Thursday, October 08, 2009

Thursday 8 October 2009

Today is the coolest morning this half of the year. As I leave Bohemian Grove the old guy (The Ghost) is once more stood in our car park but at least now he is actually moving and not appearing as if lying in wait for somebody or something.

I am back on the 7.03AM this morning. As I walk from the car to the platform I drop my iPhone on the floor yet again. Lucky the screen is already cracked.

I fail to get my seat as some frumpy cunt sits in the one opposite making it gauche and almost impossible to take my usual perch without shoving personal space issues.

For some reason the train smells like a gym changing room today. That is the kind of odour that will never escape you. I look around and nobody appears responsible, it just is.

Eventually the train pulls into Liverpool Street at 8.04AM with my listening to Mud Songs by Mudhoney which rains like a beacon of sanity to me at these times.

Once in work I am still still plugging away at the new month’s accounts to a degree of great success. As of yet so far I have not been pestered or pressured for any figures so as a result it is all taking a much more organic and natural course which ultimately will produce a better set of figures.

Early into proceedings my boss comes in and asks if I have heard from The Girl. It turns out that during the night her car has been towed from outside her own flat. This strange but oddly unsurprising.

In the afternoon I decide to see if my Holland Park friend is available to meet up this evening. Eventually she gets back to me and initially doesn’t recognise my phone number but once the confusion is out of the way we arrange to meet up at 6.15PM.

Coinciding with the date helpfully our boss handily lets us out early this evening and as a result I manage to hit Holland Park in perfect time. I end up having a good old time catching up and telling her about my recent adventures especially on Sunday. Partway through proceedings we hear a noise outside and suddenly we become suspicious and she sends her “driver” out to investigate. I didn’t know he was around. Freaky.

Afterwards I check my phone to discover a couple of missed calls and voicemails from dad. I have to admit I love hearing dad’s voicemails; the whole oldster dealing with technology thing is totally sweet and pure.

I head home in an amazing mood and fine frame of mind all in a hurry to catch the Sir Clive Sinclair/ZX Spectrum docudrama on BBC4 tonight.

Like perfection I get home with a few minutes to spare. In the end the thing is only so so and I have to concede I did fall asleep briefly towards the end but with all the old footage of ZX Spectrums and bustling computer sections in eighties WH Smith stores the nostalgia serves to be exhilarating.

Not long afterwards I resume sleeping.

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