|The only heart-motif thing I own|
My parents told me off when I skyped them this evening, because I have entirely failed to send a card to Ireland. My excuses about complicated stamp systems and lack of free time cut very little ice. With the resultant guilt weighing heavy on my shoulders, I am dedicating this post to the boyf (who may even read it, who knows?) who really does deserve chocolate roses or something.
I was at work today (very narrowly - the front entrance was closed for some sort of loud drilling and hammering, so I had to go round the side, where they just about demanded a password. Due to my lack of fancy photocard, I had to show them my passport for 'photo-ID', although how that told them I was a non-violent temporary employee I have no idea), enjoying the quiet of a Sunday (apart from the Arts desk woman behind me who was the only person in from her section and, from the sounds of things, having the worst day of her life). I also experienced IT Support, as recalcitrant fonts were making it very hard to get anything done. I had a few long, mostly silent phonecalls with a man who remote-accessed by computer and found that there was indeed a problem loading pages, and then a very lovely lady came round and fixed it in about 5 minutes.
I also abridged a recipe for the first time (in an official capacity, anyway - my style of cooking tends rather to the 'Well, I've got almost half the ingredients, should be fine!'), so look out for that on Tuesday, hopefully!
I'm pretty tired after an evening of delicious butternut soup (made by The Godmother's own fair hand), sourdough toast, tea and TV, so I will sign off for now.