Thursday 11 February 2010

There is another dusting of snow on top of proceedings as once more I step out into a bitterly cold morning.  While I stand on the platform at the station my hands begin to freeze and I am unable to flick through my copy of The Metro, which I guess is no big thing because it is only two minutes of my day ordinarily.  When the train finally arrives it is another one of those reject trains with yellow streaks on it.

As I check my email there is another from eHarmony, this time now taunting me about the fact that it is Valentines Day on Sunday.  Motherfuckers, they hate me and they hate you.

I am noticing the same faces are on my train every morning now.  Again I find I am sat opposite the fat Alastair Campbell lookalike and for a third time this week when the train stops at Chelmsford the ageing blonde boards once again looking pretty but with also the impression of being a real headache of a person.

Getting into London is no big thing today and soon I find myself pulling into work.  Outside it is brisk and as the angry boss mentions this I also pass comments that moves him to gifting me a cup of coffee, my regular prize for being first person in.

Thankfully The Girl is back in today and dare I admit it but I am really happy to see her.  She does look rough though but I think this may have more to do with lack of makeup as opposed to genuine sickness.  She also expounds how relieved she is to be back and once more we are a happy family again.

This morning the consultant trots in around 11.30AM at which point I haven’t really pulled my finger out of my arse as of yet.  There is always a bad cloud attached to his attendance, following him around like a bad cloud.  Once more today he is harping on about the control accounts, a subject to which I have little interest in.  Sorry.

Soon lunch occurs and with it I have penne with merguez, the lunch of champions.

In the afternoon the day takes an explicit turn for the worse as a virus takes hold of my computer in the form of security software alerting me to dangers and persuasively suggesting that I purchase its protection.  It is kind of coincidental that this is occurring just as my bosses are dicking the IT guy about.  I’m not saying that he has set up this threat but were I him it wouldn’t take a lot to just lower security settings (the firewall etc) and subtly create a situation whereby suddenly such expertise is necessary.

Away from such conspiracy theories the timing is a major nuisance, frustrating as it comes just as the consultant begins piling on the pressure before the Filipino begins asking me questions about payments that I do not know the answer to.  I am however a good guy and do not flap, snap or panic and help her look into the controls but the more we interrogate the figures the more holes we find.  This is what always happens.

Work is bad today.  The more we look at the controls, the more holes we are finding.

When 5.30PM arrives it is with the bosses in a pow wow while the consultant sits in our office doing something.  When I speak to him while heading out of the door it becomes apparent that we have both been doing the same exercise this afternoon.  Fail.  The difference is that he will probably charge £500 for his efforts.

Tonight three nights out in a row catch up with me.  On the tube across town I doze through the journey and as I arrive at Liverpool Street it is slightly late meaning I end up on the 6.30PM train this evening.

Once back in Colchester I head to Asda where it is Thursday night and busy.  I used to avoid hitting the shop on Thursday nights because I would occasionally bump into my cousin Martin.  Now he is one of the few members of my family I am a friend with on Facebook.  Go figure.

As soon as I finally get back home I endeavour to write but it turns to be to diminishing returns.  Thankfully John Oliver has a bit on The Daily Show tonight, which keeps morale relatively high.

In the end I head to bed with Mock The Week on BBC2 as I recall the shared information from Robin Ince about the show from earlier in the week.  Then Rab C Nesbitt follows and this new series is just atrocious, ultimately begging the question: “why?”

It doesn’t take me long to fall asleep this evening.