It's raining, it's pouring...

...and I bloody well wish I was snoring; I can barely keep my eyes open.

I've just had to turn down an interview because I can't make the sole date they're offering; I think a choice of one day with only four days' notice is a bit rude, really.

Looking forward to going away for the weekend for one of my friend L's inimitable houseparties, and hoping that the weather there will be better than here. But in the shorter term, what I'm mainly looking forward to is my bed. How sad is that?

Hewitt may close 'unpopular' hospitals

This has just caught my eye, and I had serious difficulty in not yelling out loud in the middle of the office. When are this government going to work out that hospitals (and for that matter schools) are not department stores? As far as medicine is concerned, I'm really not convinced that extensive patient choice is sensible or desirable, since the average Briton a) knows sod all about health and medicine and b) thinks he/she knows loads. And even if it is, just because a service is not used very much doesn't, as far as I can see, mean it isn't necessary. Yet another example of the tyranny of the majority.

Sunny Non-Delight

Gah. It's a beautiful sunny Friday morning. I want to be in my garden reading the paper and drinking coffee with a leisurely breakfast, not in here dealing with awkward bastards and people who neither answer their phones nor switch them to voicemail.

I suspect that my discontent is somewhat motivated by this book which I was reading on the train this morning.

Thursday, I don't care about you

The Happy Job Saga continued on Tuesday with the arrival of the letter notifying me of the non-renewal of my contract. Which was nice, or rather not; even though I knew it was coming, it was still unpleasant in writing.

I'm writing this to avoid actually getting my head round the large task which I've inherited from my holidaying colleague. Procrastination is, of course, another of the less marketable skills I picked up at university. Or rather honed; it was in the genes all along. I'm sure the project would be quite manageable if I'd had control from the start, but getting my head round someone else's way of doing things is involving far too much effort for my taste. Plus, since I am now effectively working my notice, the small amount of motivation I ever had for this menial job has evaporated entirely.

Still, I have a free night tonight to eat takeaway and watch rubbish telly, so it's not all bad.

Monday, Monday (part two)

My pessimism turned out to be correct, rather than my misplaced attempts at self-delusion. Yet another interview ends in abject failure. The truly infuriating thing is that, following some great advice from a recruitment consultant friend, I thought I'd performed much better, sold myself well, and got myself in with a chance. Turns out not. They'd bloody better give me some feedback, though. You wouldn't believe till you've tried it just how hard that can be to wring out of the average HR department (the words blood and stone come to mind), and when one does succeed it's often stuff like "your application was very strong but another candidate was felt to be more ideal for the post" which makes me, at least in my post-rejection paranoia, think that the real answer is more likely "we don't like your face" or "your Scottish accent would annoy our suppliers". So if anyone knows just what it is that's currently making me unemployable, do please tell - because employers won't!

Monday, Monday

...so good to me. Or not.

The Motivation Fairy has not visited me this morning. As well as all the usual bits and pieces I've a couple of bigger projects which need attention, but I simply can't be bothered - I think my brain is still at home in bed. Certainly there's something wrong when I can barely summon the will to apply for jobs. On which topic I'm still waiting to hear about the post I was interviewed for ten days ago, despite assurances that I would be told by the end of last week. I'm trying to convince myself that this is a good sign, but considering that self-delusion is one of my most advanced skills (although sadly not a marketable one), I'm not doing a very good job.

Roll on five o'clock.

Bleugh

Why did I do that? I'm incapable of working this morning.

Still, I've learned my lesson. Next time, I'll take the Friday off.

Why am I still awake?

I have to go to work in the morning... I am really, really going to regret this in the morning. Oh, hang on, it is the morning. Still... Here's my view so far

Good bits:

• the SNP taking the Western Isles (I know that's not what it's called, but it's quarter to three - I can't spell Gaelic at this time of the morning)
• the Lib Dems taking Dunbartonshire East
• all the other candidates in Glasgow Central refusing to share the platform with the BNP candidate
• the result in Blaenau Gwent showing Millbank that they really shouldn't impose candidates.
  

Bad bits:

• Nick Griffin's 4,240 votes in Keighley
• Malcolm Rifkind getting back into Parliament (real blast from the past there, and not in a good way)
• Jeremy Paxman
• Boris Johnson.

Bring it on!

I've got my bed, my laptop and my television: I'm all set for the night.

I'm really going to regret this in the morning.

The Liberal Democrats seem to be doing pretty well, so it'll be interesting to see what happens as the night goes on. Damn. If it was only boring, I could go to sleep. Why am I addicted to election television?

Election!

I am absurdly excited about voting. It's only the second time I've been able to vote in a General Election, and the first time I've voted at home (in the last Scottish Parliament election I had a postal vote) and now, thanks to the boundary changes, we live in a seat that's actually a competition, rather than the old safe Labour seat with Blairite toady MP. Unfortunately it's also one of the constituencies that never manages to declare until 11am on Friday; the ones in grey in the morning papers' 'Map of the New House of Commons'. Still, at least we're actually having an election today, unlike the unfortunate electorate of Staffordshire South.

And remember, if you don't vote, I'll come round to your house and beat you.