Wednesday 29 April 2009

Today the alarm buzzes while I am in the middle of a deep sleep. This is a rude awakening to barely four and a half hours of kip.

On the news this morning it is reported that the government are sending out leaflets to every home about swine flu. How is this supposed to help? Are we supposed to cover our mouths with them?

I struggle to wash off the ICA stamp on my wrist from last night and as a result now the blue smudge on my right hand that now looks here to stay serves to make me look like a complete tramp.

As I leave my apartment to get in my car I notice a guy putting stuff into his van giving my purposely bad parking from last night a judgmental look of shock and horror – it gives me a little punch of amusement. Mission accomplished. Then I realise I am five minutes late leaving. Karma.

It is a tough stagger to the station this morning, my eyelids feel heavy and my joints are stiff. I am getting too old for late nights and early mornings.

Remarkably (for me) I still manage to get to the station on time but it is to the sight of a crowded platform and many newbies. As a result of this I don’t get my usual seat on the train and suddenly OCD and Feng Shui panic kicks in.

The train pulls into Liverpool Street at 8.05. Should I accept that this is the arrival time now that the train is now running a poorer service by consent? I guess if I do accept this then the terrorists will have won.

As I type this into my iPhone I swear I catch an old guy looking over my shoulder at it, at the kind of contents that probably will blow his mind. Or am I just being too paranoid.

Now aware more of my surroundings I look around to see another guy in a London Marathon t-shirt. These guys are so proud of themselves and boy do they like to exhibit the fact to the populous.

This morning I am first into work, into an empty restaurant and it is pretty peaceful. The day pans out as another calm before the storm type days as I attempt to get as much groundwork done before things kick off.

A real result today is managing to find and download a copy of the leaked new Sonic Youth record. This doesn’t come out until 8 June so this is both a really good thing (for me) and a really bad thing (for Matador and Sonic Youth).

At lunchtime I once again find myself called TOFFS to find out just where the fuck my Millwall shirt is. Again the guy gives me some kind of spiel about waiting on fabric and it placates me enough to wimp off into the distance. I really really hope these guys aren’t going under and out of business in the light of this current financial climate/crisis, which such service would unfortunately suggest. He tells me I will have it by the end of next week. I fucking better have.

On Facebook today people appear to appreciate my “Jade dies and swine flu starts. Coincidence? I don’t think so” comment even though I think it is perhaps one of the worst things I have ever said on there.

Bored in the afternoon I wander across to Pilkipedia to see just what the latest developments in that cliquey little world are. The visit to the site serves to tickle me and expose you know who as one of the biggest hypocrites that I always suspected/knew she was. As if I didn’t already know. It would appear that she is annoyed at the thumbsucking prick for having gone to a secret warm up show without telling her. Hmm, sounds like the time she went to see Ghost Town without telling me amongst other things.

After work I stay behind for drinks with my boss. During the course of discussion I gain more privy details about the current bank movements and comments. Basically the company’s relationship with the bank (bad) now appears to be personal rather than professional.

I leave the restaurant around 6.30 slightly staggering. By mistake, unable to work my iPhone, I accidentally phone up Stevo. This is a mistake as the Deerhunter gig in Brighton on bank holiday gets mentioned again. Nah.

The train I board is the 7.18 loser train to Clacton. The first trains out of Liverpool Street post peak time (post 7PM) are always full of drunken commuters and tourists with luggage and a language spoken in a different tongue. These trains are shanty at best and make for a toxic combination.

During the journey home Justin texts me about his anniversary dinner and how they have arrived at the restaurant only to discover it has been closed down. Is it really three years to the day already?

I get home to Colchester a bit tipsy at around 8.30. It’s a dull evening and I have missed the first half of the Manchester United v Arsenal game that United are already winning 1-0. I stick around the olds for the second half but it is dull beyond any words I can muster at this time.

I head home to catch the boardroom scene of this week’s The Apprentice. After too much bickering Noorul gets it. He is a teacher after all, possessor of no common sense. When his episode of The Apprentice You’re Fired comes on it just serves to send me asleep. The Apprentice is not very good this year.