Thursday, 3 December 2009

Thursday 3 December 2009

Dream: I am back working at Butt Road where I am being taken out to a client by Mr Pan with Stevo in tow with view to doing some emergency accounts work.  As Pan does all the talking to the client Stevo and I figure we are surplus to requirements and begin to head off.  As we do so Pan grabs us and tells us to get on with the job.  We head downstairs to an office where all the employees say “hello” to me as if they recognise me.  I am popular.  We go through via the canteen where we grab some food on the way.  Then I hear my current boss shout from an office “the bank said “no”” and we all know what that means.

I’m up and spluttering early this morning.  Getting up at 3AM for a whiz thinking it was 6AM wake up time seemed to offer me some kind of second bout/session of sleep.

I arrive at the station earlier than usual despite the doddering and poodling of the idiots behind the wheels in front of me.  I stop short of honking my horn as the twat in a Fiesta in front of me begins reversing into a space with his reverse light coming on.  Mate, look after your car.  I should report him to the police for first being a cunt and then second having a car that is not road worthy.

To counteract my early efforts of getting to the station typically the trains are screwed up this morning.  Now that they have lost their contract National Express appear to now give even less of a fuck about its service than previous.  As I have to make decisions on alternative trains I avoid the 7.03AM with the extras I know in preference for the less busy 7.07AM where I spot The Wookiee in the process.  Despite her pretty face she sure has a grating and droning voice that really does not match or do her looks justice.  Who am I to judge though, I’m only the hero of this blog and not much else.

Today this is something of an agonising journey.  I don’t want to cough or sneeze in such a confined space but feeling how I currently do obviously this is unavoidable.  Also this is a slow train.  When we reach Witham it always has to sit there until the fast Norwich train has past.  These are frustrating moments as the train fills and on this occasion the short ladies that look like sisters decide to sit next to me and chat for the duration of the journey.  Them and their jowls.

Omens for the day improve tenfold as I spot the Chinese OCD Man at Liverpool Street attempting his biggest project yet as he pulls out a huge pile of copies of The Metro to straighten and place back in the racks in an orderly fashion.  The pile is truly exhaustive and I find myself genuinely drawn to taking a photo to celebrate his unrewarded efforts but then realisation hits me that this would just make me as weird as he.  I briefly look around to see if anyone else is witnessing this wonder, this freaky science but nobody seems to have the time.

Sadly my brief bout of optimism is soon stunted as upon arrival on the tube platform I discover it to be a crush.  Eventually I stagger into work later than usual but in reality exactly on time (9AM).  My initial inspection of the office is thankfully a good one as against expectations it is dry and still standing despite last night’s heavy weather.

Again the day proves to be another scrappy one as I still find myself going over my October accounts rather than sinking my teeth into anything major.  Thankfully though there is no word from the consultant today so in respect of that I am all too happy to continue dotting Is and crossing Ts, which in my flu ridden state is perhaps all that I am really up to at this time.

For a second day running Facebook appears to be urging me to get back in contact with ZoĆ« at Baker Street.  Despite Facebook’s insistence I still don’t think that would be the best of ideas.

After a few days of driving around illegally today I finally remember to pay my car tax.  No more worrying about crashing now.

For lunch I have a fishcake to be honest it tastes crappy.  I now realise why it has been so long since I last had this for lunch.

In the afternoon The Girl begins asking me about Mindy again and when I point her towards her blog she keeps repeatedly telling me how horrible Mindy looks.  Personally I think it is The Teeth that ruins the picture, especially the latest gormless shot of him looking as if he has just learned how to use a fork for the first time (and not very well at that).  When The Girl proceeds to read her entire blog it surprises and astounds as to how much attention she pays to it.

At the end of something of a slog of a day 5.30PM comes around not before time and I get to escape and retire with my flu.  On the tube journey to Liverpool Street I shrink in my seat trying not to spread my germs to those around me.  This unfortunately however gets interrupted by a lady that gets on at Farringdon and tweaks my interest in the fairer sex for the first time in weeks.

I wind up on the 6.30PM train to Norwich as rushing to get on the 6.20PM train just does not make any sense tonight.  Eventually it gets back to Colchester, thankfully without hold up tonight.  Wonders never cease.

Back home I attempt to get a head start on writing but ultimately I just feel rough (too rough to write) so instead not long after getting in I head direct to bed.

Here comes the fun cooker.

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