Whilst the horrific tango with the traffic wardens marked the first unsuccessful micro-job, I was not to be defeated. Sales procurred a better satellite finder and after some high altitude tinkering, he had Channel 5 on his Sky box, previously not available on the duff feed in his building.
The prospect of watching “Traffic Cops 8″ and “Fat Lesbian Wife Exchange” clearly had him welling up, but I persuaded him to give me a lift home and chill out with a few beers watching Archer.
Such relaxation would not last long and during a busy week both in work and out, somehow the glutton for punishment in me found time for a few hours of bamboo battling. Emily finally pandered to my (healthy!?) desire to burn things and as I dragged out the dreaded bamboo, this time I could make the bastard stuff burn….
Such back-on-the-trackness means that only £1613.81 to go!!! (46 MJ’s)
With the memory of Emily’s bamboo and the pain of micro-job #20 fading into the darker part of my cranium, I again put myself up for some MJ gardening. How bad could it be to try and rid her garden from the Eastern menace once again?
Well, a successful charity night where I was auctioneer and compère, meant a slightly fuzzy head to start with but after 3.5hrs of sunny (hard) labour, some extensive earth moving was complete but alas, the micro-job had taken a bit of a toll:
After the return from the dead video, the offers were obviously going to flood in. Whilst this Saturday night shall see me compère a charity night, such worthy activity shall be sandwiched between 2 micro-jobs:
Climbing through a sky light and wandering around on a city centre roof to clean some skylights
Coming face-to-face with Emily’s bamboo again
Of course, I shall endeavour to record such exploits on video… now that must be it…
..
Well, maybe not. Since my friend’s are already betting on it, I might as well put it on the blog.
My car (knackered Volvo) finally gave up the ghost on December 23rd 2009. Yes, as I powerslid around the snowy office carpark, Santa decided I’d been a bad mofo – at least in automotive land – and the lump of coal turned out to be a broken gearbox.
Obviously I did the only thing sensible – I put the keys in a drawer and disappeared to South America for 3 weeks. My return meant I had to sort the implausible-MOT-pass-in-2010 and so the Government scrappage scheme, finance and a new Fiesta seemed the answer:
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