Low
Last night I think I passed some kind of awful line in the sand. We started off in Wagamama in Leicester Square. After, we moved on to a cool little pub in the West End where I plumbed a new low level of drunken obnoxious pontification. It turns out that I'm not always as charming and witty as beer leads me to believe. Who knew?

Rules for living: Remember, never talk about serious personal issues when you're high as a kite.

P.S. In my own defence, I think I usually am charming and witty when drunk. It's one of the things which makes me so gosh-darn adorable.

P.P.S. When sober, Kieran's current favourite CDs are:

• Tenacious D's self-titled album is both profound and profane in equal measure. Very funny, very entertaining and with some seriously hard rocking. This CD is very rude and definitely not one for the easily offended.
• I've almost worn out the CD for the Thoroughly Modern Millie: Original Broadway Cast Recording. This new musical only shares one or two songs with the 1967 movie of the same name; the new stuff is much better. Sutton Foster as Millie is an absolute delight. If they don't do a London production soon I may have to take my next holiday in New York.

Things you can read about
Mil Millington, the guy behind the extremely popular (and oddly blog-like) Things My Girlfriend and I Agrue About page, in which he details things that he argues about with his girlfriend, is all set to publish a book. Things My Girlfriend and I Argue About will be a fictionalized version of his web page Things My Girlfriend and I Argue About, the difference, of course, being that the "Things" he argues with his "Girlfriend" about in his book are not necessarily true and that while the "Girlfriend" in question may well happen to have shocking redhair and be German, she is in no way related to his other red-headed German "Girlfriend," i.e. the real one. Not that I'm implying Mil Millington has two girlfriends, oh no, but you can see where I'm coming from, can't you? You can't?!? Oh dear.

Anyhow, Mil's publisher's marketing department (hereafter known as a guy called Rob) has put up a little webpage in which Mil expands on a minor theme of the as-yet unpublished book. Click here to learn more about Angry Bed Positions.

Ah Wednesdays, I never could get the hang of Wednesdays
I awoke this morning at the very crack of dawn. I was to be collected for my day of fun at 6:45. I hadn't slept very well, but managed to get ready in spite of my congenital eye-droops.

At the appointed hour I was waiting outside, tie clasped in hand; Seconds later I was inside, behind the darkened windows of the agent's very clean car. Soon we were winging our way south towards our date with destiny. I was full of quiet joy as I contemplated my day of learning and, ummm, learning.

About an hour later we arrived at our destination. All was dark. We stood outside mumbling quietly to ourselves until we saw the first signs of habitation inside (someone turned on a light). We entered and had a cup of tea. Our agent and the man who let us in joked and shared stories. I nodded, pretended to laugh at the appropriate moments and dreamed of coffee. After a decent interval we whipped out our equipment and plopped it down on a spare table.

It was my job today to sit (and occasionally stand) quietly and observe. So that was precisely what I did. I observed. Funny thing about sitting and observing quietly...

It ain't half boring.

No matter how interesting the subject at hand might be, watching people enter figures into computers for 6 hours straight can give you a case of the MEGOs. So yes, My Eyes Glazed Over once or twice or thrice or 1700 times or so...

But golly, what an interesting day! I have a much better understanding of how our company makes its money. I met lots of interesting people, we badgered them and they gave us tasty sandwiches at the end of it all!

I felt the burn.

Harry up, Joanne
It's been two long years since JK Rowling published the fourth book in the Harry Potter saga. Rowling's publisher, Bloomsbury, is just as much in the dark about when the fifth book will be finished as the rest of us. "Joanne is happily writing away," says chairman Nigel Newton. He insists Rowling is not suffering from writer's block. So then what's the problem?

Has JK lost her magic spark? When am I going to be able to get my grubby mits on Harry's new adventure? This muggle's patience is starting to wear thin. Read more here.

P.S. Day two and all's well. People at work nice but insane. Lots to learn. Too tired to blog in detail. Tomorrow I'm going out with one our agents to learn more about the coalface end of the business. We're off to Ashford in Kent. Should be interesting.

Working
Today was the first day of my new job. I got up bright and early, my shining face full of hope and covered in acne. I carefully ironed my shirt, showered, shaved and walked to over to the Station. The queue was very long. Obviously I should have bought my weekly on Sunday night, but with me such ideas occur long after they would have been useful. So I queued.

"Weekly to London Bridge, please," I said proudly to the nice lady.

Ahh no, apparently I need a special railcard with a photo on it first. Do I have a photo on me? I do not.

"OK then, one Return to London Bridge," I grumbled.

As you might imagine, I made it to the platform just in time to watch the train to London Bridge pull off into the distance. Grumble.

Half an hour later I was on the next train. I comforted myself with the knowledge that I still had plenty of time. I would not be late for my first day at a new job.

A couple of stops down the line at East Croyden, I gave up my seat to an old lady. Standing next to me was a man with a large, full, hot cappuccino. The train pulled out of the station with a tremendous jolt.

Hands up if you can guess what happened.

OK, so now I'm standing on a train, my shirt and tie drenched in hot cappuccino. Luckily my trousers survived intact, but my newspaper was not so lucky. Oh dear.

Still, I was not worried. There must be a men’s clothing shop somewhere near London Bridge station. There just had to be!

There was not.

I walked/jogged in all directions, couldn't find a thing. Eventually I decided to start walking down towards work, hoping there would be something along the way. I called ahead to let them know I would be late. "Damn trains," I grumbled.

"We understand," they said, sympathetically.

So do you think there was a men’s clothing shop between London Bridge station and my new place of employment?

There was not.

Eventually, out of desperation, I went to a dry cleaner.

"I don't suppose there's any chance you sell shirts too, is there?" I asked, hopefully.

There was not.

"Is there anywhere around here that does?"

"There's a Next in Hays Arcade across from London Bridge Station."

I was getting a bit annoyed, I had seen the Next when I checked out the Hays Arcade 25 minutes earlier, "But I thought Next only sold women's clothes..."

"No, they sell menswear as well."

Aaaaaarrrggghhh!!!!!!

So, I began the long march back to London Bridge station and the Next in the Hays Arcade. I bought a new shirt and tie there; the nice lady even ironed my shirt for me. Bless. A quick taxi ride later and I was at work.

"Sorry I'm late!"

"We understand. Bloody trains."

Ha. Bloody trains.