(no subject)
Nov. 3rd, 2004 09:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
essayel((Edited to say that I have no idea why my post hasn't got all the spaces I put in it - they've disappeared and won't come back! So annoying and very difficult to read. Apologies.)
Ghost stories - some like 'em, some don't. I don't. They give me that
awful 'eyes on the back of my head' feeling that is due solely to an
over active imagination and the knowledge that the place where I work
has seen countless horrors of the mundane every-day historical sort
that people like Stephen King don't bother with ("Hmmm, the Black
Death...No! Not scary enough. Hangng, drawing and quartering? No, not
enough screaming.") Consequently being asked to assist at our
Hallowe'en Ghost Stories night is one of my least favourite jobs.
Normally, I would just watch the door then carry on with some paperwork
while the actress who does the storytelling went 'whoooooooo' in the
dark then help the curator see everyone off the premises, lock up and
give her a lift home. This means I get a couple of hours overtime pay
and a head start on the accounts.
Last night, however, we only had 1 (that's ONE not a typo) attendee and
since he was the husband of an associate of the curator she refused to
cancel the event and because an audience of two is just plain
embarrassing she insisted that I join them. If she had asked me
privately I could have said, quite politely "No, fuck off," but since
she insisted in front of the other two - "Oh don't be such a wuss come
and sit down now - and take your fingers out of your ears!" - I had
little choice. And the bloody guest was a sceptic as well and kept
saying "mass hysteria", "marsh gas" or "there'll be a rational
scientific explanation for that". I just hope he enjoyed it more than
we did because it didn't cost him a penny and he had the undivided
attention of three highly trained experts (OK, but the ability to
bullshit about history at the drop of a groat is a skill worthy of note
I reckon even if I don't have a string of letters after my name).
I will get my revenge. She's going away on holiday tomorrow and while
she is away the decorators are coming in to repaint all of the top
floor including her office. This means we have to move all the
bookshelves away from the wall then move them back so her office is
tidy for her return.
Let's have a poll - (I have no idea how to make
one but never mind)
What shall I paint on the wall behind the bookshelves?
1) a plot bunny
2) "Rache" in big drippy red letters
3) Repent
4) A cheerful little message for the next set of painters who come in.
Childish I know but just the thought of it makes me feel better.
In other news - I have only written 800 words to my Half a Nano attempt
so I'm already behind schedule. But then I also owe bits of writing
elsewhere. Give up sleeping perhaps?
Ghost stories - some like 'em, some don't. I don't. They give me that
awful 'eyes on the back of my head' feeling that is due solely to an
over active imagination and the knowledge that the place where I work
has seen countless horrors of the mundane every-day historical sort
that people like Stephen King don't bother with ("Hmmm, the Black
Death...No! Not scary enough. Hangng, drawing and quartering? No, not
enough screaming.") Consequently being asked to assist at our
Hallowe'en Ghost Stories night is one of my least favourite jobs.
Normally, I would just watch the door then carry on with some paperwork
while the actress who does the storytelling went 'whoooooooo' in the
dark then help the curator see everyone off the premises, lock up and
give her a lift home. This means I get a couple of hours overtime pay
and a head start on the accounts.
Last night, however, we only had 1 (that's ONE not a typo) attendee and
since he was the husband of an associate of the curator she refused to
cancel the event and because an audience of two is just plain
embarrassing she insisted that I join them. If she had asked me
privately I could have said, quite politely "No, fuck off," but since
she insisted in front of the other two - "Oh don't be such a wuss come
and sit down now - and take your fingers out of your ears!" - I had
little choice. And the bloody guest was a sceptic as well and kept
saying "mass hysteria", "marsh gas" or "there'll be a rational
scientific explanation for that". I just hope he enjoyed it more than
we did because it didn't cost him a penny and he had the undivided
attention of three highly trained experts (OK, but the ability to
bullshit about history at the drop of a groat is a skill worthy of note
I reckon even if I don't have a string of letters after my name).
I will get my revenge. She's going away on holiday tomorrow and while
she is away the decorators are coming in to repaint all of the top
floor including her office. This means we have to move all the
bookshelves away from the wall then move them back so her office is
tidy for her return.
Let's have a poll - (I have no idea how to make
one but never mind)
What shall I paint on the wall behind the bookshelves?
1) a plot bunny
2) "Rache" in big drippy red letters
3) Repent
4) A cheerful little message for the next set of painters who come in.
Childish I know but just the thought of it makes me feel better.
In other news - I have only written 800 words to my Half a Nano attempt
so I'm already behind schedule. But then I also owe bits of writing
elsewhere. Give up sleeping perhaps?