The Unbearable Shiteness of Being (At Work)

I am freezing.

Yes, I know it's Scotland.

Yes, I know my office is a manky hut on a hill, so poorly insulated that if it rains I swear it steams. (Well, OK, a touch of hyperbole, but...)

Yes, I am aware it is November.

But - it's cold in here!

And one of the side-effects of being cold is that it makes me hungry. I'm supposed to be eating more healthily too, but the local shop only sells rubbish - and I've already eaten my lunch. It's only 11:30.


I'm fantasising about a Double Decker. I won't have one, of course, but I can imagine one. And a bag of tortilla chips. And a plate of mashed potatoes, with onion gravy, maybe a sausage or two... A steamed pudding of some sort.. syrup... custard...*sigh* I'm not helping myself, am I?

Double bah.

Anyhow...Life is good - still! I still haven't managed to fix the towel rail I broke off the wall (by catching it on my pocket) and I need to give the kitchen floor a bloody good scrub, but home is the place I want to be more than anywhere right now. Me, Theo and the furry beasts. *sigh* But I'm at work in the hut on the hill, hungry and with only a crappy shop nearby to buy supplies...

Triple bah.

Do you think anyone would notice if I sloped off home?
- You rotten hope-dashing bastards...

(Oh, work is fine, really [obvious previously mentioned bits notwithstanding] but there was a woman on the bus reading a copy of Milan Kundera's magnum opus and I can almost never resist a pun.
- I listen to Radio 4, what can say?)