Ad rem...

Awww... hang all snively apologies! Yes - yes... call me irresponsible, shower me with your titters and tut-tuts and dismiss me to the flames of Blogger-Hell, but let me assure YOU - faithful Reader that the riverman~~~ is back with a vengeance... armed and not a little dangerous... rigged-out with a revitalised PC medicated with all manner of antivirus protections and, yes, pin-pricking-prepared to wreak havoc on the web yet again.

So away with anymore delay... let's dive into the update:

This is the riverman~~~'s new office...

...and therefore the place you will most likely find the riverman~~~ nowadays. Yes, it is beside a very big wharf, and yes, it is all very new and clean and tall and glassy and yes, it reflects the sky and its windows open into spectacular views of more windows that open into sterile grey towers where, yes, rows and rows of oppressed bankers huddle into their grey suits and stare into flickering screens where neon figures crawl up and down and from side to side, and yes, they forget the sunshine on grassy parks outside, the shimmer on the Thames and the yes, even the weekend jazz band that blares out a little summer into the air and drums a little heartbeat into the concrete...

But YES, rest assured though: the riverman~~~ stays the riverman~~~, and no ship-closing-deadline, two-week-long-training-programme or raspy throat from late night cafeteria pasta will divert me from the little things that make me grin... the things I hope you take time to grin about too!

Here are just a few examples:

The pub just 500 metres away from my desk... (yes, I measured!)... You simply KNOW you HAVE to go in!

Sexy Madame Moggy who sashays over to wish me good morning before I leave for work...

See, even strawberries have a sense of humour... I simply have to decide to notice...

It's a kind of magic that transforms greasy potato chips into light sabres...

And if all else fails, and the thought of yet another weekend in the office buried under paper and studying for an exam brings me down, I simply remember that I still have wonderful friends to spend my Friday evening with, drinking up the bar and realising how happy I am to be alive...


There now, becha you're smiling! Now, go get back to work! See you next week! Yes... yes... I promise!

(Oh, and by the way, I finally saw Harry Potter 5 last week... and in commemoration of that over-postponed and long awaited pleasure, I have embedded two very irreverent homages to the films for you to enjoy... so do!)

~~~

NEWS!

Ladies and Gents, Boys and Girls - the lo-o-o-o-o-ng silence is over. Let's get the latest report underway, which I will keep short and sweet:

(1) I have been offered fantastic offers from two wonderful firms. I am now perusing offer letters and making up my mind.

(2) I have just submitted my resignation letter to "SJ Burn-out" and had a little tete-a-tete with my supervising partner. She actually didn't scream! Sample of said resignation letter in the form I would have preferred to tender it follows:

__________________

SJ Burnout

*********

London

United Kingdom

EC*** ***

July 25, 2007

Dear "Unpersonable B*tch",

As required by my contract of employment, I hereby give you a calendar months' notice of my intention to leave my position as "Ego-massager".

After today's team building meeting, I find myself unable to take this company seriously any longer. I'm afraid I can't take being strategised, reorganised, empowered or re-engineered any more.

While I have a high degree of personal respect for you and the opportunities you have offered me, I am no longer comfortable working for an organization largely populated by politocrats, vengeful rivalries, and fiefdoms reminiscent of imperial Chinese literature. In fact, I dare say that I would rather be tied in a leather bag with ravenous, rabid ocelots than remain at this company any longer than the next four weeks.

You probably realise that I am not the first person to jump off this ship before it sinks. It is my hope that my leaving will save you enough money to install better coffee machines than the ones installed in that mess hall you call a restaurant.

I wish both you and the rest of "SJ Burnout" every good fortune and I would like to thank you for having me as part of your sorry excuse of a team.

Yours in sincere frustration,
"Now-that-I-have-finally-recovered-some-dignity"

______________

In commemoration of my impending escape from the gas chambers of SJ Burnout together with four other inmates, I have embedded a little video of a marching song we have come to love and sing on a regular basis at the parade square...

Last words for my "Camp Kommandant": "F*CK OFF!"

PS: Watch this space for the next update - which will be published very very soon.

~~~

Apologies to all whose sensibilities may be offended by the contents of this post. Blame it on the riverman~~~'s impeded judgement due to extreme irritation.

