Our old friend...
Ain't it nice to have a visit from our old friend Mr. Paranoia? Strangely going hand in hand with our other old friend, Mr. Codeine.

Work is a strange place - I know its just a place to go during the day but it seems to have its own rules and laws of physics/cause and effect. Take today for instance. My collegue - C (whom is the bestest work pal you could ever wish for) is asking the Domi-curatrix (DC) about an order for the most mundane and boring thing known to man and our DC just completely loses it, ranting and generally acting rather fucked-up. All this because our Admin girl is getting to grips with a new ordering system - "Don't be nice to her because she's pregnant" is a memorable quote from the DC. Nice.

Anyways, our old friend Mr. Paranoia seems to have visited both me and C this week, and looking back on the day from the evening you seem to realise how stupid and futile thinking about work is. I mean, life's all about the stuff that happens outside of the 9-5 right?

Atlantic Fantasies
So what else goes on? Today I have to entertain my parents for a short while before resuming my phone relationship with a girl in Florida. She's conviently my boss' sister, which makes for an interesting work environment as he's not our biggest fan.
Inbetween that its all about preparing for a bloody lecture tomorrow. ME? Giving a lecture? Now that is taking the piss, especially when its sooooo booooring. I mean really, does Herbaceous Border Maintenance sound like a thrilling ride through the seedy world of Horticulture? Nope. Its just crap. Girls in Gardening - Are they fit or just butch munters. Now that sounds far more exciting - and I've got pictures to go with it.

Ah well, like Jay and Silent Bob would say (well just Jay) Fuck them, fuck them up their stupid asses.
'nuff said.

The beginning
So the first entry for the Rillhaven archives begins... This is going to be a log of everything. All the boring work stress, the relationship screw-ups, a view of a slight lefty in these buggered-up times, film and book reviews and (more probably) a vent for my pseudo-Gandalf speak - my work colleagues have suffered enough.

Where shall I begin....

Me? I'm Melcrin and I'm a gardener or Botanical Horticulturalist as some would call me. Whatever it is, it still means I pull weeds out of the dirt and get wet and grubby 5 days a week - sounds fun? It kinda is most of the time when I'm not being harrassed by upper management and dealing with the over-70's that have a point to prove. The idea of a 25 year old gardener is sometimes to much for them to bear.
What else? Yeah, I'm trying to be a writer - Ha! Small fish, big puddle - but it keeps me off the grade A stuff.