Boring

Came back to the flat late yesterday - managed to convince my (very pregnant) sister to give me a lift, since she wanted to see the place anyway - because the house was getting very boring. I went back on Saturday to do some more packing, but spent a good portion of the day in bed. That's not to say I didn't get anything done... but, frankly, I got more done on Sunday morning, when my mother started clearing up for the arrival of my sister.

The odd thing was, before I left the flat, I debated whether or not to take my house keys. I'd said I'd be popping round so, with any luck, my folks would be around, right?

Let's just say it's lucky I brought the keys... I would have been waiting outside for a couple of hours otherwise. My father stayed in bed till Saturday afternoon, and my mother was out shopping till after midday.

Once the scrap boxes were disposed of and the sofabed opened out, I was able to access the final cabinet, enabling me to box up my Japanese Beast Wars figures, thus freeing up even more space. Suddenly the task does not seem insurmountable. All I really have to do now is shuttle over the two bags of boxes I have ready, take the bags back, fill them up again then repeat till everything's over here. I reckon the Galaxy Force stuff should only take one trip.

Watched the Doctor Who Easter special, and must once again request that Russell T. Davies stop writing for Doctor Who. It was an hour long episode that could easily have been trimmed by half - there was no suspense, only padding - and the effects budget could have been reduced by cutting out the insect-headed alien things which served absolutely no useful purpose. Oh, and, forgive me if I'm wrong, but wasn't it rather a rip-off of Pitch Black? Only not as good..? And with a body count of only two (insect-headed alien things, so that doesn't even count)? Really, truly rubbish. Not even Michelle Ryan in a catsuit improved it. Her character was reasonably interesting but, typically, ended the episode wanting to be the Doctor's companion... but he's still moping, and refused because he "loses everyone". Um. How many years has he been travelling, and how many companions has he lost before having this epiphany? Come on...

What really brought me back to the flat was Lewis. I was almost considering staying at the house again, even though there was bugger all to do there. Lewis - the follow up to Inspector Morse - irritated me from the outset, and followed a whole stream of rubbish television that my parents seem to enjoy (and enjoy inflicting on others - my sister was paying a rare visit... and we're watching TV?).

So getting back to the flat gave me the opportunity to talk to my sister... and learn that I'm going to have a niece... named Catherine Imogen. Cool name, I think.

While I was at the house, I started reading an old 'diary' of mine. I never really got the hang of diaries, and ended up scrawling notes in various leftover school exercise books, many of which amounted to "I'm too tired to write anything today, I'll do it tomorrow...". I was pretty surprised by what I read... It chronicled my first few months in my first job (so that would have made me about 19), and I couldn't quite believe what a tit I was.

I was obsessing mainly over whether or not I should ask out an old schoolfriend (and, to this day, I still have not... having realised that she was a bit of a cow), or one of my new colleagues (who got fired before I made a decision) or, later, another new starter (who ended up going out with one of the print room lads, while I couldn't figure out if she liked me or not). I strongly resented so much as five minutes overtime and, on at least one occasion, was not paid the proper amount because the accountant (in the office two or three days a month) decided I'd overestimated my time. And then, at the end of my three month trial, I was given another three months probation because I "didn't do enough on my own initiative".

While I remembered these events, my impressions of them were utterly alien to me. Who was this moron? Why did he care whether this girl or that girl liked him or not? Why did he care whether they said goodbye at the end of the day? And overtime? So what? I do even more now, and I'm not even paid for it.

Truly bizarre... I mean, I'm not the most thoughtful or empathic person now, but back then I was well and truly shut inside the tiny little box of my mind. At least I had the good grace to recognise back then what a good friend I had in my old mate Paul...

So now I'm killing time before going off shopping - theoretically in search of new TransFormers, rumoured to be available at Lakeside.

I have had more ideas for my 16 year old game... figuring out the introduction and how it leads into the game. I've also brought a pencil and some rubbers back from the house, so hopefully I'll do some sketching later on.

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