Tuesday, 1 December 2009

Tuesday 1 December 2009

I forgot to set my alarm clock last night and as a result when I eventually murmur it is 6.10AM.  For some reason I am particularly horny this morning.

Soon I head out rushing against the clock but ultimately I make the 6.59AM relatively comfortably as ever, walking briskly to the platform from my car listening to “Fire.”

Today when the train stops at Witham the tattoo man gets on again.  For me its no so much that the tattoos on his face look stupid it is more that he chooses to wear a pair of glasses with it.  Surely wearing spectacles can only serve to undermine the impact of a person having had ink burned into his face.  With hindsight quite probably a few squirts from the tattoo artists ink pen hit his eyes and caused the fractional loss in his eyesight.

When the train finally arrives into Liverpool Street I conjure the scorn of a large lady by accidentally stepping on her toe.  As I look up to apologise to her I notice that she has more stubble than me, she practically has a beard.  Had I seen this hardness earlier I would have made more effort not to annoy her.

On the tube platform this morning it sees the return of the Minipino.  She remains as short as ever but today does look a bit more adult.  I guess she dressed herself this morning.

My morning takes a dip as while sitting on the tube a guy resembling Catweazle decides to sit next to me (and half on me).  He smells fucking terrible and makes me feel sick.  It is relief therefore when he fucks off at the first given opportunity.  What is his story?

By the time I emerge from the tube and reach London proper all in all it has turned into a beautiful day.  With no sign of rain and plenty blue sky and sun, I can live with the nip in the air as things are great.

When I get into work, into the restaurant, it is empty.  As I’ve probably said countless times previously this is when it is at its best, no commotion, no noise, just the pure calm before the day ahead.  With this I grab a bottle of sparkling water from behind the bar and head upstairs to face whatever awaits.

Tucked away in my desk is a remaining pink glazed doughnut from yesterday which I quickly scoff before anybody else comes in and lays claim to it.  This is not how should be consumed and savoured.

On the radio again today is Vernon Kay but today I put up with it, indulging in and listening to Ronan Keating speaking uninformed stupid shit about the Thierry Henry incident.  Yes, this guy sure is qualified to comment on football.  After years of singing nancy songs and stopping short of swishing around in a dress, he is now an expert of football.  I only point this out because at the end of the news segment they repeat his moronic comments, infuriating me twice as much as originally.  With the dumb as dirt Comedy Dave verbally nodding in agreement in the background this really is not news!

On the subject of Thierry Henry today I discover that he is not actually on the American version of the Gillette adverts where the respective sportsmen dangerously fire their respective sporting equipment at the poor guy while he is trying to shave.  In America instead they get Derek Jeter.

The Filipino turns up and shortly after her arrival the big boss comes into our office and gives us both a cup of coffee.  After the recent tension between us has he now flipped and turned super nice?  What’s going on?

Today I post my first entry on the Facebook Cull blog.  Early feedback has been really good as today I chop Ellen Simonetti who was another person dismissed for blogging who I very briefly befriended for a while during my period of unemployment circa 2004/2005.

My day progresses with more post accounts review of the October figures.  Perhaps I should have done this review before I sent the figures over to the powers that be.

For lunch today I have chargrilled chicken.  It tastes so good.

I realise today that so many people of my generation are in middle management due to growing up playing Championship Manager on their computer.  Unfortunate.

The absolute highlight of the day comes in the afternoon when Scott Mills takes the piss out of the Radio One “Masterpiece Album” series by choosing the first Busted album and actually aiming to play the entire thing from start to finish as they apparently barricade themselves in the studio.  Its so funny.  At one point Zane Lowe turns up and rather than remonstrating he encourages Mills to keep going.  Despite all the gusto attached to Lowe (the indie Westwood) I actually think he comes over as a pretty decent guy.

Beyond a relatively eventless afternoon I manage to get to Liverpool Street at 6.16PM this evening as once more I stomp across the station in my latest act of train station gridiron.  Today happily there no casualties, no angry ladies shouting swear words at me.

The journey home however is not a good one as the train dies at Hatfield Peveral.  Anytime time spent at Hatfield Peveral tends to be time not well spent.  Over the train PA the female Information Jimmy announces that the train in front has broken down.  She then proceeds to inform us that the train is running ten minutes late but it doesn’t appear to have actually moved for ten minutes.  Surely in order for a train to be running late it has to be moving.

Eventually things get running again until the train once more beaches, this time at Kelvedon and suddenly I find myself having flashbacks to Angry Adnams in the summer.  Frustratingly while we sit at Kelvedon two trains go past us and I begin to rightly wonder just what the fuck is up with this shit?

Finally the train gets back to Colchester around 8.45PM a whole hour and a half later than it should have arrived.  This is nothing short of a fucking joke of a service that is provided by National Express.

Unsurprisingly with an abundance of grouchy commuters all arriving at Colchester at the same time this means it takes an eternity to get out of the station car park this evening.  This is the cherry on top of the cake.

Now back in Colchester I head directly home to collect mum’s birthday presents.  Annoyingly I don’t have time to wrap them as I barely have time to hand them out.  As I arrive at my Balkerne Heights dad is taking the dog out for a walk.  Immediately upon spotting me Bobby jumps up at me.

Stepping into my parents place tonight straight away I spot a Mickey Mouse telephone I don’t think I have ever seen before – was that what dad got mum for her birthday?

In the end I do the present thing to varying degrees of success as mum acts appreciative of all the presents without actually knowing what many of them are.  When dad returns from walking the dog he immediately opens the marshmallow Fluff spread and begins tasting it.  He then puts a dab of it on the end of our dog’s nose and we all laugh as he attempts to lick it off.  We’re evil.

On Sky tonight Manchester United reserves are finishing off Tottenham reserves in the Carling Cup quarter final.  Please lets put this tournament out of its misery already.

Eventually I head home just before 10PM.  Driving home the real Radio One Masterpiece Album tonight is the first Streets album which sounds really great, holding up surprisingly well.  Forgetting what Mike Skinner has done since, the first record was a genuinely good one.

When I finally step into my flat I again fall asleep watching Entourage for a second night running.

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