Monday, 27 April 2009

Monday 27 April 2009

It is with a relatively easy awakening that this week begins. This is coupled with a cool walk to the station of little effort or ache. As I pass through my parents’ apartment complex I once more see the crazy woman walking Alsatians appearing to shout at them every step of the way.

The news is alarming filled with tales of Swine Flu from Mexico today. The timing of this is terrifying as it comes coupled with my latest cold of the year, a real dog of a cold dragging me down and making me suffer. Do I have Swine Flu?

There appear to be very few regular commuters on the platform waiting for the train this morning. This point is only emphasised when a wide brown eyed girl (I think Spanish) attempts to shove me out of the way to get on the train in front of me. Such rudeness. I had at first thought she pretty until she almost tried to kill me by pushing me under the train. Later I notice her sitting next to some built guy (probably a squaddie) and suddenly it comes clear that she was pushing me out of the way to ensure she got to her beau. Now is that any excuse for fatality?

Upon boarding the train something is different. I look down and notice the floor is a speckled white/light grey instead of the usual putrid stained green hybrid – why is this? For some reason it is unnerving.

With the train not even having left Colchester some wild haired crazy woman (in appearance) decides to sit next to me – no fun.

By the time we reach London outside it is raining as forecast and as unprepared as I am I do not have a coat today. The train pulls into Liverpool Street at 8.05 wet and late.

On the tube as the it stops at the Barbican some scary guy looking like an anorexic Charles Manson gets off the train saying (I think) “Jesus Christ” in the process. I half think that this was aimed at me.

This morning arriving at the restaurant is like walking into a morgue. For a Monday morning there are a surprisingly amount of people already in the house and nobody appears happy with it.

By lunchtime I finally finish off my management pack for March. This has now taken me three and a half days to complete, something that I can rush/cobble together in a morning sometimes.

I have to admit that I sleepwalk through today. And it appears that I am not the only one either as I catch my boss asleep at his desk late afternoon. This weather inspires nobody and nothing. As a result of being caught in the act I think that this is why he lets us out early.

The tube ride from Baker Street to Liverpool Street is carnage this evening. At no point do I get anywhere near to sitting down and a couple of times I find myself having to hold in my breath as a rucksack gets in my face while a dirty old man appears to be trying to get into my pants.

When I finally get to Liverpool Street it is to the discovery that my regular 6.20 train home has been cancelled, which this evening appears par for the course. Instead I opt to squeeze onto a 6.08 Clacton train, which is absolutely no fun. In comparison to the Norwich intercity trains, it appears that these are the trains poor people catch.

By the time I get back I pop my head into the olds (as ever) and tonight the dog at least appears to be somewhat happier with a bit more life in him again.

Beyond seeing Bobby I head home to Bohemian Grove relatively early to get some writing done but as ever time is of the essence and very short at disposal. Such is life.

After squeezing out some words soon it is time to put my head down and drift away.

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