Regrets and Remembrance

Okay, let's kick off with my regrets for today.

• I regret that I did nothing with my hair today other than pull it up into the sloppiest ponytail imaginable, now referred to in my head as a 'pony-FAIL.'
• I regret that I had so little breakfast, considering that it's now twenty past five and I still haven't eaten lunch.
• I regret that I chose to wear a prairie skirt on a windy day.
• I regret picking narrow shoes on the one day I walk to the bus, spend most of the working day on my feet (hence, swollen and rather tender), and then walk home from the bus via the supermarket. Ouch.

I do not regret wearing a dust mask in the archive store (thereby sparing my lungs from further torture), spending £3 on punnets of picota cherries, or joining the gym (Martin was an exceptionally nice and knowledgeable chap who somehow motivated me to exercise at 7.15am. He may be a miracle worker.)

Today's ups and downs are commemorated with the sad passing of a valued and dear colleague... my old friend, Ginger Le Brush. Ginger was with us for all too short a time, through thick and thin, until finally the stress of coping with spider's legs and half an inch of dust made him snap and lose his head. Literally.

Of course, I refer to the plight of the old sweeping brush at the archive store, whose accident yesterday saw him ineptly mended with parcel tape and then christened (my colleague kept telling me to 'gingerly brush' the floor with it, and things took off from there.)

Ginger, you were a good lad and you will be happy to know that your shiny new replacement Dandy is doing sterling work in your stead. Sure, his head doesn't droop and fall off at every given opportunity, and he's an attractive silver colour rather than various shades of rust and wood-rot, but it's just not the same.

We gave old Gingy a warrior's funeral and I'm sure that the dust in Valhalla will have nowhere to hide now he's up there giving it what-for.  Awwww.