Thursday 16 April 2009
I actually energised this morning, things look pretty good and optimistic and the walk to the train station is a breeze even though it is full of the knowledge that I have a hard/heavy day ahead of me.
On the train I find myself sitting in a different seat to usual as the young stud office boy “steals” my every day seat. Makes a change from having him sit opposite me I guess as I slowly watch him sleep the entire journey into town.
As a bonus though at Chelmsford the Greek looking plump but pretty lady decides to sit in the seat next to me. Evidently she cannot get comfortable this morning while reading her shitty supermarket bought mass produced novel and soon her fat arse is rubbing against me snugly. It feels like being back in the womb.
Eventually the train gets into Liverpool Street at 8.06 – only six minutes late today then (although I would imagine this is open to dispute).
The tube ride this morning is relatively uneventful. At Kings Cross I see the Asian guy with the huge scar and fucked up face that I saw the other morning. He just stands on the platform, does he actually get on any trains? He notices me noticing him and for a split second it becomes uncomfortable until I begin to wonder “where is the transvestite today?”
It is a very busy day at work with the reality that today is THE deadline for the March accounts (profit and loss). I work non-stop again today working through my lunch for the Nth day running and I continue to still find things/issues right up to the wire.
I end up working until 6.30 at which point my boss begins hovering causing me to produce a rushed but OK set of drafts.
As I head downstairs the boss is at the bar so we indulge in some after works drinks that eventually turns into a set of tit jokes with the girl on the bar but not before the boss leaves with lots of talk of bonuses and payrises.
Eventually I get on the tube at Baker Street at 8PM. On the train is a weird looking couple hand in hand looking like the shittiest proposal in history. They are both covered in denim. I don’t understand a thing that they say when I attempt to eavesdrop, I think they were Polish.
When I finally get back to Colchester the night is heading towards 10PM. I stop by my parents place in the hope of blagging some food to soak up the alcohol. As I play with the dog on the floor I see my reflection in the oven and experience some kind of drunken Hasselhoff eating off the floor epiphany. I’m a mess.
When I get back to my gaff the same car (with the tow bar) that was parked in my place last Thursday is back in my space. I’m less pissed off and grumpy this week but still happily press my horn a couple of times in the hope of annoying my neighbours. This week I make sure I leave a note on the car to let the guy know the space is mine.
Inside my flat I soon pass out afterwards.