The Meeting

Last night I was flicking through my new Ray Harryhausen book while half-watching repeats of comedy shows on the television.

I got into work at around nine o'clock again this morning, and at around ten to eleven I joined the crowd trooping along to a union meeting. The meeting was held in a sports centre almost right next to the office. The meeting was held in a basketball court, which meant sitting on hard narrow benches where you could barely move for fear of someone accidentally kicking you and I soon felt my feet going numb. Also it was draughty and lit by this horrible orange light, which reminded me of high-school exams (which were always held in the school basketball court and lit by the same orange light). The meeting itself was to do with the endless pay dispute that has been going on for years. It was hard to hear what was being said because the PA system was so bad. It was nothing really new, and I think most people just went along to get some time away from the office. Apparently they are talking about holding another strike, which nobody really wants because obviously you don't get paid for the days you're out on strike.

On my way home I got another carton of milk (which wasn't leaking this time) and the new copy of Radio Times. My next Film Festival film is tomorrow and will be Dreams With Sharp Teeth, a documentary about the controversial science-fiction author Harlan Ellison.