Gloucester Road, where they have free wi-fi and I can at least do a bit of work.
Apparently, according to Orange, it can take anything between seven and fifteen days to flick a switch somewhere in cyber space that allows me to be online at home.
I am staggered that in an age where a couple of astronauts can take a socket set up into space to change a tyre on the Hubble telescope, or whatever they did, that it has to take so long to transfer your broadband, with the same company, from one phone line to another.
Still, musn't grumble. Although I do enjoy it.
But I am actually also enjoying a change in surroundings, although it can't be good for business. I've been sat in the Watershed for over an hour now and all I've had is a pint of soda, with lime, which at just £1 can't be enough to cover the electricity I'm using to power my laptop.
I did however indulge in scrambled eggs with smoked salmon on granary toast at the Prom, yesterday and today, so didn't feel so bad.
The virtual office is definitely the way forward. There are currently about four other people sat here, all of them like me, immersed in the dull glow of their laptop screens. Perhaps writing a novel, moving stocks and shares around, putting together major proposals for new businesses or, again like me, perhaps just checking out Facebook and writing nonsense emails to their mates.
I can't believe what a victim I am of all of this new technology, (new to me at least). I was stomping around and pulling my ever-decreasing hair out when I couldn't get online earlier, and realised it was just because I wanted to update my 'status'. I should just use the word 'sad' or 'too much time on my hands' in future.
But there is a woman in the corner here with what can only be described as a book, and a sheaf of paper, and appears to be scribbling symbols and signs onto it, and forming what I believe are called sentences and paragraphs. I have no idea what witchcraft she is practising, but I'm not sure I trust it. It'll never catch on mind.

I managed to go for a run last night with Marc, about 40mins. We met at 6pm and it was still really baking hot, like running through hot glue. Really hard work and I am beginning to worry a bit about being in shape for the half marathon in September. I need to start cranking up the distance. Marc has taken to literally running rings around me as we plod on, which he says helps his training. Doesn't do much for me. Think I might accidentally stick a foot out in the style of Mary Decker and Zola Budd - how old am I? - next time he tries it.

Also managed to eat a home cooked meal for the first time in four days last night, good old chicken stir fry.
I don't appear to have lost any weight over the weekend, despite my physical jerks, but also I have not put any on, despite my indulgence in take aways. So that's no bad thing, I've managed to break even and can push on from here.