Too damn hot

Too damn hot yesterday. And last night. I’m going to go evaporative cooler shopping.

There’s a parent at the school who looks like Billy Connolly when he was in his beardless phase, complete with the windswept and interesting long grey hair. But he has an Australian accent.

There’s another parent at the school who looks like Age humour writer Danny Katz. But that’s because he really is Danny Katz.

Kathmandu’s big sale is on again. They managed to make the prices of the down sleeping bags on page 13 of their catalogue
(at least on paper) completely illegible. Their graphic designer should be shot for thinking red on dark blue is a good idea. Luckily I don’t need a sleeping bag anyway.

TV crews always ask to film "walk pasts" after doing interviews, but never seem to use them. In their vaults must be thousands of hours of footage of people walking. Past.

A work colleague gleefully told me the other day that the housing market’s going into a downturn (thank you Ian Macfarlane) and it’s got me looking at real estate again.

The lady in the corner who continually uses the speakerphone hasn’t twigged yet that I’m not the only one it’s bugging. Especially on occasions like this morning when it’s blaring across the office, and can be heard halfway down the hallway from behind multiple partitions. She may have apologised to me, but several others were left seething.

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