Monday 18 May 2009
5.22 and I wake up thinking that my alarm clock has not worked and I am late for work.
The mornings are very bright now, as bright as midday at a very early hour. In a way this is disorientated and prone to waking me prematurely. I would be nice to get up at this hour and just have nothing to. In such a scenario it would be possible to squeeze in a good three plus hours of fun and function. Alas however the real world and work beckons to mentally and physically cripple and torture me.
I feel rough this morning, bloated and sluggish. For whatever reasons my contact lenses are playing up and my hearing feels as if it is receiving transmissions from the inside of a bowl. Nothing is clear in this sensory depravation of getting old.
Despite such lethargy somehow I manage to get to the station a little early today but still the train is late. Getting on the train I see an Asian lady that looks like Azmei. As I peer over my copy of The Metro it would appear that she clocks me, turns around and heads to the direct opposite end of the carriage. Was it her? Probably not. This is such a sign of paranoia.
Annoyingly as I write this still at Colchester some skinny lad decides to plop himself in the seat next to me. This train is still relatively fresh and there are seats in abundance but for some reason it seems that he wants to sit in the seat next to me just to annoy me. Such things will always serve to put me in a hump, especially on a Monday morning.
Despite this, I am excited today. Did I say that already? Millwall tickets go on sale to non-members today and after cursing not renewing my membership for the past couple of years today I should be able to snag a couple of tickets.
The train rolls into Liverpool Street at 8.05. I look out for the possible Azmei but I don’t see her, maybe she is hiding or putting a lot of effort into avoiding. Maybe even it isn’t even her and I am thinking nonsense.
After an annoying train journey this morning the tube doesn’t get any better as I wind up standing next to two loud mouth Asian lads going on about fat people very vocally. What’s the matter, did somebody get called a “Paki” one too many times?
When I eventually get sat down it is quite far down the line and with my mind miles away I almost miss my stop at Baker Street as I continue to play with my iPhone.
I toddle into work this morning feeling all bunged up. It turns out that The Girl isn’t in, she texted the boss but she didn’t text me. What’s the deal with her mentality? How the fuck can she justify taking so much fucking time off work. Part of me thinks it is because working bar/shift work she has never been able to tap into the 9 to 5 mindset but considering she is earning £24K and doing fuck all for it self preservation should really be one of her main considerations. Jesus, have we got to wrap this girl up in cotton wool to ensure her survival. Christ, when I was earning what she is I was fucking qualified, it took me many years to be earning such a salary, I didn’t just fucking sleepwalk into such a job because the person hiring had a crush on the applicant. What a shit start to the week.
Things fail to improve when I scan the Millwall Play Offs ticket situation for a second time and suddenly the See Tickets website appears to be crashing. Today is the first day that they are on sale to the general public. At this time I now find myself cursing my not renewing my membership for the past two years because it felt pointless. When I log onto the website before 9AM, as with yesterday, it appears that I am able to purchase the expensive Wembley Club tickets. The best tickets (the £60 tickets) appear to already be sold out. However as soon as 9AM hits it suddenly appears that all is fucked as I can’t get access to purchase any (including the poor people nose bleed seats).
All in all it’s a pretty shitty day, requests fly in from every direction and I begin to feel the heat. I find myself getting quizzed on the progress of the April accounts that I have had barely any time or opportunity to begin due to dealing with the auditors. No fair.
The day improves when at 3PM after literally a hundred attempts I finally manage to get tickets for Wembley. For the price I pay however I should be shot (Wembley Club and £84).
Eventually all good things come to an end and I am able to go home. Once I get back to Colchester as I head to the olds at Balkerne Heights to pick up my car I see Bobby poking his head out of their front room window barking his little face off. I can’t help but smile.
After a brief stop by I head home to a tub of Moroccan hummus from Asda – foodgasm.
Tonight I listen to the MP3s Doug made of Staff being on Ipswich community radio and it sounds fantastic. Damn, if only we had had such outlets in the Gringo Records days, a forum to play all the great music being made at the time, both local and national, at a time when there appeared to be some kind of enthusiasm and audience for it. I really hope Staff does some more of these shows; they’re entertaining and could even serve to enthuse some people into doing something for the “scene”.
The night ends on a real high as Racton to alert me that he just discovered that Shonen Knife are playing the Brixton Windmill last month. I thought Shonen Knife was a band long lost to the ages and to have them play such a small venue must be some kind of joke. Excited I tell him that I would pay DEVO money (£40 plus) to see this band when the reality is that it costs less than the cinema. He says that I can crash at his that night and suddenly the gig is on! Yikes, I fucking voted for this band to play ATP Vs The Fans and with hindsight they would have been one of the highlights of a poor weekend. Perhaps God read my request and granted me a wish.
With this I go to bed very happy tonight.