Suddenly he went to 'arwell

The most striking thing about this place is how quiet is. Of course, in my last office the open plan seating facilitated a noisy environment. Here the offices are divided up in one of the refurbished buildings, but half of the offices are empty. The quiet is something else, and I find myself struggling not to fill the silence, be it through tapping, whistling or humming.

I'm reluctant to say too much about life out here. Security's high, thanks to the Anti-terrorism act, I guess, and I don't want to chance saying anything that might be seen as recklessly prejudicing the security of a nuclear site or nuclear material. Suffice it to say that there's police on the gates, passes, fences, and probably a load of other shit that I won't get to see because my clearance isn't high enough.

I'm pulling long days here, and I wonder how much my writing is going to suffer when all I want to do when I arrive home is get tea and go to bed. It should be worth it though; I get a 10% hike in my wages for working out of a site office, and Finish Early Friday means I get a longer weekend.

The prospects amongst the opposite sex look demoralising thus far. I've seen one young woman around the site, but that was a brief siting. There doesn't appear to be any near my offices.

Suddenly he went nowhere

Broke down on the way home from work last night. Two days I've been doing this commute, and we've already hit that barrier. So, the journey home took an extra two and a half hours.

The only annoying thing was it was nothing major; a broken windscreen wiper. The driver was unwilling to drive on the motorway without one, so we sat in the pub until the RAC pitched up, then felt fairly fucking useless when the repair work took him all of two minutes.

Later . . .