Stalkers of the Dedicated Experimentalist,
Everything is moving so fast. I just want to catch some news and learn something. I feel starved of information.
It’s only a PhD and not a real job. In many respects, I’m my own boss, and I’m a terrible boss. By the time that I’ve come home and had dinner, I feel ready for bed. I feel like I have loads to do at work, I have my own experiments to do, I have reports to write, I have to hang around overlooking the other PhD student’s experiments so that I can learn how to do that kind and I’ve also been appointed as a potential expert on some other instrument accordingly I have to be trained (the current post-doctorate expert will be leaving and no one else knows how to man the instrument). I am probably a great hindrance to the other PhD student; my unique brand of comedy only entertains me.
There was a football tournament at work, I didn’t plan to be involved but I was swallowed up. The standard was markedly grim. I was teamed up with duffers. Two players on my team wore spectacles; I wear spectacles but at least I remove them to play sport. I think many of my co-workers seemed surprised that I was actually quite decent (by that, I mean probably the best player in attendance – it was that grim), no one expected much of me, probably because I wear spectacles and don’t say much. Anyway, I managed to direct the duffers to one victory and helped them to avoid overly heavy defeats in their other matches.
I have become obsessed with mammoth punts when playing football. I must irrationally whoosh the ball (and man) at random intervals. This resulted in a wonder goal on Friday night. I’ve played too much football this week: 330 minutes – about the only thing that I’ve done except work and sleep.
Saturday was anarchy. It was anarchy in Sainsbury’s in the morning. It was anarchy in Dundee in the afternoon. I do not care for anarchy but we need food, I need new footwear and Father required a gift for Father’s Day. Everyone in Dundee thinks they are in The View.
I played football on Sunday morning after watching Art Attack with Sir Neil Buchanan. In the afternoon, I walked to East Wemyss; I had to take advantage of “the weather window” – it’s to be rain all week. In the evening, it was F1 and La Liga.
It’s only a PhD and not a real job. In many respects, I’m my own boss, and I’m a terrible boss. By the time that I’ve come home and had dinner, I feel ready for bed. I feel like I have loads to do at work, I have my own experiments to do, I have reports to write, I have to hang around overlooking the other PhD student’s experiments so that I can learn how to do that kind and I’ve also been appointed as a potential expert on some other instrument accordingly I have to be trained (the current post-doctorate expert will be leaving and no one else knows how to man the instrument). I am probably a great hindrance to the other PhD student; my unique brand of comedy only entertains me.
There was a football tournament at work, I didn’t plan to be involved but I was swallowed up. The standard was markedly grim. I was teamed up with duffers. Two players on my team wore spectacles; I wear spectacles but at least I remove them to play sport. I think many of my co-workers seemed surprised that I was actually quite decent (by that, I mean probably the best player in attendance – it was that grim), no one expected much of me, probably because I wear spectacles and don’t say much. Anyway, I managed to direct the duffers to one victory and helped them to avoid overly heavy defeats in their other matches.
I have become obsessed with mammoth punts when playing football. I must irrationally whoosh the ball (and man) at random intervals. This resulted in a wonder goal on Friday night. I’ve played too much football this week: 330 minutes – about the only thing that I’ve done except work and sleep.
Saturday was anarchy. It was anarchy in Sainsbury’s in the morning. It was anarchy in Dundee in the afternoon. I do not care for anarchy but we need food, I need new footwear and Father required a gift for Father’s Day. Everyone in Dundee thinks they are in The View.
I played football on Sunday morning after watching Art Attack with Sir Neil Buchanan. In the afternoon, I walked to East Wemyss; I had to take advantage of “the weather window” – it’s to be rain all week. In the evening, it was F1 and La Liga.
posted by Leif at 10:43 PM
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