I was woken by the front
door slamming rather noisily at 3.10am. So I went downstairs in case
the worst had happened. Needless to say it was only the first fruit
of my loin coming home quietly. He looked rather smart - he'd been to
a casino (in Margate) to lose forty quid. I tried to hint that
he could lose forty quid more constructively by giving it to me, but
for all that my lad might be a bit daft, he ain't stupid.
Mind you, I wish he'd
come home even more quietly: once I'm woken I have terrible trouble
getting back to sleep again, and having exchanged insults with him
and having had a quick tiddle, I then lay in bed until 9.30am.
Yesterday I mentioned
that I was in a sulk at work. I was doubly sulking today. Having
thought that I was on an early start, I found out yesterday (at
almost the last minute) that I'd been reassigned to the late
shift. I don't mind the late start because I go to work in daylight,
but the later lunch break (2pm at the earliest) is too late
for comfort, and the last few hours of the day do seem to drag.
I really don't like the
way we have a seemingly random shift allocation. I would far rather
do a week of late shifts rather than have an odd late midweek after
which I do not get home before 9pm, and know I have to be out of bed
at 6am the next morning.
And being on a sudden
late shift really stuffed my plans for the evening. I'd been invited
to a game of poker, and I missed the first half hour. Mind you,
despite turning up late, I still managed to win. I did the victory
dance to celebrate....
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