Monday, 5 October 2009

Monday 5 October 2009

Today does not begin very well. Outside it is pitch black and as a result I cannot be motivated or bothered to move even though I am awake several minutes before my alarm clock sounds off.

When I eventually leave the flat I am seriously/severely late and then as I step out of the front door I find myself confronted by an old man with a small dog stood motionless opposite our apartment complex. Is this an apparition? Is he a ghost of a former neighbour? Is he the Hollytree Court Night Of The Hunter? I have to admit when I see him I almost jump out of my skin, nearly screaming and definitely hopping. Who is he? He is The Ghost.

Finally at the station I wind up catching the 7.07AM train which brings about the return of The Wookiee to my mornings. She still looks fantastic but also she still does not smile at me.

It is weird catching this slightly later train. For some reason it sits at Witham for several minutes I think to allow a quicker Norwich train to pass. With it brings various faces I have seen before. Eventually due to the pause at Witham the train arrives into Liverpool Street at 8.15AM, a whole quarter of an hour later than the train before it that left Colchester four minutes earlier. I may as well be a fucking trainspotter for the manner in which I closely mentally record these journeys.

Getting into Liverpool Street slight later means I get into work slightly later and when I arrive it is to the sight of The Girl who has been in the office since 7.30AM. She has recently moved to Clapham and today when she drove in she severely overcompensated. It is pretty funny and ironic considering how she has been late almost every day this year. Consider me tickled.

Today I have a good day sinking my teeth into the September accounts being able to produce a lot for not too much grey matter or concentrate. This is the portion of the monthly accounts I can do on autopilot.

In the afternoon we wait around for the consultant to show but as the day draws to an end he doesn’t turn up.

Around 4.30PM a set of Eastern European employees stomp into my boss’s office arguing over a pay issue that turns into more of a domestic issue cum financial issue. Luckily I am able to stay out of it but do you remember the guy from July? It is all about him and his family. Threats have been made and bank details have been “borrowed.”

In the midst of all the drama around 4.50PM the consultant turns up. What the fuck is he thinking turning up at this time? Is he really expecting us to begin a meeting on the cusp of home time? What world is he from? Fortunately in the end my boss highlights the shitstorm he is currently in the middle of and the consultant thinks better of hanging around.

Today ends in a bad way. Through her mindnumbing stupidity The Girl manages to make me feel depressed and down about myself today as she makes barbed comments for some reason. In a way this undoes all the good work of yesterday’s confidence boost.

Out of work this evening I arrive at Liverpool Street only to find that the 6.20PM to Norwich has not even arrived yet. When it finally does turn up the Webb sisters emerge/exit from it just as I board. They say “hello” and I whimper something out in response. This is a low.

On the train I feel lost and humiliated with no iPhone. In comparison this two year old iPod looks so dated and old hat. Things then go further downhill as a Szesze lookalike sits opposite me on the train reminding me of what I potentially blew.

Bored without any internet on the train I set about filling in the diary on my old Nokia phone, basically I just need something to type into in order to while away the journey. Things also aren’t assisted by the fact that only about 230 songs transferred onto the iPod and by the end of the day I have already done a lap of the songs I want to hear.

When I get off at Colchester I try to buy a car park ticket for tomorrow onwards and they tell me that they haven’t sold tickets for it since January. The guy tells me this holding back his laughter as yet again I manage to embarrass myself yet again today. Later when I get to Balkerne Heights I buy a monthly car park ticket at my parents place. It costs £92.50. Talk about money for old jam, fucking hell for that price I want my car also washed and valeted on a daily basis. How on earth can they (NCP and National Express) justify such a charge? Supply and demand in the modern world I suppose.

After being fleeced on this I head home and ride out the evening attempting to do some writing.

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