Wednesday, 17 June 2009

Friday 17 July 2009

Damn I must really stop drinking fizzy caffeine drinks at night, it absolutely screws with my nights sleep and as with yesterday I find myself yawning through the day.

Today is dank. Rain is promised and looking at the sky it is inevitable.

This morning is soundtracked by side two of “Ill Communication” by the Beastie Boys. This music is still so dense, super satisfying and perfect for relaxation on a day such as this.

Happily it is a real non-event of a train journey today, it looks like a lot of people have started the weekend early including the Wookie.

The train pulls into Liverpool Street at 8.04 with a depressing regularity and now a warped kind of reliability. Happily though as I get to the tube platform a train is rolling up.

At Euston Square the piper from the other morning boards the tube. I take back what I said the other day he can actually play that thing and knock out a tune but being a great unwashed he is also terrifying and the sad reality is that I also half expect him to bite me if approached. When he exits the train with us at Baker Street I feel uneasy.

Again today the tube to St Johns Wood is full of cricket fans, many wearing their silly ties. As I exit the station the ticket taut actually looks like Botham. That is a great marketing gimmick.

When I arrive at the restaurant the consultant is already in. As a result of this it is a busy day from the word go. I fully brace myself for a nervy day.

On Radio One it is noticeable how Jo Whiley is absent from the station after her long overdue sacking/redundancy/rescheduling yesterday. Shame she is being replaced by another cunted chimp idiot.

At lunchtime I have swordfish steak and chickpeas just as the biggest work query of the day arrives/occurs. When I finally get around to eating the dish it is the saltiest food I have ever tasted/sampled in my life.

It is a weird day generally; The Girl and I are sniping at each other constantly for the entire duration of this Friday. For me sometimes its like dealing with a minor league Jordan, a person so entrenched in their beliefs it is horrific, especially when they are naïve and dumb.

Just before leaving the restaurant today tentative plans are hatched for the roller derby on Saturday. Should be fun.

People get in my way as I head home tonight. As I run for the tube at St Johns Wood the girl in front of me just stops as the doors behind begin to close and I almost slip on the step. Not that she notices how close she comes to causing my decapitation.

As I sit on the tube at Baker Street I look out of the window and inevitably spot Danny Baker. Tonight the guy looks tired, he doesn’t look too well.

Later as the tube nears Liverpool Street I find myself in the midst of an “is she, isn’t she” pregnant angst game. In this sport you can never win if you give them the benefit of the doubt.

I board the 5.50 train to Norwich sheepishly in mild fear that I might see Sarah. Thankfully/fortunately I do not spot her and in the end a pretty girl takes the seat next to me and proceeds to spend the entire journey sewing a dress together. When the woman sat opposite asks her what she is doing a broad and attractive Irish accent says she needs it this evening. Her voice only serves to make her more attractive.

When I get back to Colchester this evening I am feeling a bit despondent. There are actually gig options but I am too exhausted to head along to either (British Sea Power and/or Kunt And The Gang).

As I head back to my car I bump into the guy I used to work with at Disney. He is his usual chipper self, a swath of denial and false optimism. As ever we talk about meeting up for drinks but it never happens.

On the way home I stop by my parents’ place at Balkerne Heights and all seems as per usual.

When I head home it is straight to bed. On Big Brother Carly gets evicted but I fall asleep before anything good happens and as a result I miss the five new housemates going into the house.

Things should be better tomorrow.

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