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todayiamadaisyEnd of financial year business has been keeping me occupied these last few weeks. I'm not in charge of organising end of year stuff in this job, just doing pieces of work as required; but being in local government, there are a good few more statutory pieces of work required. Plenty to do.
The woman whose maternity leave I was covering has returned. I assumed there would be a handover period like I had when I started, gradually picking things up, but I had forgotten that, of course, she already knows the software and procedures and such. So we had a week's overlap while she got her bank access restored and I wrapped up a couple of small jobs that were quicker to do than explain to someone else, and that was it. I now sort of float, doing special projects for various people: last week, reading twenty-five contracts to apply a new accounting standard for grants revenue for my boss, next week I'll be running reports for the auditors, the week after I'll be working with our IT guy to sort out some issues with the council-run caravan park's banking. Lots of variety.
Way back when I started this LJ, I was working for the council's IT department, running a government-funded community internet skills program. Back then, the council had taken over an abandoned factory to use as a business incubator, and there was a computer lab and all the council's computer servers there as well, even though the IT department itself was in the main council building. So I worked in a sort of outpost, just the computers, the servers and a small office containing me and the guy who looked after them. And sixteen years later, I'm back at the council, and my old office-mate is the IT guy I'll be working on the caravan park project with. Time is a circle.
Alistair was attacked by a dog when we were out walking the other day. I saw the dog, a spaniel with a collar, not one I've seen before, trotting down the other side of the street earlier. It went up the hill and I forgot about it. At some point it crossed the road and came back down the hill, because suddenly it was over our front fence snarling and Alistair was bouncing up and down on his leash like a spiky, spitting rubber ball. I shooed the dog enough to get it back out on the street and managed to catch Alistair and carry him, coiling like an eel, inside. No injuries (other than to his dignity), but he spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on the sofa and looking put out.
From Monday, masks will be compulsory here in Victoria. For everyone now, not just in the Melbourne outbreak hotspot. My mother has been busy, making us two each, and some for her non-sewing friends. She's had to stop now, as she's out of elastic, and that's the new shortage in town. Not a scrap of 3mm elastic to be found.
What else? I made these cheese scones yesterday. I don't know about perfect, but they're pretty good.
July books read
* The Case of Alan Copeland - Moray Dalton (1937) ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
This is a cracking Golden Age mystery, which I fairly romped through. The first half of the book sets up life in the quiet English village of Teene; the second half is a courtroom drama following the trial of Teene painter-turned-poultry farmer, Alan Copeland, for the murder of his wife by arsenic poisoning, with poison pen letters, adultery and perjury adding to the excitement. I've seen a number of reviews mentioning how visual the book seems, and I agree: this would be a stunning two-part mini-series. This is really four-and-a-half stars, as (a) it's fairly obvious who the killer is and (b ) it ends quite abruptly, but I'm happy to round up.
* Rope's End, Rogue's End - ECR Lorac (1942) ★ ★ ★
Five adult siblings (four brothers and a sister) gather for dinner at their family's crumbling manor. By morning, one is dead, one is missing and one has left the country.
I'm not quite sure what to make of this book. There was a lot that frustrated me about it. I thought I'd scream if I had to read one more pitying description of Veronica, the sister, for being unusually tall and having a deep voice; I wasn't particularly interested in any of the five siblings, who seemed to be the architects of their own misfortunes; I didn't really understand how the police investigation got approved; and I guessed the culprit early on, but not the method. (Also, the OCR on the Kindle edition is terrible.)
On the other hand, it was never so frustrating I wanted to give up, and the ending, with multiple people involved in chase in the dark through secret passages under the house, was very good. So I'll give it a middle-of-the-road three for being just interesting enough.
* Spring Magic - DE Stevenson (1942) ★ ★ ★ ★
As the introduction to this book states, this is a simple tale that makes a comforting read. Frances Field is a moderately well-off young woman, who has lived a Cinderella life with her aunt and uncle since being orphaned. When their house is bombed during the Blitz, she takes a holiday in a small Scottish fishing village, making friends with the locals and the wives of the recently-arrived Army regiment that has set up camp nearby.
It's a more conventional story than Miss Buncle's Book, but Stevenson still walks a meta line: in one chapter, Frances and her new friends make fun of a romance novel in which the hero and heroine get stuck on an island; in the next chapter, that very predicament happens to Frances. The love story isn't particularly convincing, but there are enough shades of dark and light in the side characters to keep things interesting.
