Last week was a plethora of cancelled appointments. Yet another landed on my doorstep on Friday. In formal and impersonal style the date was set later, leaving me free to answer the call of duty at the museum. Well, that's volunteering for you.

Monday opening? The museum tried that before and gave up. Today however, a coachload of french students are to be transported across Britain to our sunny old Swindon, for a special open day all for themselves.

Forty seven bemnused french youths sauntered in. Their tutors gave them explicit instructions to ask questions from museum staff in english (always a good sign) but on this occaision, the youngsters were either too stunned or bored by our exhibits to think of anything to say.

The funny thing was that as they were leaving, the backgound hum of french conversation gave way to a hesitant "Bye" as they filed out through the door. Was that all they'd learned how to say?

Window Shopping

There's no doubt our local model shop adds a splash of colour to the otherwise dour high street. Everywhere you look there were bright and dramatic images of tanks, planes, cars, boats, and other things to make with the sweat of your brow, a pair of tweezers, a couple of tins of Humbrol enamel, and enough glue to put a smile on your face.

And lo, everyone was looking. men, women, children, even those who denied any interest in the slightly nerdish practice of model-making stopped to browse the boxes in the window. Today was no different. A horde of french students crowded around the window before they were whisked off to another part of the world.

How Was Your Day?

Back to the programme centre for another bout of internetting. My advisor sidled up and asked how my day was. Sounds like it's better than yours, mate, if that's a cold you have there. I asked him how his day was, and yes, it was not his best day ever, feeling stressed out after guiding doleseekers into the hidden mysteries of finding paid employment all morning.

I had no choice to add my commiserations for his suffering. Not only was he stressed and in poor health, it was also Monday. That's a tough call. Now if only he'd been more generous with his doughnuts I would have been truly sympathetic.

Is It Just Me, Or...?

The recent death of Sian O'Callaghan has apparently bitten deep into the Swindon psyche. I know, I saw it on the news. Now in fairness I think she was killed for the most selfish reasons possible, and the gentleman who was bundled into the magistrates court this morning deserves everything he gets if he's found guilty.

Nonetheless, I can't help feeling there's something odd about the public sympathy that's been evident of late. I doubt the majority had even met her before, let alone knew her as a friend. With all the recent deaths paraded on the television news, why are we all so deeply affected by Sian's death? One major reason, I suspect, is that she's perceived as innocent and undeserving of her fate.