By gum, I am full of pizza.
Thank the Gods, it's Friday.
It's been a hectic couple of weeks and I am worn out. I should have been on annual leave right now, and in Greece, for a fortnight; but things have worked out differently in the end and I'm here instead.
I hardly know where to begin. There are things where I'm not sure how much it's okay for me to say. I was interviewed for my job, and I've been told verbally how I did, but not officially in writing. Some of my colleagues are in the same boat and others haven't been told yet, some of them because they've only just been interviewed. In theory the new structure for our department is formally anounced next week; so I think I should probably do well not to talk about it until then.
The whole business of getting thus far has been horribly drawn-out. Different departments started their restructure programmes at different times, and some aren't as advanced as ours. I cannot wait for it all to be over, and I'm sure I am not the only person who feels that way. I understand the need to do this, I even agree with it; but it's no less exhausting and depressing for that.
Meanwhile, I've had a good week in other ways. I got some things done at work that I wanted to get done, wrote most of another chapter at home, of something that had got bogged-down, and had a couple of drinks with some colleagues tonight followed by a very self-indulgent pizza supper. The weather has been bright and cheerful too, and the first autumn colour is staring to gild the streets and the gardens, and the Gardens too. The autumn festival, the Intoxication Season, is excellent, too, with some really good displays and a terrific programme of talks at the weekends. The autumn theatre season starts next week for me, too, with "Manon" at Covent Garden with the DipGeek. I am tired-out, but on balance it's been a good week, at least on a personal level (the international situation doesn't bear thinking about, but this is not a socio-political blog).
I think the worst thing that has happened to me was this morning, when I went to a colleague's baby shower and unexpectedly the chap I've been trying not-to-have the crush on walked in. I was so taken aback I could hardly look at him at first. Then there came a moment when he was nearby, taking some grapes from a dish, and I wanted to say something sensible and friendly, something that would signal that I just want to be friends; but my eye fell on his hands, as he stood there peacefully picking grapes from the bunch, and my idiotic brain was completely paralysed by the sight. All I could think was damn-you-have-such-attractive-hands... Nothing intelligent occured to me at all; nothing that was adult and friendly and devoid of embarrassing overtones. I am hopeless.
I do accept, rationally, that he isn't interested in me in the way I am in him. But my irrational hind-brain is rushing about in bearskins howling, it would seem. Damn it, calm down, you.
Apparently his office is being moved, though; he's going to be in the same building as me soon. So I will have plenty of opportunity to teach myself to be calm and adult and a good colleague, and not a mad hairy crazy cavewoman. I vow to do better. After all, good grief, I don't even know if he's gay or straight or any one of the myriad nuances in between. It simply won't do to be cavewoman Ims, acting out and jangling my beads and waving my fancy flint hand-axe. He's a nice man, he deserves better than that; and so do I. Friendship's the thing. That fing wot grown-ups do. You can do this, Ims.
English National Ballet National Tour
2 hours ago