Obscure dull red
24 February 2010
I’ve forgotten I’d booked myself on to a training course. Oh, whoops. Three hours away from getting my department slapped with a charge for non-attendance, and a sudden mental shift from ‘preparation for spending the entire day on close analysis and not going home until it’s done’ to ‘no point starting anything more exacting than tidying up the snag list on a team report and possibly slipping off early if the course gets out in time’.
I’m learning how to set up some training software, which makes the afternoon some kind of meta-training. I don’t want to think about what sort of training the training trainers would have had, in case my brain short-circuits.
It’s the sort of software where you can make the menu colours anything you want but users can only ‘enroll’, not ‘enrol’. One of the colours in the palette of several dozen is called ‘obscure dull red’. I immediately feel sorry for it and resolve to use it throughout the assignment from then on. (Perhaps it’s a minor Trot lagging three ideological splits behind, eking out the last year or two before retirement in a history department under threat, writing the odd article for New Left Review and struggling to teach students about surplus value theory when they really want to know about Afghanistan.)
I get out just in time not to have to go back to the office, and just in time to hit the local rush hour. My double-decker’s full to bursting, largely because a boy’s climbed on with the biggest inflatable parrot I’ve ever seen.
That is probably a sign I ought to go straight home.