Tuesday 30 March 2010
Today is met with a rough welcome. Once again I wake up in a funny position in my bed and as a result a slight headache accompanies my arrival.
I can’t get a decent reception on my TV again this morning. What is this the fucking sixties?
Eventually driving to the station upon arrival I manage to snag a very decent spot although it is a true squeeze due to the wanker car to my left parking like a true cunt. I hope he gets keyed and that when opening his door he does not dink my prized Focus.
Every morning now there is a gaggle of middle-aged men sat on my carriage. Generally they spend the journey discussing football although I don’t hear much in the way of sense out of them. They are led by a Paul Sturrock lookalike and amongst their number is a Ralph Steadman lookalike complete with severe jowls. It’s literally a gang.
At Witham a slightly frightening moment occurs as a beast decides to sit opposite us. I hope she doesn’t wig out and go mental before the end of the journey although I have to admit she looks liable to.
Later at Ingatestone a plate crowder couple plop themselves next to me. From here onwards he proceeds to crush me to the point that I get a dead arm. All journey I think he and her make smart comments/gestures about the volume of my iPhone and the podcast playing within. Please Ingatestone will you one day give me something to suggest to me that everything that comes from you is a piece of shite.
Once up town and on the tube a black guy stands in our carriage with a rucksack and a badge attached that says “my ass tastes like candy.” What the fuck is that about?
Finally I reach St Johns Wood and work with me being the first person into the restaurant. With this acknowledge my efforts by treating myself to an orange juice from the bar. It’s the same things.
Unfortunately the computers are fucked again. No emails but I do get everything else. It’s a sad state of affairs when our chef is the person trying to repair our network.
The restaurant today is the scene of the quarterly manager’s meeting when all the heads from the various sites congregate around our circle table and get shouted at before launching into laughter before ending with group applause. It all seems a weird state of affairs, a most interesting management and motivation method. Truly I am glad/relieved that I don’t get dragged into them. I think the shouting would cause me to blush too much.
Annoyingly today gets written off due to my headache and I never really get going or accomplish anything. Things are then not assisted when the Filipino comments to me that she is bored, already missing The Girl who by now is well into Ghana.
Eventually 5.30PM comes around and with it a truly shit journey home tonight. When I arrive at Baker Street the notice board declares a twelve-minute wait for the next tube. This does not suit. Ultimately this is the kind of journey that truly makes me hate humanity.
In the end I wind up on the 6.30PM Norwich train and as I sit down I spot that Richard Readings guy from Balkerne Heights. We clock each other and I give him a halfway smile, not really knowing him well enough to fully acknowledge but possibly enough to cause him to threaten me with a lawsuit over the website.
Halfway through the journey Information Jimmy says that he has two announcements to make. First it turns out that during all four days over Easter the line to London is going to be wrecked by engineering work. Then secondly Information Jimmy reminds us of the industrial action being threatened for next Tuesday to Friday. Really what kind of mentality are we supposed to take from this? First the rail service is going to cause chaos for four days and THEN it is going to hold a strike? As I’ve always said the levels of contempt these people (National Express East Anglia) show to their customers is truly the stuff of disgust.
Once back in Colchester I hit Asda. Tonight I buy Chinese chicken wings in an act of self-pity and comfort eating.
When I finally get home I watch Jon Stewart and happily this edition of The Daily Show features John Oliver twice, the second time during a bit about a racist basketball league. Well I guess it is a little bit unfair that black players are far superior to their white counterparts meaning honky never gets a game. It’s like the Harlem Globetrotters all over again only this time in reverse. Power to the (white) people!