South Park Self

lying alone with my head on the phone

Aargh. Technically I love structure, I'm a genre theorist and administer degree rules for a living. But this new boss exemplifies the particular kind of adherence to structure which is all about systems for their own sake, and which manages to divorce itself entirely from the human realities they're supposed to shape. She works in a weird management-speak idiom which I suspect is rooted in the British system where she's been working, and which doesn't really seem to connect in any meaningful way with the realities of our degree structures. She's going gung-ho into giant descriptive structural projects which seem, from where I'm sitting, to simply duplicate, in an esoteric and not entirely accessible form, what we have already. I contemplate the time-suck this is going to mean, and quail in my boots. While eating chocolate digestives, which helps.

Chocolate Digestive Biscuit watch! I'm still addicted, only partially as a coping mechanism for my Troublesome Boss. McVitie's are still my favourite, although they have the drawback (other than the excessive price) that their delectably crumbly biscuit is very messy and sprays crumbs in a wide area. (Note how I cunningly blame the self-propelled biscuit crumbs rather than my own careless munching). I am desolated to report that the Baker's Bettasnack oat and dark chocolate ones have changed their chocolate formula, and it now tastes Really Odd. This is a pity, because I rather like the dense, crunchy texture of the oat-infused biscuit. Next up to try: those miniature Woolworths ones.

The holes in my leg are apparently healing well, although they don't much like me to wear jeans, which seem to chafe enough for the wound sites to actually ache a bit in a way they haven't done at all up until now. Also, apparently sleeping habits are ingrained on a subliminal level which causes some quite distinct angsts if they're disrupted. I sleep on my side, slightly curled up. During the night, and particularly during the hour or so it takes me to fall asleep when I first get into bed, I switch between my right side and my left side fairly frequently and with an approximately equal distribution. Since I have an eight-stitch wound just under my left hip at the point of maximum pressure for a body sleeping on its side, I can't currently sleep on my left side at all. I actually wake myself up with aborted attempts to turn over, and while lying awake trying to drift off I suffer from these weird compulsions to turn over which I have to resist, and which I feel almost like a physical itch which I can't scratch. I don't know how much this is affected by actual physiological pressures - i.e. whether my heart is up or down, or which organs are pressing on each other - but it's a very strange feeling. We are creatures of habit. Strange habit.

My subject line is quoting Air Supply, more or less by random association. I am a child of the 80s, and unrepentant. Also, Air Supply, like a lot of ballady 80s pop, is incredibly good fun to render lushly on the piano.
but only on its buttered side
That is a truly marvellous article, thank you! I love the tone of straight-faced ridiculous, and the fact that it's predicated on a perfectly serious assumption that the British take their biscuits really seriously.

I have never eaten a Hobnob, although I must confess to a certain positive curiously because (a) oats and chocolate, and (b) Sherlock fanfic, which posits the Holmes/Watson duo as Hobnob addicts with amazing frequency. Fanfic makes me try new food, music, poetry and movies distressingly often, which I suppose is a logical side effect of people writing about things they really love.
You seem to have imported a New-Style Professional Manager - ie: one who knows a lot about the Theory of Management as such, but little about how it should be applied to specific contexts, if at all! Such have been plaguing British, and I suspect American, industry for years. Unfortunately, apart from the sack, there is little you can do about this.

As for the orientation of chocolate biscuits, a few moments careful thought will show that they are indeed enrobed with chocolate on the underside. I suspect the paper, or even Christopher Hooton, was trying madly to fill an allotted number of column inches to an ever nearing deadline. But I suspect that's journalism anyhow!
Re: Congratulations
I fear I read "the sack" in the Carrollian sense of suppression - i.e. perpetrator headfirst into the sack, which is then upended and sat upon by the officers of the court. I'm possibly tempted.

My chocolate digestives are actually chocolate-filled, as I tend to sandwich two together as a strategy to keep my fingers unstreaked with chocolate which is less than solid state under our African sun. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it...
Re: Congratulations
"Sack" - there now, what a thing to do. Perhaps followed by a quick trip to the beach/a clifftop? Or shouldn't I tempt you further?

Of course you have to eat your chocolate digestives chocolate side together in the kind of temperatures you get. I mean, how otherwise can you eat them at work? Chocolate and crumb covered keyboards, paperwork etc, anyone?
Ultimate Biscuit challenge...
Hob nobs are far too sweet…and have a nasty habit of breaking into soggy chunks more swiftly causing me to have to thrust my fingers into the tea in a most undignified fashion to retrieve them--for me there is only one chocolate digestive: McVities dark chocolate. Alas when it comes to my ultimate favourite morning tea snack, McVities do not supply Jaffa Cakes to the Australian market…or at least not in the reliable way my addiction requires. No other jaffa cake achieves the ultimate crispy yet soft cakes that McVities do--effortlessly.

Also the sleeping dilemma…I feel it (10-stich gash on left shoulder)…your description it uncanny…I'm an inward facing left-side sleeper. We had to switch sides of the bed to accommodate wound…so not only do my organs feel displaced, but I've had the worst nightmares all week--left-side of the bed dreams. Creatures of habit…indeed!