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My Diary For 2023

Every year I write a blog post about which diary system or set up I am going to use for the following twelve months. In recent years, I have moved away from a Filofax (I trialled something earlier this year - more of that in a minute) and fallen in love with the Hobonichi printed diaries. For the last two years I have used a Hobonichi Weeks as my personal planner and I won't be deviating from that this year. I have tried a Hobonichi Techo A6 a couple of times but have never managed to feel comfortable with it size-wise.  I have always lusted after the Hobonichi Cousin A5 as a main work planner so, this year, I have bitten the bullet at launch time and invested in my very first one. Hobonichi Weeks The Hobonichi Weeks is a slim diary with a yearly, monthly and weekly layout. The main section is a "week to view with notes" and there are an additional 70 note pages at the back. This year (2022) I used the "Mega" version which comes with almost three times as m

Sometimes I am such a dick

My husband despairs at me.  I have a good job and have made a significant and successful career change recently yet I fail at the most simple of things.  Today, however, I even surprised myself.  Let me explain.

I parked the car at 9.30 this morning, knowing that I wouldn't be returning to it until much later in the afternoon.  I park in a multi-story car park that I use regularly because it is dirt cheap for a daily ticket.  I pick up my little pull-along case and march across town.  I do my work thing and march back.

I push my ticket in the machine and it spits it back out at me.  Computer says "NO!"
I push my ticket in the machine a little bit harder and the same thing happens.
I push my ticket in the machine, threaten it and watch it eject itself.  .
I hang back and let three people who who have formed a queue behind me try their ticket.
They all manage to pay for their car parking time, give me a smug or withering look and fuck off back to their cars.
I try one more time but almost resign myself to the inevitable. 

The attendant's office is at the other side of the ticket machine so I walk over only to be greeted with a sign that says, "If this office is unattended please ring..."
I pull out my mobile phone, hope that the dying battery will last long enough to make a call and ring the number provided.  A lovely gentleman answers and promises to have someone come down to help me really quickly.
As I wait for the attendant five more people successfully push their stupid little bits of cardboard into the twat of a machine and pay for their time in the car park.  Each time a successful transaction is made, I glare at the machine.

The attendant arrives, I explain what has happened, he takes one look at my ticket and says, "You're in the wrong car park, love."  People in the queue are now not paying for their tickets but hanging back to see what happens.
I say, "No, no, I'm in here.  On Level 3.  I parked here this morning at 9.30".  
He replies, "That's for Curzon Street car park. Not this one."
"But, but... oh, hang on.  I parked there last week... Um..."
I dig into my purse and pull out another car park ticket.
The attendant smiles sympathetically at me.  I smile back, apologetically.  I hear someone snigger quite loudly.
I push my ticket into the machine.  £3.00 flashes up in red on the digital display.
I pay and walk over to the lift, looking neither left or right.  I get in the lift, punch the button for Level 3 and the doors close.

I am such a dick!