Today, I was once more in fine form. Right, here we go, eleven-hour shift, eight mile walk, and today’s big after-work adventure is… drawing naked chicks in a seedy pub with someone I barely know. Which is not quite as seedy as it sounds. I hope.
It only occurs to me now to also hope this is not supposed to be a Date. Corks, that would be doubly embarrassing – I can’t remember this lassie’s name.
Well today’s good news is, the folder full of confidential results for the consultant has been Found! Okay, it had technically not been Lost – nope, the junior had… taken it away. To LONDON. Dear Christ. Someone’s apparently already been suspended for ripping confidential information into what they thought was small enough pieces and putting them in the normal bin, rather than the Confidential Wastebag, and here a whole week’s worth of it just walked out the door. Eek. Well, apparently they’re back, which is the main thing. Or, they will be back. Allegedly. Right, nobody’s ever getting their hands on that thing again except Dr Anonymous himself, and he will have to come and get it from my hands.
Today is traditionally Stupid Questions Day. I was not disappointed, shall we say. In fact, I was highly amused by my Colleague of Cakes coming to the door of my office and the doorhandle coming right off in her hand. That’s fantastic, I’ve been here under a week and the place is already falling apart! Indeed, on closer inspection – we were looking for the screw that must have fallen out – we discovered that there isn’t one. There isn’t one on the other side, either. There are also no screws visible on the handles of any of the doors up and down the corridor. Thus I see no reason any of em should stay on. So, potentially, anyone could stand up to leave and find themselves stuck in a small room with a window that doesn’t even open, and a door that won’t either. Over the weekend.
To my shame, I fell about laughing. Of course, I will not find it funny when it actually happens.
Well, the fear of sudden captivity did somewhat liven up the overtime, which went on till seven at night and was as disappointing as all get-out (pun intended). There is something about the working day ending and the work suddenly having a drop in levels of interest that is deeply unsatisfying, what.
Look on the bright side! I thought. At least you are employed! (for now). At least you are about to implement lots of positive changes in your life! (which you have been about to implement for more than ten days now). At least you have a Direction and if you keep the heid, all will be well by Christmas!
Then an email from the Boss came in. Someone is Getting Moved To Paisley, apparently, and If There Are No Volunteers I Will Pick Someone. But it’s not a permanent move, just month-by-month spending half a week over there, and do not worry, for all your work will still be waiting for you on your return! Yes, thanks boss, that was exactly what I worried about when I read that. My work already takes all week, thanks.
Now, it’s not necessarily me that’s getting moved. It’s not even necessarily someone from this hospital. But since I am about to implement a lot of positive changes in my life (watch this space, I’ll still be about to implement em as part of my 2011 New Year’s Resolutions, probably), this is the sort of thing that would put a complete and utter spanner in the works, which does indeed make it rather more likely to fall on my head like an anvil. For one thing, this would involve having to get a bus pass again, not to mention massively increased transport times. What is at a premium in my life at the moment, apart from Peace? Time and money, is what.
Yeah, place your bets.
Well dammit, I thought, if they do move me, it shall not prevent me making Positive Changes, by eck! I shall get a kind friend (by begging, or blackmail) to come help me fix that mountain bike I bought ages ago, and I shall just have to spend the winter in a swivet of sweat and mud and fear, taking my life in my hands in the teeth of the traffic and looking like Stig of the Dump.
On which note, I left the office and stomped into town with a disconcertingly light rucksack. Right! Off to meet strangers and draw naked women!
I found the place, I had a ciggie outside, I went in, I paid, I located the loos, the bar and a very cheap pint and… Mr Connor O’Bain! Why, fancy meeting you here! He took me through to meet Lirazel and all, oh cool as, how fab is this, I came to a new place and ran straight into some folks about whom, I was just thinking on the way in, I really should get in contact with them! I had not even realised, it’s already nearly a whole year since I last saw them! Lirazel has changed shape in the interim, and looks Fab, they have different jobs from the ones they had last time, ltos of change all round! Heh, and here’s me doing the same old same old.
But, coolio. The lassie from the allotments isn’t due here for another forty minutes, I shall have Company! And thus feel slightly less like the sort of person who goes alone to a seedy bar and stands around drawing nekkid wimmin.
Worse, I could not find my charcoal, so I had come up with the cunning plan that a big, black oil-pastel is pretty much the same thing, right? Wrong. I was pretty much standing there scrawling away with a giant crayon. Really makes it look like you’re there for your Art, doesn’t it. I was two small steps off ‘no actual paint on the paintbrush’.
So the presence of people I know was an inordinate amount of help when the model struck a pose that was really badly lit, no shadows anywhere, so I decided I would do a close-up of the only bit with any shading at all… and only realised five minutes in that I was standing in public, drawing an enormous pair of tits. Oops. Being quite shy and retiring, I tried to rectify the situation by quickly concentrating on the shadow on the model’s arm. Which was a shadow of said tits. I may not be psychologically cut out for this.
Mr O’Bain’s mate, it turned out, had been drawing the exact same thing I had. Although he’s a bloke, so he’s probably Obliged to.
I did not find the lassie from the allotments, even though I went a wander after the tits incident. Ooh, round the other side of the booth, there is another model. And this one is a naked bloke! And what a pose! Oh sweet Jesus, I could not have asked for a sweeter one – all the angle-poises were turned so one half of his body was fully lit, with the hollows of his collarbones and neck and so forth in darkness, and the other half in shadow with only the corresponding sticky-outy bits highlighted. And I’m not talking about his willy; this was not just Art, this was sculpture. This is awesome! I thought. If I can only get this down properly, it would Sell. Quick, find a position without actually elbowing anyone off the balcony, here we go, right, breastbone goes like so-
And the bell went. And he decided his next pose would be, ‘sitting on the floor’, and immediately dropped out of view except for the top of his hair. Curses.
Well despite the trials and tribulations and plain old embarrassment, not to mention the disarray of my meeting-people plans, for I never did find the lassie from the allotments, it was a damn good evening. Bit of a domino effect this week though, eh. Sunday: Open Doors at the allotments, where I met lassie who invited me to draw naked people. Tonight, I went along and lo, I have now been invited to try trapeze with Lirazel tomorrow. I… was going to be a hermit for the foreseeable, was I not?
In conclusion: Hurrah for the demolition of my plans!
(Seriously, how often do I get to say that?)