Tuesday 5 January 2010

I cannot recall a colder this winter than this morning.

With that in mind I leave the flat well prepared, leaving home early in the process with view to facing what lay ahead of me full on.  As I pull out of Layer Road I spot a rogue greyhound running along the street.  Was this the same dog from a few weeks ago?  Is it even real?

I arrive at the station with the time at 6.47AM this morning, which equates to a twelve minute freezing wait on the platform.  Why can’t I ever time these things correctly?

The journey is one that I appear to sleep through this morning.  Is it me or did our train not bother to stop at Kelvedon this morning?

At Chelmsford a plate crowder decides to sit next to me, crushing me in my seat.  Subsequently as a result of this the remainder of my journey is spent with my right leg feeling as if it is about to pop out of its socket.  This ride is truly agony this morning.

Unsurprisingly the train eventually beaches, today at Maryland meaning inevitably the train pulls into Liverpool Street late.  Things are now certainly back to normal.

Today I have “Rebellion (Lies)” by Arcade Fire on loop in my head (and thus later on loop in my iPhone).  There are definitely worse songs in the world to have revolving around my head at this time.

Things are still feeling good today, optimism for 2010 is maintaining.  Later as I change tube lines at Baker Street there doesn’t appear to be anything getting in my way.

When I eventually step into work the vibe is good.  The Filipino is back today and it is great to see her and hear that she had a nice Christmas (unlike everybody else it would seem).  Alas with her return The Girl decides to begin starting on me again.

After an OK morning for lunch I return to having penne today, the carb heavy dish I only seem to eat when I am feeling sorry for myself or confident in my girth.  After Christmas surprisingly it is the latter.

During my lunch break I find myself scouring the Norman Records website for the new Deerhoof double seven inch and in the process I discover numerous Gringo Records titles in their sale section going for 60p.  Additionally I also come across a couple of Twist seven inches and various Grand Royal releases.  For anyone that enjoyed indie music in 1998 this sale is the bomb!

The afternoon sees my finally finishing the new company’s bank reconciliation, which is a good thing and a minor accomplishment as the slow grind back in working activity continues.

Tonight are drinks to celebrate the 30^th birthday of one of the managers.  Yikes, I thought she was somewhat older than me, not almost three and a half years younger.  Dare I suggest that she looks that way?

The drinks are being held at a place in Covent Garden called Dirty Martini and despite having a few reservations about a place going by such a name I agree to tag along, if nothing else its just nice to be asked along.

I head over to Covent Garden with the IT Guy where we meet up with a couple of people outside the station.  Typically the organiser is nowhere to be seen, he is getting a new tattoo.

When we get to the place it is in the basement of a building making it dark, purple and slightly poncy in the process.  Thankfully though it is not too busy and comfy as a result.  We have a reserved table and its all gravy.

Early on pink champagne gets purchased which pretty much sets the tone for the evening.  Pink champagne always makes me shudder as I consider how my bosses at Butt Road would always buy it in the old people’s nightclub in Colchester in an effort to impress.  To me it always tasted rank and revolting.

We scour the menu for drinks unconcerned by the cost of the evening for some reason.  After a false start I then come across a Chocolate Martini for the win, which tastes half like an alcoholic cold hot chocolate and half like heated ice cream.  For the win!

Later I experiment with something called a Blame Canada before getting generic and hobbling onto the Long Island Ice Teas in-between a couple of rounds of Jagerbombs that go down so amazingly well.  I am truly behind in the race for the discovery of this drink, which is the best thing ever.

All evening the Heavy Metal Manager keeps going on about this Tucker Max guy and he makes out that the book is the greatest thing ever written.  The guy does sound a bit try hard but I have to say I am intrigued.  In order to keep things light and positive though I remark how cool it sounds when really all sounds quite clichéd and forced.  We’ve all had bad sex; you can dress it up only so far in print.

Ultimately I get Andre Drunk, a state whereby I intake a lot more alcohol that my body is letting on.  Originally I had planned to leave around 7PM but instead I make moves around 10PM after the IT Guy tells me of his idea for a business/company.

Tonight I have much more fun than I did at the bowling night.  I guess I at least know these people so pretending to like them is made that much easier as a result.

On course I manage to grab the 10.30PM train home to Norwich.  Still very surprisingly I do not feel drunk, which can only be a good thing as I fear what is ahead of me snow wise back in Essex.  Positively on the train I do not feel ill or wobbly, I just feel tired.

When I get home The Big Bang Theory is on TV, which I couple with a bottle of green tea to make for a pretty decent descent into sleep.