Monday, May 17, 2010


Monday 17 May 2010

Last night’s insomnia means a rough ride into the week.  As the alarm buzzes I punch the air in anger in an impressively not feeble manner.  From here I slovenly go through the first 30 minutes of this week’s GMTV, as moronic as it is.  There is no news.

At the 6.30AM point quickly I manage to pull myself together and jump in my car towards the station and another working week of London.  This ritual is battering me right now.

The train journey is not fun as some bald fat arse sits opposite me and repeatedly bangs his knees against mine.  I squirm in my seat to avoid any further incidents or contact but his limbs just follow me.  Later as he reads his copy of the Daily Mail (makes sense) he allows the pages to droop and tickle my knees.  What is it with this guy and his efforts/attempts to molest me?

After a brief beaching thankfully finally the train pulls in Liverpool Street just before 8AM and I get my escape from the freak show.  Or so I think.

My Monday morning tube ride gets disrupted when at Kings Cross an Asian nutter boards, sits opposites me and proceeds to pray sing out loud from his copy of The Koran right in front of me.  Keep it in your pants mate.  This is disturbing, is he about to blow us all up?  Slowly he gets louder and eventually begins to drown out my iPhone.  At this point I cross my legs kicking his knee in the process (very subtle).  With this he breaks from his dirge and stares at me aggressively before continuing his drawl even louder.  Who is in the wrong here?  Swiftly Baker Street arrives and I leave this little attention seeking cunt to his own devices.  Jackass.

Thankfully from here my journey to work is without arseholes or drama.  Welcome to Monday.

I step into the office and my knackered seat is sitting funny, somebody has been in it over the weekend and I begin to feel suspicious (maybe even paranoid).  Soon the Filipino follows me in with stories of how she found and rescued her daughter’s hamster on Friday night.  Thirty minutes later The Girl turns up.

Omens are bad for today, work wise I am still in limbo.  Somehow I still find myself closing off February on the new company while everything else feels on hold while awaiting the nod from the consultant.

Fortunately the day does not drag and I keep myself occupied as soon 5.30PM comes around and I find myself darting back across town to Liverpool Street and onto the 6.20PM Norwich (good train) home.

Tonight when I arrive home it is with a sense of bewilderment.  Once home there is not much to report for my Monday evening: I watch The Daily Show and write and that is it.

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