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WRPL

Week One

2015 is a year full of things I didn’t want to do, some of which have turned out for the best. I regret having to leave London, shuttering Istic Networks for the moment, moving to a full time permanent job. I’ve not progressed in my personal projects hardly at all, didn’t succeed at any of my fitness goals. I am in almost exactly the same place I was – physically and mentally – last year, and neither of those are good. Worse, in fact, since my knee’s still partially fucked from the fall, and my shoulder’s not happy either.

Still, I’ve set up the dominos for next year. I’ve got a bike to reduce my commute time and increase fitness – once the knee and shoulder are willing – I’ve booked my theory driving test for the end of the month. The new job is fewer hours and less stress than any I’ve had in the last ten years, and once I lose the multiple hour commute I can take advantage of that. New city means new social, and smaller cities make that a lot easier.

This year I start playing Empire, which I’m looking forward to a lot, and the final acrobatic landing of Odyssey, which is exciting and intimidating in equal measure. I’m aiming to play at least one larp without crewing it at all – Tales out of Anchor is in Feb – and hopefully more.

So less me, more larp, and hopefully with it getting better at this weekly update thing.

Week one. Let’s do this.

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When I Fall

So yesterday, I was attempting to navigate home after the pub with my boss, and we’d basically lost London at this point. There were buildings, and people, and I could see a Pret and a Starbucks. So I dug out my phone and asked it where Moorgate was, and it said over there, and I walked a bit over there, and said “Hey look, Moorgate station”, while walking towards it.

Actually, what I said was, “Hey look, Moorg” and discovered that the road in front of me was, instead, air. Or stair.

One of the side effects of the events prior to finding Moorgate station, mostly involving some delightful beer, did not have a positive effect on my ability to coordinate a well-orchestrated landing.

Anyway, in the time following:

  • I wasn’t distracted by a nice pair of legs, a bag with olive oil in it, or relevant pseudopodia, so I did not master flight.
  • My phone flew off on its own adventures, where despite *many* Serious Talks, it decided to try crack.
  • My glasses, lacking a reasonable escape route from the ground, decided to investigate with tunneling through my brow. This is where most of the blood came from.
  • My knee decided that if anyone was going to win the race for the ground, it would be it, and fulfilled its wildest ambitions in that regard. Thankfully, it has not been swayed by the peer pressure of my phone, and did not also experiment with crack.
  • With the assistance of my boss – did I mention this is the first time I’ve gone out after work with my new colleagues? I’m doing well with impressions – I got back to Oxford and a lift home.
  • Having got home, the natural pain-killers wore off and my knee expressed its dissatisfaction with our collective life choices.
  • Today I am working from home, my knee now only hurts if I do something stupid, like move.
  • In conclusion, I believe that pavements in London should be better padded, and warning signs and possibly barriers should be placed before drops of up to six inches.

I am, or will be, fine.