Monday 15 February 2010
Dream: my company appears to have transplanted itself to ATP and the Minehead venue. Initially I start out sharing a chalet/apartment with my regular ATP cohorts (Racton, Justin etc) but soon they are replaced by work types including the IT Guy, the suave chef and the flirty black waitress. As faces change I find myself commenting that its not been the same since Justin left. At this point I begin questioning whether I have been working at/for the company for too long now.
My night’s sleep is fairly disrupted by this, when dozing I crave and desire more sleep but just cannot fall back asleep after my initial awaking.
Today is freezing. This was not expected; I thought we were over this now. After scraping the frost off my car I eventually get to the train station where I proceed to freeze upon stepping on the platform. On the platform this morning some guy is wheeling a set of golf clubs onto a commuter train. What is this? Caddyshack?
The train journey into town is nondescript. I am so tired today and have such a heavy week ahead of me. I crave stamina. Closing in on London the train annoyingly beaches at Maryland. I thought we were over this already.
When I finally get to Liverpool Street I realise that I have forgotten to put my watch on. What an idiot, I am truly a firm believer that you cannot trust a person who does not wear a watch and I guess today that is what I resemble.
From here my trawl to work comes with a sense of shame. As I step through the front doors of the building the angry boss is sat there with the restaurant manager. When I pronounce “morning” he responds with “what’s good about it?” I shrug, no comment.
I arrive into work with no emails from the consultant. This is unexpected and feels like a break although it does fuck up my work plan for the day somewhat. Without his direction or permission to push on with the January accounts I am only going to be scraping around for work today.
Slowly people filter in and the week begins. It’s a drab atmosphere in the office and at one point I actually ask The Girl if she has a dose of “the Mondays” just in order to wind her up and liven things up.
In the end I muddle through the morning doing groundwork on the January accounts and little else. Its stuff that needs doing but not stuff that will resemble anything for show at the close of proceedings.
With Spoon tomorrow it suddenly transpires that a certain friend is coming along which yet again equates to crossing streams and them muscling in on my dwindling social circle when the exchange isn’t necessarily going in the other direction. In other words I am not being invited to any of their social events so why should they now be getting an in on mine? Now I know how ridiculous, childish and petty this all sounds coming from a 33 year old but at the same time it is something that genuinely causes me concern and annoyance. Me and my shadow.
Eventually the day ends and I get to head home. Tonight the tube journey is arduous, boring with nothing to prove.
When I finally get on a train there are so many people with bags on seats tonight. These people should be forced to buy tickets for their luggage. Revenue would go up and my travelcard cost would go down. Everyone decent would win.
Once again this evening I arrive back home with the best of intentions to do something constructive but ultimately I am just too tired to muster up any real energy with which to face any of it. I can’t even be bothered to head to Asda to go get milk. So instead I wind up eating a tub of Jalapeno houmous while Jon Stewart plays out on the TV in the background.
At 9PM the Generation Jihad programme arrives on BBC2. What are on earth is the point of this documentary? Pushing the message that is coming across it just makes you fearful (and thus hateful) of and to Muslims. This is genuinely reckless broadcasting, fuelling existing prejudices and perceptions.
Thankfully Nurse Jackie arrives at 10PM and scores another solid hit, seldom in TV do you ever see someone so numb to life. I could almost say it was admirable.