I am a fan of working from home as an alternative to sick leave, but as for actually working from home I hate it. I get lonely, I tend to work even longer hours (meaning rather than bounce into the office before 8am and bounce out again sometime after 6pm I tend to wake up at 6:30am, turn on my laptop and crack on) and I miss the buzz of the office. I might not actually ever get time to actually stop and gossip with my colleagues but the gossip goes on around me nontheless.
The only buzzing that's going on around here is the relentless construction noise. Oh brother.
We (The Boy and I) enrolled in a Group Repair Scheme for Leeds so essentially our entire street is covered in scaffolding for the next 6 months. The view out of my bedroom window is this.
As an imaginative little buggar I can pretend that I have a somewhat rustic balcony, or that I am looking out on to the deck of a ship from my cabin. But whilst scenes from An Affair To Remember or Now Voyager spool through my mind as I pull up my rainbow socks, I am suddenly confronted with a grubby construction dude in a bobble hat and a hi-vis jacket walking past the window in an attempt to score a cup of tea.
Illusions shattered much? Not much too much.
Then there's upstairs - the old Velux window is being replaced with a new one, but has currently been replaced by a blue vinyl tarp. I so badly want to Errol Flynn my way down it with a stanley knife but The Boy won't let me play on the roof. Equally there's a new slide that he won't let me play with because sensible people view it as a chute for construction rubble to be transported to the skip below.
And last but not least there's the noise. OH THE NOISE! The hammering, sawing, drilling, clatter of rubble and singing along to cheese fm is unspeakable. It would be made more fun if The Boy wasn't such a spoilsport.
I was hoping to return to the office today but my litmus test was a trip to the cinema yesterday with my darling Nana. We went to drool over Colin Firth and the best of British (Helena Bonham Carter, Timothy Spall, Guy Pearce, Michael Gambon - they even sneaked Jennifer Ehle in which brought back many swoony Pride & Prejudice moments!) in The Kings Speech, took afternoon tea at Browns and then whilst waiting for The Boy to pick me up I casually wedged in a showing of The Black Swan. Both films were excellent and come highly recommended by yours truly.
Sadly my little outing did not prove that I was fit to be out of bed as I woke with glands swollen to the size of golf balls. It seems my immune system is about as rubbish as Britney Spears and instead of resisting germy things it's hoovering them up and inviting them to stay awhile.
I am hoping to kill them with lavender tea from Pickles and Potter, a peanut butter, banana and honey sandwich and some gloriously ripe plums. Go go gadget immune system!
I'm outie... Ziggy played guitarrrrrraaaaarrrrraaaarrrrrr.
Title: Diamond Dogs by David Bowie