In the office at work where the youth team live there is a clapped out radio. It has a paperclip as an aerial and the CD lid is hinge-free. It spews out Real Radio all day. Occasionally, for a change, it plays Forth One.
If I hear Mika one more time I might go postal. As for Gwen Stefani, well, I've heard her wailing one too many time: she is not my favourite girl, so she's right there...
Anyway, whenever I am left in the office on my own I play a little game: I re-tune the radio to Classic FM.
Apart from finding it relaxing, inspirational, complex, mood enhancing stuff -usually without any niggling asinine words to distract me from putting together project descriptions, grant proposals, case-notes etc (and it doesn't help anyone when you are planning for a serious meeting with the high heid yins to have Take That's "Whine"-sorry- "Shine" running through your head)- it amuses me no end when someone else from the team does a double take and pulls the horrified, "oh no- Culture!" face.
OK, so they immediately re-tune the radio to something poppy, but I chalk it up as a small victory, nonetheless.
Little things... I know.
In other news, the Furry Baby Bun isn't entirely well. To be precise, she seems to have ISS (Intermittent Soft Stools) - a sort of bunny IBS, I suppose. Theo and I are both worried about the vast quantities of pappy poop she is passing, so we are taking her to be seen by the BFV (Big Friendly Vet). She is binkying and gnawing as normal, so we aren't yet scared for her life, but it is nonetheless worrying. It can be stressful being a parent...
