Monday 17 August 2009
Dream: we (Racton, Justin and the usual suspects) manage to blag some free Latitude tickets and proceed to try and snag/steal some VIP wristbands in order to sneak into the backstage area. The festival is poor, Queen are the headliners on Friday night which is a major cringe. The area feels greener than previous and the atmosphere/climate is warm with the air stifling. Almost immediately people begin to get bored and soon decide to head into Southwold.
Oh dear I really do wake up feeling tired this morning. The heat last night again made it almost impossible to sleep and now its time to feel the affects.
Clacton is on GMTV news (national news) this morning as it sounds that some poor girl may have drowned in the sea. GMTV even have a reporter on Clacton beach.
Ironically I get to the station at 6.53AM this morning, which much like Usain Bolt this is a new world record (for me).
I get “my seat” on the train but annoyingly the train just sits in the North Station platform for what feels like a minor eternity.
I feel foul these days as while I sit seated cramped in my little throne I have to rest my arms in my lap which by arrival at Liverpool Street results in an unfortunate sweat patch near my groin area resembling the sight of me having pissed myself. This morning in particular this is received embarrassingly badly as the formerly blonde girl, now having dyed her hair red seemingly in a gesture of personal empowerment, appears to be holding her nose. That said this might actually have more to do with the fat woman sat opposite us covering herself in perfume seemingly paranoid about smelling of sweating. That or she is on the blob.
The train trots into Liverpool Street at 8.06AM with lateness now a boring predictability.
As I cross the bridge to get to the tube platform people appear to persist in getting in the way before others choose to push me out of their way. I cannot win. Too many people have luggage today, are we on the cusp of a new 7/7? Regardless as one person with baggage walks past me and hits me with his bag one time too many I am driven to responding by calling him a “cunt.” As I board the tube I find myself hit with the stench of piss. Welcome to Monday.
When I pull into work everyone is happy today. The big boss gives me a coffee even though I don’t remember/realise that it is his birthday.
Unhindered I have a very productive day to compliment and accompany my efforts on Friday. Things are finally beginning to work out and an end is finally in sight.
A big news story today is how people with eating disorders are now able to buy/purchase Alli online from the Boots website without any problem or refusal. I think my whole family (and some of the extended family) I have tried to buy this stuff. Ultimately the negative news story turns into the best possible advertisement for Boots and inevitably I will wind up purchasing a pack in the vague hope it actually works.
Eventually 5.30PM comes around and we all get to go home. Tonight thankfully the tube and train journeys occur without incident and after a brief visit with the parents at Balkerne Heights I find myself home before 8PM.
Not long after arriving home I find myself falling asleep during Big Brother. These beautiful summer nights are going to waste.