Scooby Doo, Where Are You...?

Almost midnight? Deserted dilapidated funfair? Strange man dressed as an old woman trying to scare me away from the doorway but trips over a dog into the lap of a dopehead, his wig falling off in the process, revealing him to be the janitor who had been pretending to be a ghost in the funfair for no apparent reason?

That last bit might not have happened.

A late enough and long enough day at work (11 hours, nae lunch hour, meetings almost solid form 10.30-4.30) that a wee 'clear the heid' ride sprung to mind as Mel announced she was going to bed. To be honest it was a chance to make sure the lights were all working fine for the bike, riding home tonight I was on the very edge of needing them, and last night coming back from the velodrome the front light conked out as I hit the front door, so I wanted to make sure it was just the batteries. Oh, and I could also test the bikecam to see what it was like in the dark (main road streetlights, not bad; elsewhere... hmmm, can see shapes).

Porty Prom near midnight on a still and clear night is rather peaceful, with just the waves providing a backing track. It helped.

It's not as if long hours are that bad here; and certainly not worse than a couple of previous jobs. But it all feels a little relentless at the mo, rather than a one-off 2am-type-thang (though with that I find once you hit about 9pm you resign yourself to the long haul). And the meetings. The hours of meetings.I'm not good at corporateness.

But more planning for the holiday done tonight, which is all good. Oh, and probably haven't mentioned on here yet that when we get back, a week and a bit later to be exact, I'll be 'performing' at a poetry slam in the city. Have I mentioned it here? Can't honestly remember. Should be interesting. Three rounds - I'm at least hoping to get through the first one. Rhyming rants are formulating.