What a morning. As per my usual ritual, I wander down to the library to log on and contact the world out there. I know there is one. I visited it a couple of times.

As it happened, I was furst up the stairs - the security guard was craeless and opened the gate two minutes early. Right then, choose a PC, enter my number.... password... Number 19 in the queue to log on. What?!!!

I amuse myself by tapping on the desk. Wow... Sir Alan Sugar is sat in the cubicle next to me. Seriously, the resemblance is uncanny.

At last the counter reaches my number and a message pops up. No concurrent reservations allowed. Is someone pulling my leg? Is there a group of librarians hid behind a shelf nearby tittering to each other at my frustration? Apparently not, but it seems everyone else is having the same trouble. There's a line of people approaching the help desk and the poor woman dealing with enquiries is repeating the same message of helplessness again and again. She advises me to try again.

Number... Password... Oooh look, I'm number 33 in the queue. I pull a book on english law from the shelf and sit down for a read. You can tell how bored I am. As I go through the intricacies of working time regulations, a shadow looms over me. A young lad says "Hey you on that?"

After his masterful display of ettiquette I don't even bother looking up. I simply respond No. He wanders off in search of fashionable media. A livbrarian under considerable stress happens to walk by and I flag him down. What about my internet time, mate? I've spent most of it logging on? He assures me I'll get it back. Phew.

Hang on... My number is up again. At last I log on. I reach this site and begin an entry on my blog... Huh? The screen is logging out! Not again? Yes, again. I enter my number... password... Number 9 in the queue....

Queue of the Week

back in the good old days of dole queues, you took your card to a dusty office with a lino floor and queued up to sign. That was it. Then they introduced personal interviews, clean open office space, and soft furnishings. Now the numbers of unemployed are forcing the clock back. Henceforth I must attend a signing slot with a bunch of others, shepherded in under guard and processed without undue conversation. Sign here... Go away. Just like old times.

I did see this morning that some expert predicts job losses are over their worst. Ho ho ho.