B**locks! I swear that egg moved by itself this morning. It's two weeks early. It can't hatch yet. I can't keep it alive for TWO WEEKS., not without Fricka. And how will she know? Please.....not early, dead rather than early. Oh Havelock, where are you? It must have been my imagination, must have been.
Forgive me. It's just everything is so finely tuned down here that a couple of days can make all the difference and everything has always gone so smoothly. Please not this year. Not when I decided to do a blog! Please?
And if that wasn't bad enough, some bl**dy newbie's decided to start writing his PhD on station! You're here for research not to write your so**ing thesis! You cretin! He's been stuck in front of a computer clacking away for days. Um, excuse me? I've a blog to write if you hadn't noticed! Oh alright, you couldn't have but.......Eventually I had to ask Cozy (groan) to organise something. I said maybe I could get a second flare............Cozy's sitting on my egg right now. The gang? They're doing the conga up and down the bluff! The newbie's outside, tongue hanging out of his mouth, charting every move! They never learn!
Sorry, I'm a bit angry/anxious today.
The guys have been clearing snow off the rig these past few days and hopefully my little plan to get Aslan to conform to daddy's wishes will pan out. Cozy's going to organise the 'display' to co-incide with the chicks' general departure for the sea. "Something to tell their chick in the creche," he says. Cozy's attempt at 'artistic immortality', if you ask me! Ah well, he is minding my egg, must remember to check the flare box.
Spent about half an hour yesterday reading juvenile poetry on Yahoo. You know, "I'm thirteen and my boyfriend's just broke my heart!" I know, sad life I lead but there's only so much Sophocles you can read in one sitting. What struck me was even when it wasn't just formless nonsense, there appeared to be little concept of metre, ie the authors weren't reading the poem out loud to themselves, just writing. Now I don't 'hear' these words but I get the rhythm and it completely ruins it when the rhythm suddenly goes awry. I made a few suggestions. Ah well, you only get a few Shelleys in every generation.
I'll need to keep these short just in case. The last thing I want is MY chick imprinting on that wobbling tub of lard!
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