Londonward

This isn’t going at all how I envisioned it would. First, my fun-loving bohemian flatmates have managed to somehow screw up the council tax payment so that we are now either due in court or have to cough up extra money. For once, me being piss-poor at registering for anything I have to comes to my advantage, as I’m not actually on the list of the council tax payees for this place. However, it’s still unfortunate and because I have informally agreed to participate in the council tax (I just consider it an extra thing in my rent) so I think I’ll have to cough up the court avoidance fee.

The internet connection we got is, in theory, pretty good. In practice, I think the architecture of the house is giving me grief with connections, as I seem to lose connectivity every few minutes. It may be just me typing in my bed that makes it flaky, but I’m directly above the modem on the next floor up - there shouldn’t be that bad an obstruction to disrupt the signal.

Oh, and another thing. Work. I had somehow envisioned me working nearly full time over summer, as ever since I started at my part-time job people had been telling me good things about the money. Now my boss has posted a schedule that people can tack their desired shifts on. But get this: He actually says “for the time being, please do not take consecutive days.” What?! So not only would I be splitting a five-day work week 4 ways (as there are four of us), it would mean I wouldn’t be able to split it in the most sensible possible way (have one full week at work, one week off, say) that would allow me to actually have some holiday time as well.

I somehow didn’t see this coming. I knew there would be less shifts to go around during the summer, but also thought there would be less people staying on. I’m still a bit dazed from all this, as I’ve just woken up. In any case, it looks like I’ll have to find a second job to cover my expenses of staying in London. And how will I respond to the email from my boss? I’d need to indicate my availability for shifts on specific (non-consecutive) days that would fix my schedule and therefore prevent me from planning for any contingency. How is one to deal with this kind of situation? Damn.

No, O2 didn’t send the text message they promised. It’s now nearly 11 o’ clock in the evening and I convinced my housemate to give me the box and let me try and plug it in - what’s the worst that could happen? All the documentation say not to try it if no message has been sent, but I thought Wednesday means Wednesday - it had better work.

And here I am. Working like a charm. I’m not sure of the achieved speed, but it isn’t too bad. Now I can do all the silly things again like chat on MSN from bed or listen to eclectic internet radio while hanging my laundry. I’ve missed the convenience. Maybe I can get the re-found excitement out of my system by the time it’s time to get back to serious research, so that I’m not constantly being distracted by the wonders of the internet.

I’ve got to hand it to O2 Broadband for making appealing marketing. From the floral box the modem arrived in to the “happy home” ads and perky documentation, it all feels very nice and friendly. Apparently they’ve been very good at keeping the flatmate who ordered the package up to date with text messages about activation and delivery times.  It’s a rare thing when documentation can make you laugh out loud, but that’s what they managed with their description of the accompanying software CD, saying it would make a beautiful coaster but that maybe it’s a good idea to keep it somewhere safe.

If the actual usage experience is anything like the cheerful and nice image they put out, I shall be a very happy customer.  Activation is on Wednesday. I can’t wait.

My room is on the second floor, facing the ground floor flat’s garden and train tracks that lie just beyond a tree buffer. Yet somehow, in the hours between sunrise and the alarm clock it transformed into a one-room cottage where my mansard window became the door bordering on a pasture. As English homes tend to do, there was no real doorstep - Outside became Inside where the door swung open. There I was, wondering how my wardrobe had changed into a passage into a tiny kitchen with another door leading outside when my phone rang. I was talking to a friend (I can’t remember who, I’m sorry) when the main door swung open and a shepherd greeted me loudly. As he stepped into the room, his flock of sheep all filed in and headed straight for the kitchen and its door. I desperately tried to hear myself think and talk while clearing out dirty laundry off the floor so that they wouldn’t get tangled in the legs of the sheep, not to mention because of my embarrassment as this shepherd I knew had just burst in.

As the man deftly stepped over some stragglers in his flock to open the door to let them out into the sunny pasture to the left, I woke up to birdsong and general confusion.