Saturday, 11 January 2003
OK, so this is technically Sunday the twelfth, but I'm putting it up under Saturday the eleventh because I've not slept yet. So there.
The Saturday Night of Doom. Crap TV. Watched "Taggart". Taggart's long dead... Read. Can't be bothered. Watched some "Allo Allo". Laughed. Played guitar. Got annoyed. *sigh*
My guitar's screwed up. I don't know what it is exactly, but notes played at the seventh fret are more buzz than noise. The second fattest string is the worst. I don't know if it's the strings, or the fret, or the neck, or tidal forces, all I know is it annoys me and I feel less inclined to play guitar. I went into Sound Control to see what the guy charged for looking at that sort of thing and he said between 15 and 65 quid, depending what was wrong with it. It probably won't reach 65 quid, and if it does I doubt I'll be paying it, but it does mean I have to drag myself and the guitar up to glasgow sometime, and hope that the guy is in. Today was the first time I've ever seen him in the place.
I'm still in need of a job. I've pretty much given up on anything even vaguely related to my degree, but I don't know what else I would even be able to stand. That work at Dee-Organ drove me potty, sitting there for 8 hours a day doing the same thing over and over and over. The best bits about that was when I'd done all *my* work and went to go help the guy wrap stuff up or move things about. This past week the majority of adverts in the jobs sections have been for nurses and councillor type people. Not much use to me.
My brother just heard an owl outside. So he's got the window open listening, trying to see if he can see it.
Well, till next time...