Friday 12 June 2009

Today I wake up at 4.30AM cold on top of my duvet instead of under it. Too little too late I curl up beneath it and resume an uncomfortable slumber.

As ever the alarm clock buzzes at 6AM and instead today I roll back over for some additional kip only to burst out of bed at 6.22AM panicking about being late to get ready to leave for work.

Emerging into the day I discover/uncover a text from Tom last night asking what the plan for meeting up tonight is. Whoops, he only arrives into London at 9.15 and realistically I need to be at least heading home by that time in order to put this messy crib back together. Fuck it.

This morning is that latest I have ever left the flat, almost ten minutes beyond the usual and with no chance of catching the 7.03 today.

Part of this delay is due to my putting pads into my shoes today in the hope they cushion the bubble blisters and combat the pain. Almost immediately though on the walk to the station I feel them moving out of the dip in the ball area of the shoe as the pads slip/slope towards the back/heel of the shoe where they will prove/serve absolutely useless. Waste of time.

I get the 7.07 train instead today which is a depressing ride all in its own right.

At Witham a cheesy couple transplant themselves into the seat next to me and obviously I take exception to their happy state. In the process he takes up more than his fair share of the chair next to me while sitting opposite obese or pregnant is his other half obviously pulling the guy’s strings using mind control. Every now and then they touch each other’s leg and it is a truly sickening gesture. When they open their mouths it is just garbage. In response I just increase the volume on my iPod with prompts funny expressions from the pair of them. I bet they do jigsaw puzzles on rainy days and when the kid comes out of her vagina it will either have two heads or be the colour of their milkman. Maybe.

I troll into work disheartened and late. For a second day running I arrive with Nora sat opposite the restaurant and with nobody to let her in to the building.

The morning is a lethargic one finally pulling the April accounts together. Unfortunately the wind has now long since been knocked out of my sails.

For lunch I have the prawns in chilli sauce thing along with some chips to dip into it – sophistication in action. To compliment I add some honey glazed ribs to the mixture and it is amazing.

In the afternoon I finally manage to move onto the May accounts and already I beginning to feel pressure on getting these completed. Ouch, this was a five week month.

At 5PM (home time!) the consultant decides to phone up and request some schedules. Realistically at the best of times if you phone me at 5PM on a Friday asking me for stuff I will be limited in my cooperation but off the back of this guy wrecking my work with no remorse or apology for the act I can only be so accommodating. I curse aloud.

Once he is sorted out I literally run to Liverpool Street to catch the earliest train home possible, in the process running the risk of it being the same one that Sarah is on creating the possibility of snagging another classic awkward moment. Alas I run too fast and instead end up catching the 5.50 train, which is not the one she catches it seems. Relief.

Just prior to this on the tube at Farringdon a lady gets on the tube that genuinely looks like Beyonce. Nice.

After that I spend the train ride home listening to the Tracy Morgan comedy album “Life, Love & Lust”. This is funniest comedy album I have in a long time; his language and descriptions are wicked inventive. As I listen to what he says about “eat pussy until I burp” I actually feel myself beginning to blush and panic at the unlikely event/reality that this could be playing out loud and my fellow commuters may be witnessing my unravelling as some kind of pervert. On Twitter I announce that Tracy Morgan is my new comedy hero.

Back in Colchester on the way home I pop into the olds’ at Balkerne Heights to pop in and see Bobby. Unfortunately I also get suckered into the soaps trap also.

When I finally get home to Bohm Grove there is still no sign of my Vice Magazine subscription. What can I do? I really need my fix/update of American Apparel advertisements and pretty but stupid girls in stupid big glasses and only their undies.

Home I slightly tidy up and write until Have I Got News For You comes on. I’m loving this series, they are truly on form.

Afterwards I have a bath and watch as Sophia (the June Sarpong action figure) gets sadly evicted from the Big Brother house. She was fun to watch but annoying to listen to, much like most people her height and size. Her exit interview isn’t overly endearing as she comes over, much like the rest of weekly evictees, too eager to please.

Tomorrow I will run faster.