The spirits are revived after a short camping holiday in Oxfordshire, the main objective to attend a friend's wedding party. Putting a little distance between me and the PC is always appreciated. We couldn't resist a Park 'n' Ride trip to Oxford for me to revisit old haunts. I lived there in the late 1970s and again in 1984/5, each time trying to hold down really boring jobs. The first time, I was a college hanger-on. Managing to ignore the ever-growing social problems in the city, I went to balls, film festivals and tea parties, and spent lots of money at the wine merchant. But could the job have been duller? I don't think so - writing abstracts of articles on forestry, day in, day out. So walking through the University Parks on Saturday, I averted my gaze from the Forestry Institute. The second time, I worked in marketing for a small software company. Well, I say "marketing" because that was in my job title, but I soon found out that in this company marketing=jollies and was off-limits to a scrag-end like me. Instead, I did customer support (ye gods). The whole situation was made even more ghastly by horizontal goings-on between the managing director and another member of staff, and also by the fact I was living in a small commercial hotel close to the station. I lasted three months and then ran off to Brighton.
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