Memory Failure
While walking across the green outside our house this evening – en route to the corner shop to buy drinks and snacks to get us through England playing in the World Cup quarter final – I thought of something I had missed at work – a part of the development project I am working on. I can't remember what it was now – I know I thought of something, and thought to myself at the time “you need to remember this” – but of course it's gone – and I'm kind of furious with myself.
My brain is a mystery unto itself. Just as I finished writing the paragraph above, the thing I had told myself to remember re-appeared in my head. It's now written down in the bullet journal – something to look at in the morning.
Yes, I'm still using a bullet journal, despite multiple dalliances with productivity apps, websites, and whatever else. There's just something about writing things down that works for me. Earlier in the week I sat at my desk at work, and the managing director sat down next to me to talk something through – and commented on my using paper and a pen to work things out. He does the same – we wondered if it might be a generational thing.
On about work – we hired somebody new this week – a young lad that's been helping out with a data migration project. He was hired to complete a relentless task that a human could perform far better than a computer – fixing the crazily broken data from an old system while transferring it to a new one. While chatting with him one afternoon it dawned on me that he had the exact skill set that we've been unsuccessfully seeking in somebody for MONTHS – we have wasted SO much time doing interviews it's unreal. I opened a chat window with the HR manager and quietly tipped her off. Five days later he has been hired. I wonder if I'll get a finder's bonus?
There's something rather sobering about him not being born when I became a software developer.
As hinted at earlier, we were invited to a friend's house this evening to watch the World Cup again. I bought a bottle of wine, some cartons of juice, and snacks from the local shop along the way to their house. On the way back from the store we encountered a stag beetle on the footpath – there's a photo of it on Instagram if you're interested – I also reported it on a website that tracks endangered species. I had no idea they were endangered until my other half mentioned it earlier in the week. This beetle was really not too pleased with me taking photos of it – rearing up to show me it's impressive pincers, and turning around like an armored exo-skeleton from a science fiction movie.
Anyway. It's getting late. Somehow it's half-past eleven. Where on earth did the evening go ?