Sunday night's alright for sulking
One week down, only twenty three to go. I'll admit, it wasn't as bad as I was imagining and the job certainly has its perks. On Wednesday, we had a test shoot for some actors and whilst it meant I had to be at work at the ghastly hour of 7am, I spent the day whizzing around at high speeds in a golf buggy for most of the day, feeling somewhat useful.
But the long days are definitely taking their toll; As a student, I would scorn those who chose a ready meal over something made from fresh ingredients but after only a week, I can totally see where they're coming from. After only a week of working, I trudge in every night dreaming of roast and end up settling for a packet of crisps and maybe an apple or two if I make it far enough into the kitchen. Whereas once the prospect of standing over the Aga for an hour was really rather enjoyable, even the sight of a vegetable peeler is enough to reduce me to exhausted tears. However, the weekend has somewhat revitalised me and today I've stuffed myself full of healthy vegetables and hopefully it'll sustain my need for vitamins until next weekend's well deserved rest.
As much as I enjoy weekends, there is no denying that Sunday evening is most depressing. I think I am yet to meet anyone who enjoys Sunday Evenings. Whilst I appreciate weekends on a whole new level now that I'm working during the week, the second 5pm rolls around on Sunday afternoon, there is a decided drop in the weekend atmosphere. And once it gets dark, that's it, weekend over and its back to work in a matter of hours.
If only the weekend were three days; I spend most of Saturday trying to sort out matters that were unsortable during the week and by the time Saturday night rolls round, I'm generally too exhausted from administratives to muster up the energy to go out. Given three days, I could use one to sort out my life and two on my back, reading the papers as I believe weekends should be spent.
And on the matter of what to do at weekends, I've been saddened to learn that the London Butterfly House in Gunnersbury Park is to close after beaurocracy and the apparent need for yet another hotel have reared their collective ugly heads. Whilst it is a rare occurence, I am for once in agreement with old Livingston that the Butterfly House should stay. I have fond memories of spending various Saturdays over my childhood marvelling at the butterflies swooping overhead and one slightly disturbing instance when a butterfly settled on my face and refused to move. So, in the words of Little Nicky do it for the Butterflies! Go to the website, www.londonbutterflyhouse.com, sign their petition and let your displeasure be known, I certainly have.
But the long days are definitely taking their toll; As a student, I would scorn those who chose a ready meal over something made from fresh ingredients but after only a week, I can totally see where they're coming from. After only a week of working, I trudge in every night dreaming of roast and end up settling for a packet of crisps and maybe an apple or two if I make it far enough into the kitchen. Whereas once the prospect of standing over the Aga for an hour was really rather enjoyable, even the sight of a vegetable peeler is enough to reduce me to exhausted tears. However, the weekend has somewhat revitalised me and today I've stuffed myself full of healthy vegetables and hopefully it'll sustain my need for vitamins until next weekend's well deserved rest.
As much as I enjoy weekends, there is no denying that Sunday evening is most depressing. I think I am yet to meet anyone who enjoys Sunday Evenings. Whilst I appreciate weekends on a whole new level now that I'm working during the week, the second 5pm rolls around on Sunday afternoon, there is a decided drop in the weekend atmosphere. And once it gets dark, that's it, weekend over and its back to work in a matter of hours.
If only the weekend were three days; I spend most of Saturday trying to sort out matters that were unsortable during the week and by the time Saturday night rolls round, I'm generally too exhausted from administratives to muster up the energy to go out. Given three days, I could use one to sort out my life and two on my back, reading the papers as I believe weekends should be spent.
And on the matter of what to do at weekends, I've been saddened to learn that the London Butterfly House in Gunnersbury Park is to close after beaurocracy and the apparent need for yet another hotel have reared their collective ugly heads. Whilst it is a rare occurence, I am for once in agreement with old Livingston that the Butterfly House should stay. I have fond memories of spending various Saturdays over my childhood marvelling at the butterflies swooping overhead and one slightly disturbing instance when a butterfly settled on my face and refused to move. So, in the words of Little Nicky do it for the Butterflies! Go to the website, www.londonbutterflyhouse.com, sign their petition and let your displeasure be known, I certainly have.
posted by adulescent at 1:20 PM
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