In Pursuit Of Trivia.

Holy tit fuck.

I'm away from my computer for two days, and when I come back, first I read this. As if that wasn't bad enough (which, I can assure you, it was), then I read this.

Which, not surprisingly, knocked me more than a little upside the head. And the media may think I'm lacking perspective here, but personally the fact that one friend is breaking up with her girlfriend of nearly six years and another nearly died is one fuck of a lot more important than some stupid fuss over a book some butler wrote.

Yeah, OK, one day I'll learn, the media will never change.

So anyway, y'all head over to Trina's and Daisy's guestbooks and shower them with hugs and stuff, because they are both in need of the good vibes. They are both really cool people and I don't talk to either of them nearly enough (rassin' frassin' time differences). At times like this regardless of the fact that realistically I know that they both have far more important things and people to worry about I just wanna talk to them because otherwise I'm just like powerless to help. Or something. And that probably comes out sounding more selfish than it's meant.

I'm sorry, I'm gonna move on, because otherwise I'm just gonna write myself around in circles.

I had lots to update, but now it all seems pretty damn trivial.

So, to trivialise...

Saturday afternoon I delivered Anne's "new" PC. I then had dinner with Anne and Jess (who, in "deference" to Jess' Mum I will collectively refer to as the LLC, for Lovely Lesbian Couple) before taking them to see Alison play at the Walsall Campus of Wolverhampton University, formerly Wolverhampton Polytechnic, a.k.a. Wally Poly. This was the first time Alison has performed playing her Tenor Sax (as well as the first time either half of the LLC had seen her perform at all).

After that I took the LLC home, and then got tricked into watching the end of Pop Idol and the beginning of some trash with Michelle Collins in. Speaking of Pop Idol, and the pretty lady who was voted off this weekend, seeing on the front of the tabloids that she had apparently indulged in some "boob-kissing" with one of the other female contestants served well to take the edge off my Monday morning. Yes, I know I was moaning about the tabloids earlier. I know I'm a hypocrit. Go figure.

Anyway, back to Saturday.

After the concert and Pop Idol (mmmm, boob-kissing) and Michelle Collins, I drove to Alison's parents', there to join Alison and her parents. This is where it gets complicated. Or rather, this is where I explain how complicated Saturday had been. Alison drove herself to Walsall to rehearse on Saturday afternoon. I drove to Anne's, then took her and Jess to Walsall to see Alison (and the rest of the wind orchestra) play. Alison's parents had also driven down to Walsall to see the concert. Alison followed her parents back to theirs. I followed after an hour or two later.

But surely, I hear someone at the back cry, that means you travelled up there in two cars. Isn't that wasteful and decadent and all those things about cars and using them that you hate in the world?

Well, yes and no.

You see, today I had to go to Preston. Preston is way up North and, most importantly from my point of view, the other side of Birmingham from here. Travelling up there this morning from here would've meant getting round Birmingham in the Monday morning rush hour. Fuck dat. Alison's parents are also on the other side of Birmingham from here. So Alison and I stayed at her parents last night too, and this morning Alison travelled back and straight to work (with where she works being kinda halfway round Birmingham in a loose attempt for me not to feel guilty kinda way) and I travelled on to Preston, not having to worry about the lovely M6 in the Monday morning rush hour.

The client site I was visiting was for one of those clients who I don't actually want to work for directly. You know, a defence client. I wasn't actually working for them directly though, I was providing sign language support for training a deaf employee. Since the deaf guy worked for said client I know I'm steering dangerously close to the wind in terms of going against my principles but given my appreciation of such difficulties I don't find it difficult to justify to myself.

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The above paragraph represents any observations I may have wanted to make that would technically constitute a criminal act, given that the site was neatly wrapped in the Official Secrets Act. I have no idea where the line should be drawn, so instead I've drawn lots of dots. As far as the signing itself went, it was fairly straightforward. The guy was a good lip-reader, which helped, and mostly all I ended up doing was telling the trainer to slow down when he talked too fast.

And then I drove home, and when I got back all that became trivial.