Thursday 9 July 2009

Dream: Jim Martin is hanging outside our restaurant and when I see him I go running out to chat to him. Only just earlier in the day (the dream) I had found myself back on Baker Street dealing with a Domino band that had just recorded a cover version of a Faith No More song, which it turns out that Jim Martin had a lot of songwriting credit on and it turns out that he is over to attend a court case. He now looks like Weird Al Yankovic and as I try to get Chris to take a photograph of us together Chris just frustratingly fucks around. Later when I check the photos they are “arty”, in other words they are terrible.

This morning I wake up at 5.30 feeling comfortable before rolling back under my duvet back for more sleep. When my alarm eventually buzzes at 6AM I dispute that it is supposed to be ringing at this time. Who I am actually disputing to/with is something of a mystery.

Before I know it though my day has happened and somehow I am on a train. Talk about stagger through life on autopilot. At Kelvedon a middle-aged woman in white go-go boots gets on. Inappropriately it’s a good look.

Generally I am in a good mood today. As I look over at the Asian lady in glasses I appear to be infatuated with I think the source of my fondness may be due to her amazing hair as it reminds me of a Wookiee.

The train pulls into Liverpool Street at 8.04. No comment.

Today I am worried about my eyes again as I look across the tube platform at Liverpool Street and find myself struggling to make out facial features and even expressions of my fellow passengers and commuters. This is not a huge distance and I should not be struggling to see across it.

At Farringdon the PA system is feeding back and it sounds like the end of the world is occurring. A mild panic ripples through my fellow commuters/passengers except for the annoying cunt kids to my right who persist in singing “We Are The World.” I can’t tell if they are being genuine or sarcastic but I do know that it is drowning out Sonic Youth on my iPhone. This is the REAL sonic youth. Next when they get bored of singing this they proceed to start kicking and punching each other just like other kids do. ASBOlutely.

I trawl into work happy this morning, enduring the roadworks along Loudoun Road with good humour and mild amusement. I am the white Uncle Remus.

Today is the one year anniversary of one of our companies going into administration, that strange day when I was called into work because the old FC had belted his girlfriend and was locked up in jail while we needed somebody to process the wages through the computer. As I rode the train up sat opposite Suzi Quattro by the time I had left the house and arrived in the office the administrators had stormed into work mob handed and determined. The office and restaurant is such a different place now, definitely for the better. The culture of the place appears to have completely changed and the environment is now even pleasurable to be in. That said roof and ceiling are still providing something of a bespoke skylight, letting in the rain and the winds. It is a good job that it happened during the summer.

The Girl trots in at 9.11 thinking that it is a good effort. Here is a girl that lives about ten minutes away by car and yet she is too lazy to even come in on time.

Today I have a lot to make up for the waste of a day that were the stunted efforts of yesterday.

Unfortunately soon the disruptions begin as the consultant sends in some cryptic adjustments that as ever make no clear sense. Next the posh boss happily points out how my April accounts schedules/spreadsheets have suffered yet another links fuck up. Finally the doddery old fucker that has balls the new company’s accounts up pesters me with some non-point/issue about nominals. A draft set of June accounts are due tomorrow and with all this happening there is no fucking chance of me being able to deliver that.

Depressed by lunchtime today I have penne with merguez which is a carb heavy dish and these days a real treat and indulgence.

Early afternoon I find myself being pulled off the consultant’s adjustments with a query about the ageing of the purchase ledger. Suddenly there is some kind of panic being emitted from the bank and now I am being dragged off my work onto a secondary duty/concern to deal with this stuff which is an issue that has only arisen because the accounts are being rushed and prepared in the wrong sequence not being fully and thoroughly completed in the process and I am being pushed to do a months accounts (a months work) in the space of four days. This demoralises me.

We do the job but rushed and badly, these people seem more concerned with getting figures done quickly rather than correctly.

Today at one point The Girl accuses me of doing nothing and being lazy at work some days. Talk about spectacularly destroy your glass house.

At the end of the day I go home feeling fed up.

Again on the train I see the Japanese Epiphany Girl, which only serves to bolster my misery. I restart watching In Treatment with the third Hope Davis episode. I’m not so sure that this is good stuff to be watching when feeling low.

Once back in Colchester I head direct to the olds’ at Balkerne Heights. There things are as per.

Tonight when I eventually get home to Bohemian Grove I FINALLY knock my ATP review on the head.

Afterwards I begin watching the new series of Mock The Week. After a minute Frankie Boyle makes some extreme comment and Russell Howard guffaws “we’re back” as if they are being really edgy and dangerous. I don’t know, these guys are too straightlaced to be considered in such a manner and when they say such things it is more for shock value than intent (content) which ultimately softens and cheapens them, their and the show. Could I do any better? Doubt it.

As things on Big Brother begin to calm down, at the end of the day it sends me straight to sleep.