Review

I had my feedback review at work, or what-ever it is called. This one was a weirdly pleasant experience. Well pleasant in parts.

Given that I don't want to be working there anymore that allowed me a bit of freedom in what I said. So we went through the usual areas of things I could improve. Annoyingly writing came up again, which is annoying because I've not written anything in almost year.

I did point this out, and the point was conceeded. The other 'area for improvement' was on the production side of things. This I think comes down to a lack of explaining and communication. People want you to write plans down rather than juggle them in your head.

The big, and slightly shocking feedback is that one of the chaps I work for doesn't think I do anything. He has been acting weird ever since his engagement was announced, which might go to explaining this outburst.

I dealt with the issue, in my feedback but I sense a clash is coming up. Not as a counter attack or anything from me, but he is just getting so fiery towards everyone.

The big moment in the feedback session thing was when I told my boss that I wanted to move to London. I said the job wasn't going anywhere, and that I've lived in the wilderness for nearly two years and I don't have a single friend outside of work. I said I'd been talking to the London office about jobs.

He took it rather well I think, thanked me for my honesty and said he'd would also see if anything came up. I imagine at some point the editor will take me to the side and have a chat with me about it, but I'll just be honest too.

Thing is, I don't want to spend the rest of my life in the wilderness and while playing with motorbikes is fun, it isn't everything to me.

So yes, very productive feedback thingybob, I think, but I doubt it's over yet. I'm sure there will be aftershocks, but since the lease on the cottage over and I'll be moving back to tiny little gigs that cost nothing. Well if I got asked to leave I'd just contact a direct competitor and said 'Would you like to win the battle over the internet?'

I'd bet a bottle of gin that I could do it too.

Gym of death

The gym mission continues. I'm starting to get a bit bored of it though. I think I need to move to a new gym, or find someone new to lust after.

Actually that's a bit of a weird one but I'm not really in the mood for girls at the moment. The last one wasn't awful or anything but I just can't see the appeal. That's a bit of a sign isn't it?

Anyway, I was in the gym yesterday doing my now traditional Monday spaz out. I'm usually a bundle of energy on Mondays so I have to go extra bananas to sort of use up that energy.

This took the form of the tread mill. Which I've not really used much. I put it on 14, which might be 14kph but might not. Either way it was a pretty solid gallop, not a jog by any means.

At 7 minutes I stopped and measured my heart rate which was 181bph, or just shy of a heart attack according to my chum the medic. I think this means I'm not allowed to run that fast for that period of time, or perhaps I need to work up to it first.

My heart rate dived afterwards, and I felt fine so I don't think I've killed myself or anything. Still it's quite exciting to reach the limit of something. On the plus side, and this is a mega plus my knee wasn't weird or anything. It's a bit tingly today but fine which is excellent.

I'll be spending all of today in a van in Wales which is less excellent so I suppose that shows that in everything there is balance.

Work tries harder

Work has been surprisingly skill in the last week. Shockingly so. It's as if 'work' knows I'm planning to leave it and it's doing a last ditch attempt to keep things together. You know, fancy underwear, flowers etc.

The main example of this is tests. I work at a magazine based around a specific hobby and it's products. It's a big, hobby shared by quite a few chaps. Anyway. On the magazine we have a few people who are employed to test these products. They get flown around to hot countries to test new things and are constantly sent new things to test. It's amazing the life style they lead. I think only A grade rock stars get treated better. They still moan about how hard things are for them.

Anyway, sometimes they need other people to help test these things. Which means a day out of the office doing the hobby and having a nice time. I've never been invited on one of these tests, but I've helped film one or two.

On Monday I was selected to take part in a three-part mega test which will be inspired by a well known TV show lets call it Highest Ratio. This TV show features three chaps who are into a method of transport messing about and completing challenges.

I'm going to be working on a three part feature like that, which will also be filmed. Two senior testers are involved and they want japes and misadventure. I'm a bit nervous, just because I've always stayed behind the camera in the past because I'm a bit too posh for our beloved readers.

This could be a bit of a turning point, it will give me a great portfolio piece and for the first time in about five years an up to date show reel.

Blimey eh?

Endings

My time in the cottage is nearly over, and hopefully by extension my time in the wilderness. Hurrah.

Slightly less hurrah is the break-up of the thing with the hat. It was the right thing to do for a whole range of reasons. I won't go into them but the fact there was a range of reasons is fairly telling. Ho-hum.

I'm going to be single for a bit. It's a life choice, no really it is. Okay I'll list some reasons why things ended.

* She told boring stories
* She hated The Flight of the Conchords
* She didn't like my suits
* Or my fancy underpants
* She wanted me to call her a few times every day
* We spent some time apart and I was perfectly happy.

So there you go.

George Orwell's haircut

I've got a new haircut. I LOVE IT. it's a sort of 1930s haircut, short back and sides but messy on top. It's great. George Orwell would approve.

I can't remember that last time I was so pleased with a trim. To add to the fun, if I apply a bit of Brill Cream I can sport a proper Chap Magazine approved hairstyle. Ding dong.

Speaking of hairdressers. Has anyone noticed that the can have a wealth of nicknames that make them sound so dangerous? For example:

'Oooh who is your stylist? That look is fabulous?'

Can become

'Nice barnet, who is your scissorman?' Or my personal favourite 'I like the new look, who is your cutter?'

It makes it sound a bit Guy Richie.

I celebrated the new haircut by going and buying some new fancy pants and another tight t-shirt. They are my new weakness. I've still got to shift a few more pounds, which isn't helped by me needing a near constant supply of chocolate while I write, but still. I'll just hit the gym harder next week.

I've also been playing around with vegatables a lot. Not in a sexy way, but with my new grill machine. Courgettes are amazing grilled. So good that when you eat them you have to do a little dance. I eat them a lot now.

The cottage is far more pleasant in the summer. You can forgive it a lot more. I'll be almost sad to see the back of it now. Although not so sad to see the back of the garden. The hedges needs more attention than my girlfriend. Also concrete is no replacement for grass. I don't think anyone would consider and afternoon lounging around on the concrete with the Sunday papers.