Tuesday, 27 October 2009

Tuesday 27 October 2009

I wake up feeling exhausted this morning. Coupled with this the day opens with drizzle framing the day in a sour manner.

Despite this I get to the station in good time. So does Son Of Computer Fag who barges his way to Piers to get his spot on the platform. This guy is such a prick.

As I pick up The Metro this morning and notice a picture of a lady I think “hot celebrity” but then unfortunately she turns out to be some random Eastern European prostitute. I am awful.

Currently there is a girl that gets on the train at Chelmsford. Recently she has opted to wearing a blue sequin beret and all in all it just looks fucking stupid, a sure-fire sign that she is an idiot. Today she also proceeds to listen to her iPod very loudly, soundtracking the train journey for all of us. As the extras around me frown while I try to listen to the latest Collings And Herrin podcast on my iPhone I find it being drowned out by Beyonce from across the carriage. Thankfully she gets off at Stratford to a resounding collective sigh of relief from the extras.

I find myself feeling disillusioned today, people ruin everything. My memories of both events yesterday will now forever be tarnished by the actions of dickheads around me. Bill Hicks was truly right: people suck.

On cue the train beaches twice outside Liverpool Street. I feel truly uncomfortable squashed on this train today with my legs tucked in. Despite this it rolls into Liverpool Street at 8.05AM when really the delay feels as if it was a lot longer and the train much more late.

Next on the tube I find myself sat opposite a pig woman eating a pastry and a guy that looks like a Fred Armisen character on SNL. Why do I have to share space with such goofs?

When I change lines at Baker Street there is some kind of minor carnage. Arriving at the Jubilee Line platform the sign reports a nine minute gap/wait until the next train. Is something up with the trains today?

As I head to the nearest seat on the platform for some reason there is a tall scruffy guy stood directly in front of the bench preventing anyone from sitting down. What is he protecting it for or from? What’s going on in his mind?

All while my morning is occurring in front of my eyes I am listening to the new Leyland James Kirby wares. This music is perfect for public transport, its ambient drone echoes through the tube underworld giving it a ghostly and ungodly tone. It makes my day cinematic and suggestive of drama.

Once in the office today this may turn out to be the day that the shit finally hits the fan. Again there is a tension in the air as meetings are held across all three of the other offices on our level/floor. I am afraid to speak to anyone about anything, right now the best plan of action appears to be to keep your head down and do your job without any fucking around.

I plough through the accounts in full knowledge that they will soon begin putting pressure on me for the second quarter of the new company’s account so the bigger the distance and progress I can make on them the better. Preparation ahoy.

After a testing day eventually 5.30PM thankfully comes around and I get to go home. Before I know it I am back home in Colchester where Tuesday night TV is its usual dead end. I don’t last long this evening.

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