Bad Good Friday

Good Friday, 06 Apr 2012: Got up about 7.00, listened to Cistercian monks singing ‘Vespers of St Bernard’ and some Martinu Quartets, started writing my OU Assignment…I have to produce 2000 words identifying the challenges facing an organisation with which I am familiar, using the STEP, Stakeholder and 5-Forces frameworks.
In the news: former TV presenter Samantha Brick has claimed that women hate her because she is so beautiful and that ‘ten out of ten men at a dinner party would fancy me’. Obviously not going to the right dinner parties, then! And the NIESR claimed that the UK achieved 0.1 percent growth during the first quarter of 2012, meaning that we have escaped recession. Hurrah! Get the champagne out!
Meanwhile, Alex Hope, a 23-year old currency trader, has been arrested on suspicion of fraud. He recently went for a night out with friends and decided to buy a bottle of champagne costing £125000. I, on the other hand, am a 48-year old lab technician who considers it a bit flash if I spend more than seven quid on a bottle of Rioja.
And in London, 20 Met Police officers have been questioned about racist offences against members of the public. Darling, that’s so eighties!

Journal Entry, 10 April 1998: Good Friday. Il neige! Il pleut! Downstairs the door lock is broken; can’t get key in.
Yesterday Sheila and I went to Ciba in Macclesfield to see their labs (spacious and lavishly equipped) and their canteen (clean and smart with flowers on the tables) and their workers (hunky guy with Suzuki Bandit 600).
Went to Manchester on the train, went round Arndale Centre then to Rembrandt and Clone Zone and Paddy’s Goose – a gay Irish pub where everybody was watching footie on TV.
(Commentary: I remember this trip to Manchester, and the train journey – changing at Sheffield – going through the Pennines, with all the hill tops still covered in snow. Because it was Good Friday, the pub by the station was having a ‘666’ Death-Metal music night, with about five bands performing as a charity fundraiser. And in Clone Zone I bought a copy of ‘Call Me’, about a guy who places – and answers – loads of small ads. It’s a terribly dated book, with references to CD Walkman players and handwritten letters. Still good though)


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