Thursday 26 February 2009
Like a drunk this morning I wake up with a headache and with the TV still on from last night. If only I drank I could justify this lifestyle.
After getting myself ready, pulling myself together the walk to the station is surprisingly and reliefily painless considering last night was kickboxing. I probably stink from it still but I can’t tell the difference.
Despite this some guy still commits the faux pas of sitting next to me on the train at Colchester when there are still plenty of alternative seats spread across the length and breadth of the carriage. Fortunately he does not take up too much of the seat especially considering that I probably take up 60% of a double seat on the trains these days.
All in all though it is a slick trip into town and happily I bowl into work with my blister only giving me the minimal of trouble on my left foot.
Today I attempt to have a productive day and mildly I get there.
The morning starts off successfully when I pay off £2500 on my Tesco credit card. The fear of the impending interest based on me coming out of my 0% interest period is terrifying and really throwing money at the wall, money I can piss away against another wall.
The Girl trots in late again today and my boss has another pop at her, which doubles up as a pop at me thus meaning I will need to complete the circle by having a pop at her – something that I am not very good at.
The consultant comes in for a board meeting and I give them P&Ls, which the posh boss promptly throws back at me.
My foot continues to cane today; the blister is unbelievable.
As soon as the work is over I head over to Barbican and Szesze’s restaurant “New Era” in the evening. Its nice to see her but not necessarily fun. Her brother Martin is working the counter and he is as super friendly as ever. Since I was last at the restaurant it would appear Szesze has since let the two waitresses go, one of which was very pretty.
The restaurant is quiet but the takeaway is busy as I spend the entire evening sitting at a table near the counter watching the night occur while not really feeling part of any kind of meet up or even date. I manage to snag occasional conversation with Szesze but it just feels pointless as I begin to feel like one of those people you see sitting in restaurants just hanging around, usually a former manager or family member. Just what am I getting from being here at this time?
At one point I swear I watch as an old guy does a runner. Then a young lad comes in and struggles to order as he counts the pound coins in his pockets to see what he can afford. He looks like student but also equally he looks like a skaghead. Later some Indians come in to order, equally tight with their money but thoroughly lacking in manners and I really feel like saying something to them. Instead however I just give them evils and frown.
It is weird watching/witnessing first hand the machinations of a Chinese restaurant. As a takeaway order for duck is completed I watch as Szesze and Martin snap at each other in Cantonese before she stomps back down into the kitchen with the food. Apparently the duck is a strange colour, too neon and not subtle enough. While they argue the customer in question comes in to collect his food and Martin only manages to give the guy one tub of grub before realising and having to run out of the restaurant and down the road to give them the rest of their order.
Eventually Szesze and I head into the restaurant to eat some food. The sweat and sour pork her kitchen produces is to die for and soon she is bring this out along with plenty of noodles as I am served several dishes of glorious food. Occasionally she even joins me in eating as I spend the majority of the sitting on my own like a divorced dad.
Again she grosses me out when she eats noodles, feeding it into her gob and then sucking it up/in like an industrial machine. Is she actually a robot? Conversation is laboured but pleasant and there is at least effort behind it. Sadly we have very little in common. Briefly we discuss the world of accountancy and then the world of restaurants and soon we burn out. She again talks of her desires to go away on holiday this year but also points out the restrictions/responsibilities holding her back. Bored I begin asking her about the kids and then the father who it turns out is holding onto their passports. Suddenly a whole new can of worms is opened as the reality of their separation hits hard. It is a tough thing dating a mother because the kids are such baggage. I’m sorry if that sounds bull-headed and uncaring but that is the reality of the situation, these are responsibilities I did not give birth to now and ones that I need in my life like a hole in the head. The passport thing however looms large in conversation, the guy (the father) sounds like an arsehole, that black bastard.
As conversation dies down again she begins saying to me “tell me something” and really I can’t muster much up into putting into this context, we just don’t have enough in common. I try to make funnies but it barely works.
Eventually I leave around 10PM making my excuses about needing to get home for a busy day at work tomorrow.
When I finally get home I just feel exhausted by it all.