Friday, June 02, 2006
Unintended Poetics
There has been a mystery at work this week worthy of a paperback title at least. 'The Missing Whispers' sounds intriguing, perhaps even fascinating, but actually means that we are no longer getting prompted as to what manner of phone call we are receiving. Now when we pick up there isn't a voice that says "agricultural waste call", previously an excellent cover to stop laughing or swallow your mouthful of tea/apple/humbug. So far nothing disastorous has come of this but if the thief could return our whispers soon we can all rest easy.
It hasn't been an especially arduous week between the bank holiday and today being a dress down day for Breast Cancer Research. It was a pound if you wore pink so consequently I am left wearing my only pink shirt, shorts and flip flops. Perhaps a psycologist could explain why this outfit is less conducive to work but it is. Sadly our office grandfather figure beat me to the cross word so I have filled in the day calculating my carbon emissions through round-the-world air travel (over 6 tonnes).
It hasn't been an especially arduous week between the bank holiday and today being a dress down day for Breast Cancer Research. It was a pound if you wore pink so consequently I am left wearing my only pink shirt, shorts and flip flops. Perhaps a psycologist could explain why this outfit is less conducive to work but it is. Sadly our office grandfather figure beat me to the cross word so I have filled in the day calculating my carbon emissions through round-the-world air travel (over 6 tonnes).
# posted by Smith @ 8:53 AM 
