Friday, 20 March 2009

Friday 20 March 2009

It is with an eerie atmosphere that today begins as peaceful sense surrounds and a delicate curtain of mist/fog descends on what otherwise would be a gorgeous beginning to a beautiful day. The air is not crisp and without bite, which makes for a morn more than comfortable.

Arrival at the station continues the weirdness as regular faces are missing from the platform huddle and when the train arrives it feels less filled than usual. This is a plus.

Alas my early optimism soon bites me on the arse as the ginger bearded twat from a couple of times a couple of weeks ago decides to, on cue, sit opposite me. Fortunately today he is not wearing his starch soaked pointed (daggered) long coat but his mere existence and stupid ginger beard still serves me to manifest unspoken contempt for him. I begin to close my eyes and pretend he is not there.

This gesture however is only topped when some stupid fucking bitch decides to sit next to me despite the abundance of empty seats spread through the sparse carriage. Really there is some unwritten rule amongst commuters that you no don’t unnecessarily sit next to a person, surely! Or did I just invent just a common sensical rule and approach to proceedings.

Well, as fail to respond to her taking the seat next to me (ie not budging over) eventually she gets the message after brushing elbows with me one too many times as she reads her annoying fucking newspaper. As she moves to the seat next to the ginger guy (ha ha) she makes some comment in the process but this is drowned out by the Collings And Herrin podcast playing on my iPod. My only conclusion can be that she isn’t quite yet clogged up and is currently experiencing the squalling pain of one of the final blobs.

As a result of this it would appear now that karma should dictate that a real behemoth would now take said seat at the next stop (Kelvedon). Surprisingly however this does not happen and I begin to take heart in the schadenfreude act, which should not be permitted. The ginger guy however gets in his final blow as he bashes me (by accident, I think) with his bag at as we arrive at Liverpool Street while I spend my time avoiding eye contact with the angry lady.

The train paused at Bethnal Green today meaning that once more on cue it is late pulling in at 8.04. My obsession with this clock continues.

Regardless of all this though this morning I feel excited and exuberant. For the first time in a long time things are feeling almost electrifying.

Compared to yesterday, today in the office is relaxed and lacklustre, the calm after the storm that has been the rest of the week. The operations manager makes comment on how I have joined the iPhone family (is this a metaphor for now fitting in that extra bit more with the work team?) and the MD is plainly in high spirits as he dishes out a bacon and egg sandwich to yours truly which I snort up in seconds.

The girl is late which makes me fearful as I read on Facebook yesterday that she would be catching up with friends last night and when she phones me up she tells me how she has ballsed up a short cut in Kensington Town. She means Kentish Town. When however the MD comes into our office brandishing her Barclays card that she has plainly dropped on the floor it means she would have been short of beer money last night. Relief. We watch as he places the blue card on her keyboard when really we should all be trying to work out what her pin number is.

Incidentally I recently had it pointed out to me just what a ridiculous term “pin number” is. PIN stands for “personal identification number” so when we use that term we are in effect saying “personal identification number number”. FAIL.

Today I am mainly dotting Is and crossing Ts (or rather “crossing Is and dotting Ts” as I said the other day) and as a result I never really get going as there isn’t really anything to sink my teeth into. This is the calm before next weeks storm as another deadline for next Friday is beginning to loom already.

At lunchtime I have fishcake and shortly afterwards I prolapse twice. That’s not a good sign. Fortunately the other person to have the fishcake also does not display such symptoms.

During our “hour” the office is suddenly obsessed with the new Google Streetview website as everybody except me gets to show off pictures of their home on the internet. The photos do not even stretch to the place in Harlesden. Instead I resort to showing off pictures of knocking shops that I know.

Ultimately it is a typical slow Friday afternoon. Soon we are the final people left in head office as I finally upload/publish the first entry on the new era of JGRAM WORLD even though I really dislike and feel embarrassed by the writing.

Towards the end of proceedings I find myself chatting to my boss as he feels the lazy day also. I become privy to various pieces of information in the act.

We leave slightly earlier on the usual time for a Friday evening and this becomes the first time this year that I ride a train home in the light. With it the ladies look prettier and train feels faster. The view leaving Liverpool Street is astounding – the gherkin looks radiant, the HSBC tower appears sturdy compared to the finances held within and the Stratford Olympic stadium is really beginning to take shape along with the constructions surrounding it. 2012 is already beginning to take shape.

As all things around me appear to enthuse and excite why does my mood take a distinct dip? As I begin to unravel I feel I need to get a grip on proceedings. Suddenly it occurs to me, this is FAD – Friday Afternoon Depression is full flow. On such a wonderful and luxurious evening, why is it that I am stuck on a train heading home to an empty flat? Once more I cannot help but fell only a couple of years ago I would have had somewhere to go and something to do on a gorgeous evening such as this. Apparently not.

By the time the ride reaches dusk the view is painfully beautiful enjoying the most flattering of lighting schemes – the detailed blemishes are hidden while the shape and soul of the world remain. The red sky I view on my train journey home is the one to thrive for, to desire and wish would last forever.

As the Kurt Vonnegut documentary podcast I am listening to (Tank Riot) ends I scan through the negativity of the tracks and artists on my iPhone and through them the beacon of positivity is A Love Supreme by John Coltrane. This record makes me tingle.

Arrival back into Colchester is full of bittersweet envy. As I trudge along with my fellow commuters I found myself pining and wishing for some of their lives.

On the way home I stop by my parents who are still wrestling/struggling with Ryanair.

During today mum tried to return the copy of Rock Band I accidentally bought from GAME last Saturday. She tells me that she has been successful in them taking it back but they deemed it damaged and used as apparently the disc was scratched and had a finger mark on it. As a result of this they would no longer be able to sell the title, as new and instead they would have to sell it as used. Fuck me, I never realised that discs were so fucking delicate. So now what are they saying by taking the disc back, my smudge might stop it from working but that’s ok if someone buys it as a used disc, when purchasing a used disc from GAME it does not come with a guarantee that it works? This confuses me slightly so when I try confirming that they gave me a full refund on my debit card mum responds “no, they gave me a voucher for £20.” The game cost me £25. Suddenly just like that GAME has made £5 out of me from nothing. This really is not a normal way of procedure in commerce and retail and I feel the store (GAME) has royally taken my na├»ve mother for a ride. Not believing that GAME has pulled such a fast one I keep asking mum if she is joking and it turns out she’s not, GAME has just taken the piss. Obviously if I am not happy with this I should have just gone and sorted it out myself but as I express my shock and disgust at what has happened my old man gets fucked off at me and throws a fiver at me to make up the difference. I try to explain that I am fucked off at GAME instead of them but I don’t think they believe me.

Not long afterwards tired I head home for a dead Friday night in once more. As I drive out of their complex a car cuts out on me and suddenly just decides to park in front of me. I refuse to drive around because he should not be parking where he is but he just gets out and waves me around. Already pissed off I got up the fucking wall. So what do I do? Do I jump out of my car and shout at him? Do I drive my car straight into his heap? Nope, as I drive around his car and pass him I honk my horn a couple of times. What a fanny.

Unsurprisingly by the time I finally get home my day has managed to dip from happy to anger by a ridiculously bipolar degree/level. Rubbish.

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