The Good Liar / Threatened by a cyclist
Jack woke me at 8:45, I'd forgotten that my watch alarm doesn't wake me while I've got this bad ear. After spending ages looking for my keys, which I'd actually carefully put in a side part of my purse, I ran to work, but with my stiff back, it took 37 minutes. When I got in, I found I hadn't left any clothes there on Friday after all. (Jack took them home for me as I dressed up for the drink). So for the second time in a few months I had to go and buy an emergency skirt, managing to get one a bit different than last time from the same shop - and a better fit - and this time I had to buy a shirt as well. After my shower I eventually started at 10:45.
I'd seen three girls in micro mini-skirts before I even got to Crowndale Road. As its got colder, everyone wears thick jackets, scarves and jumpers, so revealing the thighs is the only remaining way to look sexy - maybe with added knee-boots or long socks. Nice! Meanwhile, Helen at work seems to have become a more reliable micro-mini wearer as she gets more senior. And there was a classic incident near my drawer, when the high-heels glasses blonde leant forward, facing away from me, and her wide skirt attractively rose up behind her to darng full-thigh height.
Met Jack quickly at lunchtime so he could give me my jacket, and had to buy a third replacement charging lead for my annoying phone with its rare port size. The last one has quickly frayed so it won't work, and the previous one I think I lost at work despite having my name on, and despite no-one else using that port size. I needed to charge my phone quickly as it was required for a workshop where we would get our new laptops and migrate to Office 365.
The workshop was useful and the laptop seems much quicker. Catherine, the ginger girl who wears old-fashioned dresses was there. Met Jack after work and we walked the quiet way (my cycle route) to Covent Garden. Got some thick lentil soup at Pure and went to see The Good Liar. It was a well-structured film, on one level a romance between older people, while also a crime thriller showing that people maybe aren't who they seem. The denouement slightly stretched the bounds of plausibility.
Afterwards we were walking down Charing Cross Road when a cyclist came past and shouted at me for being in his way. Usually I would ignore this kind of thing and look completely unfazed, which is quite effective, but this time I told him he shouldn't be on the pavement. As we went towards a cafe he called me a c'nt, I said "yes I've got one" , and he followed us into the cafe. Jack stood between us with his arms folded and just looked at him, expressionless. After threatening us both, the man left. A surprisingly attractive transvestite came to see if we were all right. But when we left, I left my running shoes in the cafe.
When I got home, I had to take pictures of the cupboard where the block CCTV is going to be. Last night I got a message saying they needed the key this morning, I said I'd phone this morning, but after getting up late, I forgot. Luckily they'd written to say it was actually Thursday they needed it.
There are now two lifts not working in the office, out of four. So I walked up the stairs twice today. The main door isn't working either: there's a big notice on it to tell you so. But Jane still tried to use it.