Thursday, January 14, 2010


Thursday 14 January 2010

Dream: it is commuter related seeing me in conversation with the Nine Finger Keeper in a more positive manner than I would dare imagine.

These days were sent to test me.

Once moving all things point towards being an OK morning as things now resume back to normality as if Christmas never happened.  There is a strong desire to maintain my new found energy for the year but as things return to routine I fear there is not much chance of that energy remaining.

Today the train plays a little trick on us as it stops short at the platform meaning that a large set of us far end (of the platform) dwellers have to go running back towards the train scrabbling for seats on the carriages.  This is a shorter train than usual.

To start the New Year I now have a new favourite podcast: The Bugle.  It is put out by The Times and is a weekly satire show hosted by Andy Zaltzman and John Oliver.  The fucking thing is just about to reach its 100th episode, why have I never ever heard of it before?  I only discovered it by accident by doing a podcast search for Zaltzman after his Alternative Ashes show last summer was genuinely entertaining stuff.  This podcast however is on another level and is the first such show to actually make me laugh out loud on the train in a very long time.  The two of them go so well together, with Oliver (the Brit from The Daily Show) phoning in his bit from New York this is truly enlightening stuff.  I’m already fucking smarter for having listened to a couple of episodes of it.

My journey finds itself somewhat disrupted when at Witham a larger blonde lady decides to sit in the seats opposite.  She is the most attractive person I have seen on the train for a long time and while I muse over this fact it is with pleasant shock and fear that when we near London she looks over and fires me a smile.  Was this intended or just some strange instinctive reaction?  Invariably like a rabbit caught in the headlights my own reaction is only to blush.  How old am I?  What is the deal with a 33 year old man being made to blush at the mere hint of attraction?  Me got issues, me got worry.

Regardless because of this I begin the day with a swing, with the kind of lift I have not necessarily felt in a long time.  I guess this is the feeling of my heart fluttering.  Loser.

The working day turns out to be a tough one as the consultant comes in just after 9AM, actually beating a number of our full time members into the office.  I will mention no names.  From here he proceeds to ask questions that feel irrelevant and inconsequential.  Accountants truly are the most indecisive of people.

All in all it ultimately equates to a frustrating day where often I don’t know if I am coming or going.  Communication between this guy and myself is really bad.  Sometimes it is obvious that we are pulling in different directions and still the preparation of our monthly figures involve too much rushing and last minute requirements during the first two weeks of a working month when often we will find ourselves twiddling our fingers in the second half of the month.

With little else to report from the working day soon 5.30PM comes around and we head off in our different directions.  As I change lines at Baker Street I spot Parrot Face from Baker Street which as ever serves as a bad omen.

The omen is later realised when once on the 6.20PM Norwich train home it dies ten minutes into the journey as it stops at Wanstead.  It is another ten minutes before Information Jimmy bothers to make an announcement at which point he informs us that “there is a fault with the train and that a fitter is coming to look at it.”  Quite frankly with this information we are blinded by science.

Against expectations ultimately this in the end only adds 20 minutes to our journey home, although it is 20 minutes that we will never see again.  Slowly by stealing such minutes from my life National Express are minutely murdering me by using some kind of drip method.

When I eventually get back to Colchester once more I pop around the olds’ where I find myself again submerged in soap opera hell with Eastenders and the reading of Archie’s will that subsequently climaxes on a real cliff-hanger.

Not long after this I endeavour to get ready and packed for Manchester this weekend but in the end I more likely full asleep watching Celebrity Big Brother.  If I am being honest, I do not remember.

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