Well after the first day, it seems almost mandatory that I write something at least, given the fact that throughout the day I’ve been asked “You’re working on a bank holiday, why?” just to overlook said fact really.

In fact this morning started out rather slowly, after the night before when I arrived late, and had spent about 20 minutes on the famous (apparently) roof garden of the Hotel Urban, and crying over the fact that a small bottle of beer cost 9 euros.

I started out not wanting to wake up, business as usual you might agree, but it was only the fact that the alarm sounded different and the fact that the room looked different that I realised I wasn’t in Kansas any more.

I could into more detail of the stages of man that is the morning routine of fumbling about in the dark, but I’ll leave it there.

Having made my escape to the exit, I looked for breakfast and thinking I was running late, I went to Starbucks. Yep, go to a different country and end up having the same thing. No wonder I’d stink doing old Michael Palin’s job of wandering around sitting in various plac….err…never mind, and then I tried to get a taxi to work.

Not a difficult thing to do, however I barely speak English, let alone Spanish or any other language other than complete b*****ks, and trying to direct the driver to somewhere where I was pronouncing it like marijuana, he probably thought I was after a good time.

But once the mix-up and the exchange was made (wait, scrap the exchange part) was sorted out, I arrived to a near empty office. Turns out most people only started coming back today, and were still in a holiday mood. Ok then.

Still it was always interesting to see how the Spanish work, and I never get over how care free they are. The building could be burning down, society collapsing but as long as they have a ciggie in one hand, and time for a chat, bugger what happens.

I’m ending today’s blog post (making it sound like I write on here that often, as if anyone will believe that) to catch up on translating stuff and having a wander around town, the sun is still shining and there be much eye-humping of the ladies to accomplish.

Well seeing as I am currently at Heathrow Terminal 3, along with what seems to be the rest of London right now, maybe the Notting Hill carnival scared everyone or something, I have managed to park myself down with the laptop and for the first time in ages, at least update this magical muse of the world with something of substance.

I had an inclination of doing so while here anyway before the brown-trousers-time that is the flight to Madrid, but the timing came around so quickly it suprised me.

I had reached the airport in good time, wandered through all the fancy check-in thing, pushing buttons, scanning different things, and then after being hand raped by the UK Border control people, you reach the DMZ that is the “Duty Free” area.

I reached the level of utter boredom within 12 minutes, a new record for loitering around an airport. Simply put, unless you are in the market for overly priced booze, ciggies or electric gear which is cheaper to get at Play.com, your mind starts dying very quickly.

Then again, I do wonder if this is on purpose; allow the mind to lapse into a coma to dull everything for the flight out, therefore removing from your subconsciense the knowledge that you fly 30,000 feet in a tin can, and that you’re the only non-terrorist aboard not wanting to play with the combination of fire and footware.

It’s not the first time I’ve remarked on the fear of flying, nor will it be the last, but given the fact there is so so little to do, you can’t even play with sharp things on your wrists with the security here, that you may as well be slumped on the floor like a dead bumblebee.

Might give that a go actually, it might be interesting for about 3 minutes….

There are have a great many things happening in the past few weeks, including watching that new film, Incorrect bellwethers with Brad Pitt playing Jimmy Hill, Bruce Forsyth or indeed anyone else whose chin could be used to land planes. Trust me, a post regarding the film is deserved, for slightly different reasons than you might think though. Hmm, should I spoil it now or wait.

Nah, wait. Waiting is the theme right now, and it can wait till later on when hopefully (if Gravity hasn’t decided to book the same flight as me and f**k things up) I shall retire to the roof garden of a fancy pants hotel, drink something I have no idea what it is, and then once again whip out this very device I am typing on right now.

For now, I bid you farewell. Now, I need a drink with accompanying VAT receipt….

Yes, some people have been in contact wondering where I am right now as there has been nothing on most of the sites I tend to abuse like twitter, facebook and even the mighty OohSometimes.com Well, I’ve been working a lot this week, and then still had a ton to do on the weekend, therefore Saturday evening and today has meant really today was my weekend away from thinking about SQL Server, Anything that’s broke, anyone moaning about their useless things being broke….blah blah blah etc.

And what I had to look forward to was this:

Washing.

It almost makes it all worthwhile doesn’t it? (Note, Irony used here does not extend to those getting blown to bits in other places which are having harder times, nor those without jobs struggling to survive, so letters about all that are a no-no, mmmkay?)

It does make you wonder, now that we are in the 21st century, (well on paper, there are plenty of people wandering round London dragging knuckles on the floor, staring at other people and wanting to bash them over the head.) that certain things like this surely could be done automatically, thus leaving more time to waste on other more peaceful solutions to life, like sitting down.

My gym fat exorcism hasn’t gone too well recently, in fact, going once in a week is not overly fantastic news, again considering the amount it costs here. It appears now more obliviously than before (which I have been told anyway by others when I appear back in the real world) I am a workaholic and have no real thoughts or inclinations about doing something else.

It again all has given me pause for thought in-between playing the second episode of Monkey Island and eating things which burn the roof of my mouth and perhaps now there is nothing to be done about it.

I think I’ve reached the point where I’ve become a boring middle of the road adult who thinks talking about work is interesting.

Merde.

I feel like the baby mutant off Total Recall….”Start the reactor”

There are certain times in our lives where we wonder if we even should have bothered getting out of bed, lived off the bed lice and then die of boredom with our hands round our genitils, being unable to produce any more liquid from any opening on our bodies.

To some, that’s the ideal living, except for the death part of course, but with the behaviour and level of stupidity I see in London, sometimes it does make me think.

To top it all off, as the day had already been filled with various pauses for thought, I actually went to Greggs the bakers today. Now, to those around the world who do not know the typical UK street shops, it’s a chain of bakers who seem to pride themselves on selling sandwiches and various pastry products all at the same luke warm temperature.

Now examine the below picture;

It seems having given away the fact that there is cheese in the Sausage, Bean and Cheese melt, they felt it of great importance to write “contains cheese” on the same sign.

Forgive me, but if that’s not the stuff of legend, I don’t know what is. So Greggs are certain the melts contain cheese, but as for the rest of what’s in them, they don’t know?

Welcome to London.