Childish Excitement

I have a jobby thing starting in September! I am going to my team's first ever Premiership away match tomorrow! I am seeing people I've not seen in aaaaaaages on Thursday! I am seeing Radiohead and Beck at a festival on Saturday! Tonight I will be sleeping on a settee in Stoke!

Do things get excitinger?

Here's a photo of l'Hôtel de Ville to be getting on with.

Staring into the abyss

This is an interesting month, in the sense that I have absolutely no idea where I'll be at the end of it. Presumably France, ideally Paris, but you never know. Such periods of flux have become something of a yearly ritual. And sending off dozens of emails to prospective employers and landlords - I'm trying to keep the two separate this time round - is proving pretty time-consuming. Luckily I am not in ze sheet quite yet but Timberlife does seem to walk a hazardous tightrope between uproarious success and appalling failure without ever fully comitting to either (those of you who have ever lived in France will recognise this as efficient application of le système D).

Sometimes I consider taking drastic and definitive action, in a heroic all-guns-blazing, all-or-nothing gesture of defiance against the system. Not unlike Chief Leaf, who just left to spend two years in a remote Cameroon village, and has thus comprehensively amputated all four limbs that once held her to the career ladder. Or Luke, who's dropping everything to go and work in a Swedish restaurant in Perpignan. (Student city. Young Swedish clientele. Shameless, Luke, shameless, although possibly not quite so much as that nanny thing.)

Timber propaganda shot
You too could be this popular at parties.
(But only if you buy a digger.)

I suppose you'll have to read next week's Timberblogging to find out what happens. (I'm also thinking of bringing in other soap-style dramatic storylines to Timberblog. This will depend partly on audience reaction.) Meanwhile, regarding Timber's upcoming UK tour, nearly everyone has said "yes, I'd like to see you in London", which is great. Nearly everyone then continued "let's meet at half 7", which isn't.


Corrections Column
Qwik Crisp isn't a franglicism, as suggested on 23.7, it's the international trademark. We apologise for any offence, inconvenience, or freak microwave-related injuries caused.