Monday 22 February 2010
Dream: I am driving to an ATP with my dad, my uncle and my cousin. It has now been literally years since we have seen or spoken to these relatives, perhaps as far back as my 21st birthday in 1997. The road trip is being slightly blighted by the threat of being attacked and abducted by bikers, which is something that apparently is occurring on our motorways at the moment. This fear is increased by the vision of a convoy of such bikers riding past up between Kirby and Weeley. Later we stop off at a supermarket for a break. Inside it looks like the Texas Homecare I used to work at in the mid nineties now having been transformed into a Tesco store. My cousin heads to the bathroom to clean his teeth and freshen up and being my elder/senior he advises that I do likewise. I however am more focused on getting a drink to refreshen me and walking up the aisles I appear to be searching for something special, something that I just cannot find. When I eventually reach the far corner a popular fridge appears to be taking centre stage with everyone in the store grabbing at it for drinks. People continue to scrabble through the cans, bottles and other items. Unfortunately I can’t find anything I want but my uncle (a passive villain of the lamest kind) uncovers a large can of eggnog akin to the one I bought at Christmas and he offers to buy it for me despite being £7. Quite an offer from a notorious tightwad.
This morning I wake ahead of my alarm clock wondering if I actually bothered to set it last night at all. When however I check my watch the time is 5.55AM and feebly I attempt to squeeze out those remaining five minutes of sleep. Fail.
Unsurprisingly I am slow moving as a result but at least it is moving all the same. Annoyingly I still feel tired and my eyes actually hurt to open. My eyesight is genuinely flagging, I blame the DS.
Outside it is pissing down, the rain is super heavy and super depressing with it. This weather has to be the worst start to any year in recent memory, perhaps my adult life. As a result of this I have to wait for my train under the shelter huddled with too many other extras for my liking.
When I finally get on the train there is no heating on it. It actually feels that if anything the air con is on and I feel like it is systematically freezing my lower body, which might mean my legs will not be working by the time we arrive (eventually) at Liverpool Street. This train is blatantly defective but with National Express being on the way out they just don’t care. I only pay £4600 for my ticket, its not as if that is enough money to buy a half decent car or anything. Oh, wait….
I spent the journey listening to a James Ellroy reading and Q&A podcast. On it he sounds more interested and enthusiastic for the event compared to the one I went to. Annoyingly he is actually a pretty interesting and entertaining (and likeable) guy but I’ll be fucked if he displayed this at the Southbank late last year.
The train eventually reaches Liverpool Street at 8.03AM. Late.
From here the ride across town is an understated one lacking in drama and consequence. When I eventually emerge at St Johns Wood it is still drizzling. I find myself passing the Maggie Cheung lookalike, in not quite the same manner as a scene from In The Mood For Love (which is showing at the Prince Charles tonight, perhaps this is a sign to encourage me to head to see it).
Once into work today is yet another worrying write off of a day. The bosses are away again but even despite that there isn’t much for me to be doing or getting on with. Will the consultant pull his fucking finger out now, please.
In the office today it is just The Girl and I (the Filipino is still in Spain) and initially all is fine between us but eventually by the end of the day we are at each other.
For lunch I have sausage, beans and mash, our menu equivalent of “I don’t fucking care today.” I am mature to the end.
Despite the lack of work thankfully the day doesn’t drag. Away from this though I do begin to find myself feeling overwhelmed by everything I need to get done in my life. This is proving such a cumbersome distraction right now, especially when so much of it is personal life stuff, a personal life that barely amounts to a couple of hours free time at home.
Eventually 5.30PM comes around and with it escape. After a swift tube ride across town I soon find myself at Liverpool Street boarding a 6.20PM to Norwich. Unfortunately tonight it is 7.10PM by the time it just reaches Chelmsford. At this point the train beaches and Information Jimmy announces that the delay is being caused by congestion. He states that the train is running 15 minutes late and it feels like a fucking lie.
When I eventually get home I endeavour to do some writing bearing in mind that I have tomorrow off work and anything I get done tonight will represent a healthy head start for tomorrow.
All falls down as soon I find myself flagging and heading to bed.