Sun, breeze, stench

It's beautiful in Oxford today. The sun is shining, there is a warm breeze. I'm not wearing a jacket. This is a good thing because my sweater is a bit whiffy today. The thing is, I left it in the washing machine for a couple of days and it now smells mouldy. I thought not wearing a jacket and having said sweater exposed to the elements would rid me of its smell but no. Evil bosslady caught me sniffing myself this morning. She wanted to know if I'd taken up smoking and was trying to detect the stench of smoke. I just said 'yes' as it was easier than telling her about the washing machine incident. She'd only have advised me to get a tumble drier. Then I would have had to retaliate by saying I'm not the one on a huge salary who lives in an 8 bedroom house in North Oxford (one of the swishest bits of the country for those of you not in Spireville) and being the environmentally conscious person that I am, would prefer to allow clothes to dry naturally rather than use colossal amounts of electricity. All in all, smoking seemed the easy way out.

I might actually take up smoking. I've been meaning to for ages (smokers just look sooooo cool) and the smoke would mask the mouldy smell.

Currently listening toWhat's Love Got To Do With It by Tina Turner. Good song. She rocks (for a geriatric).

I fell over in the road yesterday. No, I wasn't drunk. It was at the corner of Broad Street and Parks Road. The curb has a step. I was wearing flip-flops and fiddling with my trusty ipod. Not looking where I was going. It was painful. I might sue the Council. Do I have a case? Lawyers, this could be the case that makes your career.

work

Okay...so evil bosslady wants me to do stuff I know nothing about. Advice, please...

And so, since EVERYONE and his mother has a blog, I've decided to create one too. It seems a good way of keeping in touch with people I've not seen in ages as well as killing some time when I should be earning my paltry salary.

I live with a German chap and a Belgian girl. The German chap is most un-German about most things BUT when it comes to electricity, he morphs into the führer. The Belgian is a disaster in general.

Anyway, picture this...

It's 11pm on a Monday. I decided to have a shower (I'd been to the gym but forgot to take a towel so couldn't shower there). I got undressed and stepped into the shower cubicle. Pressed the button and adjusted the temperture. About 20 seconds into said cleansing, the shower stopped, the lights went off the heater went cold. What to do?
Taking my life into my hands, I precariously managed to fumble around in the dark for my dressing gown and headed to the fuse box which lives in my bedroom. Nothing seemed amiss. Fuck. Looked out the window and saw that the houses opposite had light.

I promptly got in to bed and fell asleep. The next morning, I was awakened by a scream...

The German tried to make a cup of tea but as we don't have a coal powered kettle, was out of luck. I said, 'oh, there's no electricity. It went off around 11 last night'.

He was livid. LIVID. Mild mannered German was mild mannered no more.

Now, my question to you is, what would you have done:

a) Do what I did and go to sleep?

b) wake up the housemates and have a confab.?

c) Ring the electricity company place and demand they send someone out?


Go on...say you'd have gone back to bed. That's what all the people I've asked have said. The German contingent think I should have woken up the housemates IMMEDIATELY and then called the electricity place. DISASTER! Who the fuck was going to come at 11pm? I repeated it like a mantra but to no avail.

Things haven't been the same in J Street since then...