Printing

I woke up and went to the office, although I almost overslept. I am still suffering from a bunged-up ear, and I simply didn't hear the alarm. I was out of the house in time for my train, but when I arrived on the platform, it turned out to be cancelled. The next train meant a quick dash across Clapham Junction station to get the Overground. I hopped on board with a minute to spare, but I was out of breath. That should signify that I need to return to the gym.

Last week, I got an email from the company pension plan saying I must return some paperwork. I wasn't sure if I had the original, so I decided to print off a copy in the office. It struck me how antiquated these large printing machines feel to me now. I must have used one a couple of times in the last five years, whereas at one point, I was probably printing something weekly. In the previous office, I was continually updating a sequence diagram that I tacked to the wall near my desk so that I could talk people through the software flow. None of that is needed now, as people have been forced to use digital equivalents.

It was, nonetheless, nice to see the printout appearing in the right tray.

At one point on my way home, both PY and I were in Wimbledon Station simultaneously but on different trains on different routes. I suggested ordering a Chinese takeaway, which I eventually managed to do from the sofa at home. I was disappointed that I couldn't get the takeaway app to work and that I had to resort to Uber Eats, which is both more expensive and, I assume, takes some of the money.