Deliciously Incongruous #

27 February 1999

There’s something deliciously incongruous about casual day, which results in a feeling somewhere between comfort and self-consciousness. How is it possible to feel “normal” carrying a briefcase whilst wearing jeans, jersey and Doc Martens? It’s a bizarre halfway house situation, but nevertheless it’s vaguely enjoyable, and benefits charities. Also, I’m beginning to think my temperament is better on dress-down days, and maybe even my productivity (OK, so maybe not..!) It still doesn’t come close to being as fun as the last day of term at primary school though, when everybody brought in a board game to play…

Well, my software was still falling over spectacularly when I snook off home at 14:45. The bugs seem to be getting smaller, though - more forgivable if not necessarily easier to find. But I’d worked the hours I’m contracted to, so I beat retreat for a quiet weekend.

Earlier in the day, over coffee, a colleague had asked me “So where are you drinking this weekend?”, which amused me. Perhaps I need a bagger’s map of the UK, to colour in the towns and cities in which I’ve been on weekend benders a la piss. It’s sociable though, and keeps friendships alive, so I don’t begrudge driving around the country to drink the same beers in different places, in fact I love doing so. But this weekend it’s a different story - a quiet time at home, alone, catching up on odd jobs and doing a little reading. Supremely relaxing, I hope.