I'm feeling slightly guilty today. As some of you may know, I spend a day a week working for the government. Not overthrowing foreign dictators, defusing nuclear bombs or anything so much fun, but it provides emolument. This morning you the taxpayer paid for me to travel, like all the Civil Servants I work with, to work on the train. From Birmimgham to London, First Class.

In my last job we used to pay £25 for a Standard Return, today's ticket - which will let me go to BMovie and back up tomorrow, cost £160. Every week.

In other news, I had an amusing shopping experience with a "scan and pack your own goods" machine in a Co-op in Oxford. Very strange experience - but I'm sure with practice it might even do what it is supposed to do and save time...

Inspired by lupercal I was thinking about tattoos on the train. At least I started thinking about tattoos and ended up thinking about cartouches, and collections of images which define me and my life. Which of course I could have tattooed. This then got me on to thinking of the contrasts between the ancient cartouches and modern barcodes. Maybe both. I could metatag myself...

Current Mood: curious
Current Music: Akira OST - The Battle Against the Clowns