It's a long, long time since I've posted anything here and I was amazed to take a look and see how many people have stopped by. Not bad for an effectively dead blog. Makes me feel like I should post something new -- at least once in a while. It might be a good place to get off my chest various gripes I have about what's going wrong in the area East of Dulwich.
Apologies for the fact that a change in service provider saw the demise of the original and best East of Dulwich bl@g, lovingly created on an ever-increasing MS Word file, uploaded using My Computer on Windows 97... and a pig to manage. Maybe if enough of the original readers post a comment here, I'll find a way of uploading the file to some on-line repository but perhaps this is a case where we should let sleeping dogs lie.
For the time being at least, East of Dulwich is now migrating to Blogger.
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blogging. Show all posts
Monday, 8 March 2010
Wednesday, 20 June 2007
The paradox of time (or why everytime you think you've finished one task, another five turn up together)
Just when I thought it was safe to go back in the water of rl, my agent phones me up to ask me if I'd consider a temporary summer job with a nearby public library service. Well, I couldn't say no really so they put forward my (frankly rather embarrassingly archaic) CV and to my mild surprise, their interviewing me on Friday morning.
I remember the days when student life meant a grant and if you got a summer job at all, it was picking fruit, while living in a cave in Southern Crete. But if this comes off, I'm going to spend the balmy months of June, July, August and September weeding the mills and boon, listening to kids earn their summer reading challenge rewards by reciting the entire story of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and saying "shh!" a lot (I wish).
Still I need the money -- paraconsistent logic doesn't pay the rent (or rather it does and it doesn't pay the rent).
Anyway, I feel that I've let down my readers of late and so as soon as I've done a bit of research on the library service in question, cycled over to their new super-dooper libary (so I can tell them just how wonderful it is), and I think we're late spring cleaning this afternoon. When I've done this I will:
** List my own 8 tediouser tag facts (sorry AHH)
** Put a new post on the primary site of East of Dulwich (sorry MRV)
** Find a way of transferring and cleaning up the EOD files (Word 2000, yes seriously) on the MacBook so that I don't have to fire up my poor ailing PC every-time I want to update
(By the way if AHH is reading this I would like one more guess at who GP is but it's a bit of a long-shot...well at least as distant as his philosophical interest is in time (2,329 years by my reckoning.))
I remember the days when student life meant a grant and if you got a summer job at all, it was picking fruit, while living in a cave in Southern Crete. But if this comes off, I'm going to spend the balmy months of June, July, August and September weeding the mills and boon, listening to kids earn their summer reading challenge rewards by reciting the entire story of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and saying "shh!" a lot (I wish).
Still I need the money -- paraconsistent logic doesn't pay the rent (or rather it does and it doesn't pay the rent).
Anyway, I feel that I've let down my readers of late and so as soon as I've done a bit of research on the library service in question, cycled over to their new super-dooper libary (so I can tell them just how wonderful it is), and I think we're late spring cleaning this afternoon. When I've done this I will:
** List my own 8 tediouser tag facts (sorry AHH)
** Put a new post on the primary site of East of Dulwich (sorry MRV)
** Find a way of transferring and cleaning up the EOD files (Word 2000, yes seriously) on the MacBook so that I don't have to fire up my poor ailing PC every-time I want to update
(By the way if AHH is reading this I would like one more guess at who GP is but it's a bit of a long-shot...well at least as distant as his philosophical interest is in time (2,329 years by my reckoning.))
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