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.
Sleep.
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