I'm at work. The word has taken on a whole new meaning since I've arrived in this country. Its all well and good to witness England's lack of work ethic - not packing grocery bags or kebabs - but to experience it first-hand is something completely different. My month-long temp assignment turned out not to be what I described the other day, rather than delivering stuff around the city, I'm in the post room of QBE London... Delivering things around the office. Every hour or so I go up to levels 3 & 4 and collect their outgoing mail from their trays and drop off any mail for them. It takes about 5 minutes.. Every so often I get a random task like taking a box of envelopes to a staff-member but essentially, for 55 minutes out of every hour I'm doing nothing. I'm in an office staffed with 6 people doing the work that two should. I've been reading 2 newspapers cover to cover every day, and there's still somebody to come back from sick leave tomorrow.

But why complain. If these people want to pay me to do nothing, its fine by me...

In other news, Hana quit her job today.. The new supervisor has been getting on her nerves. While the moron working next to her gets away with being a retard because... she's a moron, Hana kept getting shit for not working to her potential. So now she's going to focus on getting media work and to support herself in the mean-time she'll probably work at the pub.

Mum called me at 4 in the morning last night.. This goes to everybody: Don't call me between the hours of 9am and 5pm Australia time. I thought somebody had died or something. But no, she got an email from my agent... and decided it was necessary to inform me immediately.

This weekend, on top of the big match between StKilda and Collingwood, there's the even bigger, top of the table clash between Franky Lee and Spruce Moose. I know I'd be there if I could, but I know Frank can pull through in my absence, just like I'm sure he will tonight against those damn dirty Scousers.