The woman whose maternity leave I was covering has returned. I assumed there would be a handover period like I had when I started, gradually picking things up, but I had forgotten that, of course, she already knows the software and procedures and such. So we had a week's overlap while she got her bank access restored and I wrapped up a couple of small jobs that were quicker to do than explain to someone else, and that was it. I now sort of float, doing special projects for various people: last week, reading twenty-five contracts to apply a new accounting standard for grants revenue for my boss, next week I'll be running reports for the auditors, the week after I'll be working with our IT guy to sort out some issues with the council-run caravan park's banking. Lots of variety.
Way back when I started this LJ, I was working for the council's IT department, running a government-funded community internet skills program. Back then, the council had taken over an abandoned factory to use as a business incubator, and there was a computer lab and all the council's computer servers there as well, even though the IT department itself was in the main council building. So I worked in a sort of outpost, just the computers, the servers and a small office containing me and the guy who looked after them. And sixteen years later, I'm back at the council, and my old office-mate is the IT guy I'll be working on the caravan park project with. Time is a circle.
Alistair was attacked by a dog when we were out walking the other day. I saw the dog, a spaniel with a collar, not one I've seen before, trotting down the other side of the street earlier. It went up the hill and I forgot about it. At some point it crossed the road and came back down the hill, because suddenly it was over our front fence snarling and Alistair was bouncing up and down on his leash like a spiky, spitting rubber ball. I shooed the dog enough to get it back out on the street and managed to catch Alistair and carry him, coiling like an eel, inside. No injuries (other than to his dignity), but he spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on the sofa and looking put out.
From Monday, masks will be compulsory here in Victoria. For everyone now, not just in the Melbourne outbreak hotspot. My mother has been busy, making us two each, and some for her non-sewing friends. She's had to stop now, as she's out of elastic, and that's the new shortage in town. Not a scrap of 3mm elastic to be found.
What else? I made these cheese scones yesterday. I don't know about perfect, but they're pretty good.
July books read
* The Case of Alan Copeland - Moray Dalton (1937) ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
This is a cracking Golden Age mystery, which I fairly romped through. The first half of the book sets up life in the quiet English village of Teene; the second half is a courtroom drama following the trial of Teene painter-turned-poultry farmer, Alan Copeland, for the murder of his wife by arsenic poisoning, with poison pen letters, adultery and perjury adding to the excitement. I've seen a number of reviews mentioning how visual the book seems, and I agree: this would be a stunning two-part mini-series. This is really four-and-a-half stars, as (a) it's fairly obvious who the killer is and (b ) it ends quite abruptly, but I'm happy to round up.
* Rope's End, Rogue's End - ECR Lorac (1942) ★ ★ ★
Five adult siblings (four brothers and a sister) gather for dinner at their family's crumbling manor. By morning, one is dead, one is missing and one has left the country.
I'm not quite sure what to make of this book. There was a lot that frustrated me about it. I thought I'd scream if I had to read one more pitying description of Veronica, the sister, for being unusually tall and having a deep voice; I wasn't particularly interested in any of the five siblings, who seemed to be the architects of their own misfortunes; I didn't really understand how the police investigation got approved; and I guessed the culprit early on, but not the method. (Also, the OCR on the Kindle edition is terrible.)
On the other hand, it was never so frustrating I wanted to give up, and the ending, with multiple people involved in chase in the dark through secret passages under the house, was very good. So I'll give it a middle-of-the-road three for being just interesting enough.
* Spring Magic - DE Stevenson (1942) ★ ★ ★ ★
As the introduction to this book states, this is a simple tale that makes a comforting read. Frances Field is a moderately well-off young woman, who has lived a Cinderella life with her aunt and uncle since being orphaned. When their house is bombed during the Blitz, she takes a holiday in a small Scottish fishing village, making friends with the locals and the wives of the recently-arrived Army regiment that has set up camp nearby.
It's a more conventional story than Miss Buncle's Book, but Stevenson still walks a meta line: in one chapter, Frances and her new friends make fun of a romance novel in which the hero and heroine get stuck on an island; in the next chapter, that very predicament happens to Frances. The love story isn't particularly convincing, but there are enough shades of dark and light in the side characters to keep things interesting.