I spent a little while
this morning applying for jobs. There were one or two that I felt I
could do. But realistically I'm not going to get my hopes up. I'm
more and more coming to the conclusion that job hunting is something
that I shouldn't do - it is just winding me up.
The most recent fruit of
my loin was home this morning together with Sid. As I left she asked
if there was anything about the house she might do. I expect she was
just being polite to her old Dad, but I took the opportunity to give
her an epic task list to be getting on with. That'll teach her to ask
me if jobs need doing (!)
And so to work. Being on
a late start meant I left two hours later than usual. Those two hours
make all the difference between clear roads and being stuck in
traffic. And between an empty car park and a full one.
And coming home two hours
later than usual makes a lot of difference to the journey as well.
The roads are about as busy, but the listening on the radio is
terrible. There was a choice between some dribble on Radio 4 about
heaven only knows what, or the organist who was failing to entertain
the listeners on Radio 2. I was almost (but not quite) at the point
of tuning into Sophocles who was having a tragedy on Radio 3 (bless
him!). But there was no way that I was going to pretend that I am
still hip enough to be one of the cool types who listen to Radio 1.
I suppose there are other
radio stations than those run by the BBC. Perhaps I might give them a
try before dismissing them out of hand... ?
Perhaps I should have
watched what was on the telly. And before much longer that will quite
possibly be an option when driving. Successful
trials of self-driving cars have just been concluded in which
three cars and a lorry all effectively drove themselves for two
hundred kilometres. Reaching speeds of fifty miles per hour, they
were at times within only six metres of other cars. I'm impressed. I
wonder how long it will be before this sort of thing becomes
standard.
In the meantime, science
has been morally lax. Apparently whilst those of a latin
temperament leer at women's behinds, those of anglo-saxon descent are
more interested in the chesticles. Personally I can't help but feel
that science should have a cold shower.
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