Friday, June 15, 2007

It Might As Well Rain Until September 

Outside my window it rains and rains. Rain all over Preston, rain all over England, relentless rain all over everywhere relentlessly.

I put on my wellies and waded over to the datacentre with a big tupperware box of cartridges to perform some restores, disaster recovery work.

Rex the security guard was standing where his potatoes used to grow, idly prodding the sodden ground with a garden fork. The rain beat down on his upturned face, his eyes closed, praying for drainage.
I stood a while with him, gazing skyward, the rain gathering into little streams running down my neck and inside my shirt.
“No sign of it stopping any time soon, then?” I said pointlessly, and went on my way.
He says he's never seen anything like it.

Neil, my former team leader, paddled by in a canoe on his umpteenth lap of the car park. “It Might As Well Rain Until September” played tinnily on his phone.

I've spent the last couple of weeks trying to keep my head down and just getting on with it.
Stella, my eighties style yuppie witch of a team leader, has given me a load of stuff to do which doesn't require too much thinking, which has suited me fine.

The other day Bill Surname CEO announced over the crackly bing bong that there'll be more redundancies down the pipeline. We've been promised our department is in the clear, that we won't be effected, but we've heard all this before. It's getting a bit monotonous and the news has barely caused a ripple.

I quite fancy a holiday.

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