Thursday, November 16, 2006

AM: one more day, one more delay. Again this morning I have to change platforms in order to board my late train AGAIN. Arriving in town just 20 minutes late ensures that I get to ride the tube this morning in cattle truck conditions. And now I seem to have a friend, in the form of some old guy who gets on at Witham and now begins to nod an acknowledgment to me daily. Is he a former client of mine from a former life?

My tube journey is crushed, uncomfortable and thwart with people that smell of soup.

I arrive at work peckish and with the knowledge that there is a huge back of Thai chilli Sensations crisps sat underneath my desk at work, provided the cleaners haven’t stolen/scoffed them. I arrive at work and the crisps are there: breakfast is served!

Beyond that, the morning sails by before we head for a Thai lunch which I can’t really afford. Today is month/year end, so naturally I sit through lunch staring out of the window somewhat distracted. As usual I have chicken pad thai but I think the Market Thai on the corner of Portobello have changed chef as it is not up to its usual highest standard.

PM: after a morning of regularly mind blanks (early signs of Alzheimer’s?) I find myself under the cosh in the afternoon. Unfortunately however I also need to do a bank run up to Notting Hill so around 3PM I rev up the company Ka with spongy/no brakes (after a prolonged hunt for the keys). I drag poor old Layla along for the hell ride of me driving in London and of course I get lost on the shortest distance between work and the bank (Natwest). Once more I see the guy in there that chatted me (up?) last week, the pox faced camp boy. I nod to him as we leave after the slowest bank teller counts us out petty cash (petty cash including 4 x £50 notes – rookie/newbie error there, bless her).

So with two and a half hours remaining to get my accounts into ship-shape I find myself stepping up a gear to get my jobs finished off in time and by the end of the day I actually find accountancy is making my adrenaline pump and I am getting a buzz out of my work – this may well be only the second time in my career I have figures so gratifying. By home time I am finished on the draft with half an hour to spare and breathing space for my day off tomorrow and a clear conscience to ask for Tuesday off to go to the Tenacious D movie screening. I am able to offer/lend useful and sensible pointers/feedback and suddenly I am acting like the accountant I have always had the potential to be. Having now made the statement, chances are that I will return to work Monday with my work torn to shreds with fuck ups on my part. Hopefully not though – ahem!

With my working week now at an end, I grab both London Lite and The London Paper with view to having a nice relaxed train ride home. I hope aboard a busy tube at Notting Hill with the woman I swear is Cockney Vic that used to be/appear on the Big Breakfast – she is attractive and she knows it. Around Bond Street a seating opportunity arises and I offer it to the pretty Eastern European girl and she says “no” and tells me to take. Larry David style I just shrug “fuck it” and sit down, I suspect to the chagrin of other passengers. I then sit blushing as I watch her stand most of the way until she gets off at Bank.

As I arrive at Liverpool Street, I manage to get “my seat” on the 6.48 train home but then some dickhead decides to sit between me and some skank, the dickhead almost sitting on my arm in the process – he don’t fucking care. For a fair portion of the trip he turns out to be a nudger and cocky with it as he attempts smug conversation with the skank. From out of the corner of my eye however, I notice he hasn’t actually got any hair. His whole persona comes clear when gets off at Chelmsford and I notice what he is “reading”: The Game by Neil Strauss. And he is probably taking it really seriously, for it is probably this “manual” that caused him to sit next to the skank and speak to her. I attempted to read the book last Christmas (ha ha – admittance of being a dickhead myself) but I couldn’t get far in it, I was recognising too many names from websites and self-help CDs I have downloaded off the internet. Still, when the guy almost leaves it on the train when he gets off, I do find myself semi poncing on it, for spare copy purposes only, of course. The last second however he remembers it and makes a lurch for next to me, half scaring/scarring me in the process.

Back in the safe hands of Colchester, I head over to Sainsburys in Stanway for provisions for tomorrow’s day at home tomorrow. My health kick has now been squarely hoofed out of the window as I buy up two boxes of choc nut cereal that I know I will devour in a day each (oink oink).

Home and in the “warmth” of Bohemian Grove I almost immediately begin to nod of as soon as I get in. I find myself uninterested in setting the DVD recorder to tape anything and beyond another funny episode of the Larry David raping Lead Balloon, shortly after 10PM I am well asleep, where I am safest.

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