That’s right, folks, I’m back in London, and our Internet connection has been restored by Virgin Media, in an operation so quick that it could have been done at any time over the past two weeks. No offence to the two guys who carried it out, though, as it’s not up to them; I even offered them a cuppa (that’s “cup of tea”, for any non-Limeys reading), but they declined. So now I can post stuff online from my own computer again without having to resort to a dongle (ooh, Matron!).
In fact, I might just take the night off — I’ve got exciting (ahem) meetup groups planned for all next week, and I’ll see if “best mate” wants to hang out, but right now, I feel like having pizza for dinner tonight (after some extensive exercise, of course), rather than going out to a drinks event arranged by a lady who runs a dating site who asked me out earlier this year (no chemistry, so we didn’t continue dating). I played Call of Duty: Black Ops II while I was offline last month, so it seems fitting to play it properly online now and get all those Steam achievements.
I expect my general laziness and introvercy to continue during the weekend, which means I’ll have time to catch up on posting here. Yes, instead of interacting with actual people, I’ll be spewing forth mountains of drivel at a few Internet users who might not even read it! I’ll also be able to research cloning my Windows 7 installation to a newer, bigger hard drive I bought just before we were cut off the Internet, an operation I’d planned for the Bank Holiday weekend but couldn’t do for obvious reasons. However, since I’m climbing on Monday after work, I’ll see about climbing on Saturday as well (at the Castle’s Session), so don’t fear for my physical health. I climbed twice with my mother during my self-imposed exile in Worthing, how’s that?
And people keep telling me I look great… well, unfortunately it’s just blokes who have said it so far, but I’m hoping that’s because I have more male acquaintances at the moment, and not because I’m becoming more attractive in a homosexual rather than heterosexual sense! Or, that the women I encounter are too embarrassed to compliment my appearance, because they’re English and therefore annoyingly reticent (my mother is an exception to this, but doesn’t count anyway because she’s my mother and thus required by law to say nice things about me!).
(Just kidding, Mumsy…)
Oh well, back to work on Monday… which reminds me: I got the train back to London last night (worrying that the guy who cut us off might not have waited in for the Virgin Media engineers — unnecessarily, as it happened), and as I got off the Northern Line here at Finchley Central, I saw a sign apologising for the terrible service on Thursday morning. Hmm, looks like I was lucky taking this week off after all — the morning of 12th August (which was just before I’d booked a day off to see the quack) was bad enough!