It seems my iPod is working again, after I’d resigned myself to shipping ti back and getting a replacement, so it’s time to drop Faerie Stories and Nocturama across, and build a few new playlists before heading out in to the world. Smart Mobs arrived today, so I think I’ll try and leave early for the pub, and get a bit of time to read and think.

I was talking to Andrew last night about my next web project (and yes, I am aware that every single one I’ve mentioned in the last 18 months has failed to materialise). I’ve been re-tooling Thoughtbombs in my head for a while now. The initial idea is still there – the single, short weekly essay on just about any topic, that’s still the core of it. I don’t have the time to commit to more than that (not that I’d be writing them, but simply in terms of commisioning and managing the content) but I want to expand it out a bit past that, form it into a sort of community based thing, but on a slightly different model. So I’m going to have a look through Smart Mobs, and see if that sparks anything off in my head.

It’s going to be at least 18 months before I really get around to this in earnest, but it’s just something to think about, build the systems for, and generally have ready for when I’ve got the time. But it also means that I’ve got lots of time to make it clever and unique. Hence, the reading and re-modelling as I go.

Tomorrow I pay off a loan, and legally take up residence in the flat. And on Sunday, I’m going to start putting our new network together, in preparation for Broadband on Monday. Have a good weekend, folks.

Worried about the dreadful lessons movies teach children today? So are these people.

Tonight, I am mostly feeling petulant. I’m really not proud of this. Allow me to explain:

Fin has an interview for art college coming up, so she’s had to get a portfolio to take her work around with her. It’s quite heavy. So I thought I’d surprise her on her way home from work, and carry her portfolio back to her place for her, before heading home to do the the jobs I needed to do tonight. So I bought my ticket from the office to Wallington, where she lives, and then hopped off the train at West Croydon, because I knew she’d be on that route home, and about what time she’d be there. I couldn’t leave the station, but I could wait on the platform.

So I waited there for half an hour, and then assumed I’d missed her, and chuckled ruefully that my good deed had gone a bit wrong. I got a bit worried when I phoned her at home to have a laugh about it, and she wasn’t in, but figured that maybe she’d had to work late, and I’d missed her in the other direction.

Turns out that no, I hadn’t missed her – she’d gone from work to a friend’s birthday party. She’d completely forgotten it was that friend’s birthday until her sister rang to remind her. So, y’know, just one of those things.

And there is where the childish bit comes in. See, I dislike the friend in question. Now, I know it wasn’t her fault, or indeed, anyone’s fault. It was, as I say, just one of those things. And still, there’s a nasty childish part of me that blames her. That’s annoyed at her for blowing my good deed. That’s put out with her that I sat for half an hour in the freezing bloody cold, and took much longer to get home than I should have. I know it’s not her fault. I don’t blame her, not really – I mean, it’s her birthday, for christ’s sake – of course she’s entitled to a good day on her birthday, with her friends about her. I wish her a happy birthday. But still, I’m feeling childish and petulant, and a tiny part of me wants something to go wrong for her tomorrow, just to get a bit of petty revenge.

Not really very grown up, is it?

I love the London Underground. I love to travel by tube. The only time a delay really bothers me on the tube is if I’ve arranged to meet someone – if it’s a commute to or from work, or if I’m just going somewhere in London on my own, I really don’t mind the delays – I’m willing to deal with the fact that sometimes, things just go wrong. As a general rule, I’m grateful and sympathetic toward those who make the Underground work. (Part of this is that I don’t often have to commute by tube, the last few months notwithstanding.)

The central line is out of service for the next couple of weeks, and several of my friends are up in arms, screaming and ranting. Were I still in my old job, I’d be utterly fucked, and probably a bit put out myself. But still – it’s out of service for good reasons, like public saftey (read the government’s abject and cowardly refusal to put in the money it requires to actually bring the damn thing up to date). And still, it’s London Underground that are blamed.

So y’know, while everyone else is upset and hating the underground, I thought I’d take a moment to just reiterate: I love the tube. Even at rush hour.

Just for the sake of balance, y’know?

Anyone caught informing the world that “It’s Snowing”, or that it “Looked like it was snowing, but it didn’t settle” will be taken out the back and assaulted by a large number of crazed gila monsters.

I’m back in Tooting. Back home. It’s not the same flat as last time, but it’s back in with the same friends (well, Jamie’s gone, but, y’know, I got his room, so it’s not all bad), and in fact, the flat’s even nicer. So here I am, back on the right side of the Thames, back on the tube, and yeah, I’ve got unpacking to do, and I’ve got money hassles to sort out, but I just don’t care about any of that right now. I’m back where I ought to be, and I can get on with 2003.

It’s only Wednesday, and I’m shattered. Last night was my best chance for a decent night’s sleep between now and Saturday, and I blew it utterly. Well done, that man. So now I’m tired before I ever get to the pub tonight – going for a drink with the folk at my former employers. I’ve been meaning to say something about the shiny redesign they did the other month – aside from the huge swathe of orange across the page if you’re not logged in, looks gorgeous. Clean, modern, elegant, and fits loads on the page without being confusing, although I have the nagging sense that the small blue header bars aren’t all the aligned quite right.

Anyway, must leave for beer.

Via Hugh, I find that Cafepress are planning to seriously expand their product range. Of particular interest, are print on demand books, CDs and DVDs. If the prices on these are right, this is going to be very interesting indeed…

I found my P45, after all that. Result!

It’s been a long few days. Fin and I were both tired and cranky this evening, so it didn’t help to get home to my mother giving me an earbashing for having lost my P45 (or at leat the part I have to give my new employer). I know I’m a complete tit already, thanks. I’m already annoyed enough at myself, and worried at the prospect of paying more tax than I need to for at least the next while. I don’t need any further opprobrium heaped on me, especially not in the mood I’m in tonight.

Anyone know if there’s anything I can do to avoid having to fill out a P46 and paying more tax than I have to, if I really have lost my P45?