Quandary!

Not very long ago, I stumbled out of Gatwick Airport on a Sunday afternoon, tired out and sick to my teeth of all that plastic food those pastel shrouded Bedouin women on my Emirates flight shovelled into me. It's Thursday evening now, and things have remained status-quo, sans the Bedouin women and the indigestion of course.

I have been shunted from interview to interview, and within the space of three days I have covered 5 firms all claiming to be the best thing since sliced bread, and tackled questions from all directions - both mundane and insane... and asked questions in turn - both banal and inane.

I just escaped a firing squad of smirking partners and am now sitting at my desk, nursing my very fragile bullet-hole-riddled psyche. Right now in the quiet of my room in the office at 10 pm on a Thursday night, my mind is a confusion of "what to do" and "how to decide" and "what to choose"...

Nick Drake got all romantic about making choices:

Which will you go for

Which will you love

Which will you choose from

From the stars above

Which will you answer

Which will you call

Which will you take for

For your one and all

And tell me now

Which will you love the best.

Which do you dance for

Which makes you shine

Which will you choose now

If you won't choose mine

Which will you hope for

Which can it be

Which will you take now

If you won't take me

And tell me now

Which will you love the best.

(check out the very cool and funny YouTube link above to listen to the words)

Well the decision I have is hardly romantic, but nevertheless potentially life changing.

So Reader, I will let Nick go about it the romantic way, and leave

YOU

to tell me what to do!

Oh yeah, and don't give me that crap about everything being subjective and that it all depends on the individual and that it is not your place to tell me what to do... because the riverman~~~ declares that if YOU make the time to read this blog, then YOU have every right to gatecrash my meandering thoughts, and hopefully help me channel them more efficiently.

So go on and be brutally honest!

I am being wooed by 3 suitors - all very different. At this very moment all three are standing outside my door flourishing benefit packages and voluminous pre-nuptial contracts.

(1) Mr Filthy-Rich-Americano: Very prestigious and self-important. A real charmer and bit of a playboy. Lives in a very big marble and glass mansion with plush inch-thick carpeting and with expensive chandeliers lining each corridor and tall Swarovski vases littering each toilet cubicle. Demandingly insists I pledge my all my sleeping hours and weekends to him and swear my undying devotion to massaging his over inflated ego on a daily basis. Promises to wine, dine and blind me with flurries of $$$... which will all be very exciting... but will probably f*ck me over at a moments notice, work me to the marrow and leave me coughing up my lungs from too much stress induced smoking. Will probably refuse to believe it if I turn him down.

(2) Mr Earl-Grey-with-Lemon: Old fashioned and respectable fellow. Believes in fidelity till death. Is a stickler for routine and precedent. Promises me that I will always know what to expect. Lives in an old-fashioned Georgian town house furnished with "the nightingales that sing in Berkeley Square". Is much too old-fashioned and respectable to openly whisper sweet nothings in my ear, but promises me that he loves me enough to give me full medical insurance for the rest of my life with him. Reads the Times, votes Conservative and swears Marks & Spencers is "cool". Will give me a respectable allowance, and will leave me a respectable social calendar of middle/upper-middle-class relatives to celebrate family pot-luck dinners with and leave me respectably bored out of my mind. Will probably be very politely hurt if I turn him down but very predictably move on to the next person on his very old-fashioned list.

(3) Mr Superhero: A helluva good looking crusader for Justice, equipped with a cleft chin and positively overflowing with enthusiasm and ideals. Living in a humble country cottage in the suburbs but dreaming of moving into a mansion one day. Believes he "can fly", but does not have the money to purchase wings (or Red Bull for that matter). Spends most of his time getting ready for his BIG BREAK but getting sidetracked with rescuing kittens up a tree. High on Perspiration but low on Accomplishment... Strong on Aspiration... bordering on Irritation. A dozen plans ... but no idea where to start. Can only promise that he will try his best to give me all I need (so I guess my new car or that Gold Membership at Cannon's gym is out of the question), but pledges very sweetly that all marriage decisions will be made together. Will probably burst into tears if I turn him down.

So what do YOU think? What is a girl to do???

HELP????

Ps: Wonder who the 1000th visitor to this site is going to be!
~~~