Thursday, March 01, 2007

Life is a Cabaret, Old Chum

How long has it been? I don’t know; I’ve lost track.

It’s been a crazy week at work following work at the weekend following a busy week at work; I’ve been interviewing, I’ve been budgeting, I’ve been doing open heart surgery on the network (well, okay, replacing the central firewall!) Am just back from the second session of a photography course I’d booked myself onto, which was well worth the £90 it cost. Was out for the day on Sunday with a group of guys from Out who are forming a photography club (not as cheesy as it sounds, honestly!)

When I got back tonight, Rosie was in a lather; she’d been talking to one of her friends who’s just thrown her husband out of the house for allegedly having an affair. However, while the husband is certainly hot enough to be prime affair-having material, he’s actually always struck me as far too devoted a husband to do that kind of thing and too honest to deny it if he were and was confronted about it. But then, what do I know!? People are surprised about the depths of depravity that go on in my mind because outwardly I’m such a straight-forward guy, so I guess you can’t always judge by appearances. Either way, the evidence in this case sounds highly circumstantial so I hope they can work it out.

Brett is out at a Chorus meeting tonight but has hopefully spent the day finishing off a ‘code test’ he had to perform as part of his application for a job. I hope he gets it, if for no other reason than I think the cabin fever is really getting to him and these last few weeks we’ve hardly seen each other.

We went out to see Cabaret last night; Brett had been in town for lunch with Ping and had stopped by the half-price booth in Leicester Square afterwards. It’s been on our list since it opened but after the first half I was rather indifferent. The second half though was much stronger and the ending struck deep. I was pensive all the way home and just wanted to keep Brett close to me.

More interviews tomorrow. And more budgetting.

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