Thursday, 9 April 2009

Thursday 9 April 2009

This morning I awake and emerge to two sad texts from Nina last night. She really wanted to chat and she tells me how much she needed a friend and sadly I was not there for her and in essence I let her down.

Beyond this the train is pleasantly bare this morning, it would appear that many people have started Easter early. In my seat I manage to stretch my arms, at least for a stop or two.

At Witham the journey picks/livens up as a real life version of Booji Boy gets on the train. This is as hilarious as it is terrifying. I feel inclined to warn everybody else on the train. Fortunately I do this using the method of blinking so as not to cause/raise too much suspicion.

Off the train and onto the tube at Kings Cross station a geek version of Stringer Bell gets on the carriage. This version of Stringer Bell is one dressed like Alan Partridge – a strange combination I am sure he would even agree. Somehow though he more or less pulls off the look and it makes me wonder/consider if this is an indication of how Stringer Bell’s style has influenced the black male (blackmail) community.

Currently I appear to be getting a lot of slight smiles on the trains/tubes. To be honest I am not really quite sure how to take and react to these. Am I missing out on opportunity? More likely I suspect it is due to my current appearance being rather comical although I am not sure how or where it has changed. Confusion.

Today the streets smell of perfume. Not the smell of modern scent that echo chocolate and confectionary but the real whore stuff I was raised on as a child, the cheap stuff worn by all the mothers of my friends at school. The odour sends me thinking back to my youth as I briefly reminisce the freedom and optimism of those times in addition to the yummy mummies. The feeling soon deflates however as soon as the smell arrives it departs revealing itself to having been the retro scent choice/option of just one bold lady either striking out with a new hygiene decision or just being too poor (or cheap) to keep up with trends and times. The feeling was nice while it lasted.

The office girl doesn’t bother to turn up today, she has tooth ache. Likewise my boss texted me last night to say he wouldn’t be in until 10AM today but just after 9AM he then phones the office to tell me he won’t be in until 11AM now. To his credit by the time I arrived he had been and gone but this does leave me having to deal with the auditors.

The overriding feeling towards today is that we are already in Easter mode, already in a mindspace that sees us on holiday prematurely.

At lunchtime I head down to collect our food and notice a gorgeous Japanese customer with blonde hair. I am immediately smit as her sour face displays no change in demeanour and paints her as one cool customer. I then realise the real attraction to me of her is that she appears to look exactly like the lady in the Deeper Underground porn I downloaded last year. I point this out to the girl on the bar but it doesn’t really resonate with her having not seen the filthy movie.

In the afternoon my boss and I head over to our company storage units in Paddington. Luckily we soon find what we are looking for against what I was expecting was going to be a lengthy and frustrating task. It was a year ago today that I and the nutty bloke put all these boxes in here.

As we head back to the restaurant we drive through Paddington and it is a disheartening and grim sight as every other shop appears to contain Islamic writing on the signs above. Despite being within a stones throw of some very expensive properties owned by rich people these shops just make the area look piss poor and run down.

When we take a slight short cut through Maida Vale we wind up on Hamilton Terrace driving past the house of my old boss the producer. I remember driving here a couple of times back in the day.

Late in the afternoon I receive a text from the girl who has taken today off ill asking if I will send out some stuff for her. Its not as if I’m not busy doing a ton of my own stuff already. Cheeky cow.

As everyone else heads off to begin Easter early I find myself having to work right up to the wire assisting the auditors with their various queries and sample selections. It is tedious and having been on their side of the fence doing audits myself in the past I realise how tedious it is for them also.

By the time 5.30 and home time arrives it comes with a huge sigh of relief.

The train ride home is spent sat opposite an uppity lady with a passing resemblance to Samantha Janus. In a sarky mood I wonder just how cool it would be to burst her ego bubble and ask her “when is it due?” because she plainly has something of a pot belly dying to get out.

Back in Colchester I find myself elated and relieved to be back home on course for a four day weekend, a true break. As I stride along the platform I feel a poke in the ribs and it is that Mark guy that used to work in the building next to ours on Butt Road, the guy with the ego bigger than the office block from where he came from. In a good mood however I say “hi, how are you?” able to deal with him. He makes some comment about being “still in work then” as if to question my competence and suggest incompetence. Perhaps he didn’t mean it this way but everything he ever has said has always come with such a potential for sarcasm. Hey, he looks like a white Rio Ferdinand of course people (females) are going to tell him he is a gift from god (to some degree). Still, I’m in a fantastic mood and tonight he cannot ruin it. He tells me he is about to move away, closer to London. Oh, that’ll be a shame, to never see you on the train ever again being sarcastic and prick like. And soon we are parted.

On the way home I briefly pop into the olds to see them and the dog before heading straight to Asda to do my weekend shop early in order to beat a potential Easter rush. I don’t know, grocery shopping on a Thursday night takes me out of my comfort zone and I don’t like it.

When I finally get home to my flat I am in a pretty grumpy mood and when there is somebody parked in my allocated space I kick off sounding my horn three times loudly as if this is going to spring the owner into action. I notice a window twitch as my neighbour downstairs clocks me and as I honk for a third time I begin to notice other people looking out of their windows weary at me. If I am going to be angry and pissed off then everybody should be angry and pissed off. To say the least I am grumpy tonight, perhaps the Mark dude did have his desired affect on me after all.

Eventually I park up in a visitors space and stomp upstairs into my flat slamming our communal door behind me in the process generally acting like a spoilt child.

Welcome to the weekend.

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