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Monday 12th Dec 2005
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Today seemed like a long day, partly (or largely) on account of travelling to Lancaster in the early afternoon. I was at work for a few hours, but then got a train at 12:44, I think it was. There were many trains available to get me to Lancaster that day, but this particular train entailed a single change at Manchester Picadilly, thereby avoiding any problems at Preston (save for the train derailing there or something). The interview at **** (insert name of Lancaster-based academic facility here) began with a half hour test (mainly SQL-related) followed by a three-person (do I say three-panel? Three person panel? Triptych? No, not triptych) interview. I think being interviewed by three people would have intimidated me once . . . now it's the questions they ask that I worry about. Yeah, so . . . after that, I walked along Barton Road, to my parents house for dinner. M**** and A****** turned up about half an hour after me. I feel like I'm missing out loads of stuff here. Maybe it's not of much consequence to anyone the minor observation I experienced whilst walking uphill, along the path to **** (ditto): the faint odour of the animal processing plant that is Nightingale Farm. The smell reminded me of being made to play rugby up at the Douthwaite (?!) Fields of the LRGS, perhaps about 18 years ago. There was hardly any wind in the air, no clouds, so I wondered how long the smell had settled at that altitude for. Ah well. So, erm . . . where was I? Something about minor consequences. Oh . . . and there's loads of pictures on my camera from the weekend. It was a kind of Leeds night out M**** birthday celebration thing, you see. Anyway, better go. I think my work here is done. The awful smell in the fridge was an old block of Stilton, in case you were wondering.
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