On Saturday, we had to take a detour back to my house in order to get my chequebook, water the plants, and other fun things, before going to see Jenny's lovely new house. We went for drinks somewhere in town before then, but I can't for the life of me remember where... Anyway, Jenny's house is huge and very nice, and there was some brief panic/amusement when one of the cats decided to hide on top of one of the kitchen cupboards... Anyway, I gave her a cheque to cover our half of the rent until July, and need to start paying actual rent on the 1st... by which point, I will luckily have been paid...
Sunday was also spent rushing around, as we were due to meet Trevor-the-Landlord at 11.30 at the flat. He seems a nice enough sort, quite eccentric, but otherwise pleasant. No chance of us having a cat, but we can always ask. The flat looks quite weird empty. Luckily, the sideboard and wardrobes have been left behind, so that's one less thing to have to transport.
I still haven't even made a start on packing things up, but I'm hoping to work on that this week. There shouldn't be too much, really... at least not in terms of boxes. We spent the majority of Saturday trying to get a hold of Justin because he'd promised to drive his van and move stuff for us, but he wasn't answering his phone. Useless.
I digress. After meeting Trevor, we went for a couple of drinks in Kings Heath (dude, the flat's location is brilliant, right off the main high street) and got turned away at the first pub because they were IDing everyone. In the second pub we did some ItBoxing and then sat down to finish our drinks, where the grumpiest man in the world kept giving us filthy looks and swearing at the football. Needless to say, we didn't stay there very long, and went back to Paul's to pack his things and then go back to mine.
We stopped off in town to see Hard Candy. We tried UGC first, but as it's crap and useless the film was only showing on Fridays and Saturdays. Luckily, AMC was more helpful and the next showing was at 16.50, 20 minutes after we arrived. Since town was a fair jaunt away, we decided to investigate the pool room in the Bowlplex just opposite the cinema. Quite expensive (£20 deposit and then £8 per hour), but they serve real Coke so are therefore up a notch in my estimation. We intended to spend 20 minutes playing pool, but got carried away, and my brain told me that the next showing of the film was 17.20, so we aimed for that one.
As it turned out, it wasn't until 19.10... so we had another two hours to kill and decided to go bowling. I lost 2 games out of 3, but I kicked Paul's arse at the one I did win. I haven't been bowling in years so it took me a while to get into it. And I can still only lift an 8-weight ball with any success, because I'm a big wussy girl. I found a nice helpful 6-weight, but it kept getting jammed behind the skittles and wouldn't come back. :(
We did get to see the film eventually, and it was very good. Proper review or something resembling one later, as this entry is already too long. Back at mine we watched the first 20 minutes of the Acorn Antiques DVD (it's touring in February, yay!) and then passed out from exhaustion... As a result of the bowling, my back is killing me, as well as my right leg... though my arm is suprisingly not hurting in the slightest.
I have my interview tomorrow. I'm looking forward to that only marginally more than I'm looking forward to the team meeting we have scheduled at 3.30... and considering I'm dreading it, you have a pretty good idea of my mindset. This is a team meeting to discuss how the CPAs can reduce their workload and get their backlog down, by discovering off Tina H how much Ivy and I could undertake without going out of our pay scale. My argument would be that I'm planning to leave at some point within the next few months, and any new typist won't be able to do what I'm doing NOW, let alone any new duties. I think they're after a short-term fix, unfortunately, so that won't be a valid excuse (it's always an excuse with me, never a reason...), and obviously none of the work I'm supposed to be doing is of any actual value.
I hate this place. I hate Sandra with a fiery passion, all the more so because this morning she deliberately excluded me from the conversation by declaring it was for "over 30s only". It's not that I care about whatever sordid sex games she's been playing to result in bruised upper arms (presumably with the bloke she claimed to have already dumped a week ago), but it's the principle of the thing. I feel like I'm back at school, and not in the pleasant, rose-tinted nostalgia way. I had enough behaviour like this off fucking teenage bitches who had a vendetta against me; I don't need it in the workplace.
Well, hopefully she'll have someone else to pick on soon. I'm going to get my revenge on her somehow when I leave, whether that's going through my journal and making a log of everything she's ever done to piss me off and emailing to her and my supervisors, or something childish like leaving out of date food in her desk drawer or opening all of her chocolate bars when she's not there so they go stale. Whatever it is, it will be sweet, sweet vengeance.
Suggestions, of course, are welcome.