Tuesday, 24 November 2009

Tuesday 24 November 2009

My Tuesday begins when I wake up in the middle of the night with the theme music to St Elsewhere disturbing my sleep.  This TV show reminds me of horrific and innocent times, when Channel Four was new and they had nothing else to show and I was wrestling with the horrors of school.

Later as the alarm rings at 6AM I pull myself and get ready swiftly with view to dropping the car off with dad so that he can take my car to the garage for its MOT.  When I get in my car the Network Rail van is gone from my parking space.  As I stop by their house at 6.45AM and it is nice seeing Bobby first thing in the morning.

I get the 6.59AM easily with dad taking my car back to their place and later the garage.  I worry about his driving, he is now classic cranky old man not worrying about cutting people up and/or indicating when at roundabouts and junctions.  Typically last night the petrol light came on so I also ask dad nicely if he will put some petrol in the car, leaving him my last £10 in the process.

Sitting on the train this morning it is opposite a weird looking woman listening to an iPod in a pink holder at excessive levels.  Her iPod proceeds to almost drown out my own iPhone as it churns out what sounds like awful eighties MOR power rock.  How can a person still listen to this shit without feeling crucifying shame?  Luckily she gets off at Chelmsford and takes her tunes with her, hopefully back to the eighties along with her hairstyle.

Unsurprisingly the train gets held up today, this is just the way they roll at the moment.  As we near Liverpool Street a female Information Jimmy informs us that the delay is due to “traffic congestion at Stratford.”  Again this is not an excuse.

Eventually I get into work not quite housing the focus or energy that possessed me yesterday but still I manage to maintain some kind of gameplan in mind.  This then comes coupled with The Girl phoning to say that she will be late.  Why do I bother when others do not?

The day takes on a sour note when Fritzl comes in dumping some boxes of A4 paper in our room making a smart comment about how he asked us to move them yesterday.  No he made a smart comment regarding the boxes yesterday that did not warrant response.  I will not be spoken to in certain tones, you may as well speak to me in Swahili for all the recognition I will give it.  The fucking thing is that the boxes have sat there for six weeks now.  Again though it is just him taking something out on our department because some kind of recent shift in levity makes him think he can get away with it.

Things do not improve as the heavy metal manager comes up and plops a new staff menu (complete with spelling mistakes, did he do exams?) in our lap.  The Girl currently at odds with him seems to think he takes glee in dropping this on us.  Personally I feel it is very unnecessary as we do not take the piss with regards to ordering food from the kitchen at lunch, we still treat it as a privilege instead of a right.  Just because certain members of his staff are fucking and giving favours to chefs and getting steaks in the process does not mean we are all on the hustle.  I pick up the menu and see little difference in it from what we order already.  This is so unnecessary, just another exercise in belittling our department I feel.

I do however notice that salmon is on the menu.  Recently because of issues with the fish supplier we have been kindly asked/requested not to order/request fish dishes and happily we have complied with this.  Fuck it now though, if they’re gonna get petty, I’m going to get petty and order fish until I sprout gills.

From here onwards unfortunately a shit atmosphere follows and takes hold but at least I find myself able cash in with another strong day.

For lunch on cue I return to the chargrilled salmon dish with new potatoes, beans and hollandaise sauce.  This is a great dish, easily one of the restaurant’s best.

By the close of the day the accounts are looking the most thorough and therefore the best they have been all year.  To compliment this our boss lets us out a little early and with it I suspect he wants a drink but I can’t afford to hang around so I make my excuses regarding my car and its MOT.

Getting out early means I am able to catch the 6PM Norwich train, the Sarah train, but eventually I don’t see or bump into her on it.  In the end I get to Liverpool Street around 5.57PM and as I run across the station to the train I accidentally stand on the foot/heal of some slow black lady poodling along.  Immediately she reacts with venom as she hurls vocal abuse back at me beginning “fuck…..”  As a result of this reaction immediately in the most evil manner I feel no remorse for what I just accidentally did to her, I even begin giggling in the process.

Later as a result of karma she probably proves the reason why the train is hellaciously rammed this evening.  I do at least see (gawp at) The Wookiee for the first time in weeks (maybe months) but soon it becomes apparent that I will be standing for the entire journey home tonight.  This I begin to realise is the Wanker Train.  With my current state of health as it is this turns out to be bad, a near crippling thing for me at this time.

Not before time the train gets back to Colchester and with it relief.  Invariably I bump into The Wookiee leaving the station, could I be any more obvious in having a crush on her?  Tonight I notice she has a real spring in her step, maybe she is getting some.

Even though Dad offered to pick me up I decide to walk to their place and get some exercise in the process.  In a way I want to use this experience as some kind of gauge as to my current state of health and register any potential decline since I have ceased walking to and from the train station daily.  As I do the walk thankfully my chest does not tighten to the degree that I was fearing and I don’t quite get out of breath as much as I was fearing I would but it is still enough to cause some concern.  Walking up Balkerne Hill as ever wanker joggers begin zipping past me as if to express some kind of territoriality over the way.  Really, don’t these fucks have lives?  Do they live to jog because this is the impression that I am getting from them.

When I eventually get back to the olds Bobby is immediately all over me.  Later however as we mess around with his play biting me we accidentally knock heads and he bites the part of head between my eyes and the bridge of my nose causing it to bleed and scab.  That’s going to look cool tomorrow.

My car easily passed its MOT test today.  There were a few minor issues but they resolved them onsite so when the bill comes to just under £110 I feel I cannot complain.

Tonight I have another crack at repairing dad’s computer but I can’t get it done.  It would appear to me now that there is a crippling virus on it and as such it is not allowing me to go online and run it through Panda or something.  Part of me worries that it is due to the weird file that has suddenly appeared on my 1.5TB external drive I have attached to their computer.  Of course I don’t admit or express this worry to him.  As I attempt to mend his PC I pretty much fall asleep at his computer so soon afterwards I head home feeling flat having failed in my attempts to repair things.

Elsewhere this evening Millwall draw 1-1 at Exeter which can only be considered two points lost.  From the last three supposedly easy games they have only got two points from what should have been a simple nine.  Why does football mock me?

Upon getting home I set about watching the latest episode of Californication which only manages to see me falling asleep after a few minutes.

The end.

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