Thursday, 10 September 2009

Thursday 10 September 2009

“Do whatever you want with the girl but leave me alone.”

There is a true chill in the air today and boy do I now regret sleeping with my window open last night.

The photos from last night were not good for the self esteem. For starters I need to lose the beard, the Zach Galifianakis look really does not appear to be working for me. And then there is the girth. I have such a weird body shape, barrel chested I guess – a very large barrel.

I have reached some conclusions this morning, most of which are based on envy. Currently there are certain people in my life that are not good for me and are wolves in sheep’s clothing spouting nonsense and serving their own needs. I will not be able to lift them up, they will only serve to drag me down. People persistently patronise me but at the end of the day for a working class stiff I am fucking topping most silver spooner types that I know.

Importantly though I need to get focused. As much as last night served to inspire me unfortunately for some reason the part afterwards (the meeting Nick Cave) almost immediately served to undo all the good work and motivation.

After a brisk walk I get to the station at 6.53AM this morning. This is my record. Why am I suddenly so efficient with timekeeping?

For a second day running the balding guy from the Boring Couple From Chelmsford sits in the seat next to me with his back to me. At least he doesn’t jab me with his elbow as much today. This guy really bugs me.

Today I am listening to the latest Tank Riot podcast and their subject of choice is Ayn Rand. Recently Martin ploughed through one of her two opuses and came away not exactly full of praise for the work. I have to say because of the sheer size of the book I am not likely to ever attempt to read either of them (“Atlas Shrugged” or “The Fountainhead”) which is perhaps my lose and my understanding is that old Ayn had a lot to say for herself. She is often quoted when people discuss Hunter S Thompson’s political leanings and that he was a Libertarian which is concept I believe/understand Rand was an early figurehead of.

Eventually the train pulls into Liverpool Street at 8.05AM. I’m too tired to feel outraged.

Walking into work I come to the conclusion that I am sick of the beard now and it is time to shave. I guess I’ll do that next week so when I return to work clean shaven the following week it will represent a clean and fresh start.

Our boss returns fresh from his scan. He is thankfully high in spirits and there don’t appear to be any immediate panic. While I talk to him across the room I notice a mouse scurry under The Girl’s chair and desk and I scream. Its not a loud scream but it is vocal enough to be embarrassing.

When The Girl eventually turns up it is to sight of me acting strangely around her desk while I attempt to flesh the rodent out. As soon as I tell her that there is a mouse in our room she goes up the wall, refusing to sit at her desk for fear of the thing climbing up her leg.

For the remainder of the day while the mouse makes occasional cameo appearances The Girl continues to be on her edge. At one point I see the mouse’s tail popping out from beneath the filing cabinets behind her and I can’t help but giggle at it.

Later when the mouse pops its head out from the corner of the cupboards behind me I give catching it another attempt and as I grab my bin to put it in The Girl points at the laces on my Airwalks thinking that it is the mouse’s tail and screams which prompts me to scream as a result. Apparently this makes me a coward. I would say that in the long run the scream was more of a scream of excitement than one of fear.

As things calm down before we know it is lunch and today I have a lamb burger.

The afternoon doesn’t see the workload getting any lighter on the accounts for the new company and my boss is now (finally) looking at the figures closely and realising that the stuff the outsource guy did was not quite up to scratch, more from a misunderstanding from him of the accounts system rather than incompetence. We go through a long list of stuff together but it feels futile and when he spends periods of the extra time on the phone to his wife I find myself tapping my finger and getting frustrated.

Eventually I end up catching the 6.48PM train home which is a hobo train and sadly not one of the comfy Norwich trains. I feel niggled at having had to work late off the back of other people’s shoddy output. As ever I do not feel responsible for this but I appear to be suffering the consequences.

I get home for my Thursday evening, evenings that are now getting darker by the day (night). Summer will be a distant memory before long.

On BBC2 tonight is the third of three documentaries called The Love Of Money which serves to explain what happened with the collapse of the Lehman Brothers bank, which it does so efficiently and effectively with some big gun talking heads.

Afterwards I fall asleep.

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