Thursday, September 16, 2010


Thursday 16 September 2010

I wake up before the alarm clock this morning.  Its strangely comfortable.

Fortunately it is not as cold as yesterday this morning, which is a genuine relief and one less worry on my mind.  I’m not ready for winter yet.

Happily as I exit the building the neighbours haven’t dumped any rubbish outside on the landing so it suggests a good start to proceedings.  That said the communal area still stinks though.  God only knows what their place (Stu’s place?) smells like inside.

Once arrived at the station I take my stance on the platform as I await the 6.59AM train, spotting a Kym Marsh lookalike and Epiphany Girl in the process.

Finally aboard the train when we eventually get to Witham Stare Girl boards and sits on the opposite side of our row.  Then despite the abundance of spare seats currently in the carriage some Asian cunt decides to squeeze into the seat between me and the guy that stole “my seat” in the first place.  This piece of shit then proceeds to make himself very comfortable, crossing his arms and spreading out as he endeavours to catch some sleep.  As Stare Girl stares at this front I exchange a smile of acknowledgement with her of this train faux pas which promptly causes me to blush.

Eventually the gangly prick is away with the fairies as at Ingatestone an attractive Before And After Girl endeavours to squeeze into the seat opposite him.

Today I listen to the latest Football Ramble which fortunately keeps me happy and sane for the journey.

Soon we reach London and I am on the tube platform standing beside Bellalike awaiting our ride across town.

When our tube finally arrives as I take my seat it suddenly appears that Asians hate me today as the entire duration of this journey is spent with an Oriental dude staring and scowling at me.  Does he want my broken iPhone?

Eventually the tube pulls into Baker Street and I change onto the Jubilee Line where a pretty Asian girl makes pained efforts to blank me.  Its not as if I was making pained efforts to acknowledge her.

As I exit St Johns Wood station while heading up the escalator it suddenly occurs to me just how much the Ricky Gervais live poster rips off similar Bill Hicks imagery with its silhouette.  They’re not on the same plane from a standup perspective.

When I arrive at the restaurant it is dead and I am first in.  While I snag a glass of orange juice the operations manager catches me in the act.  Briefly we discuss business as he comments how revenue are down and “we could do with a bit more sales”.

The Girl is not in today which means peace and quiet, especially with our boss heading off to Eastbourne to visit his mum mid morning.  Off the back of such elements I feel afforded the opportunity to take the morning easy and coast.

At various points I find myself in conversation with the Filipino regarding world events.  With everyone buzzing positively and negatively, polarised about the visit of the Pope we find ourselves discussing religion in some depth.  The Filipino is infinitely smarter than she is given credit for or her job role might suggest.

The morning flies by at which point we stop for lunch and I grab a penne with chicken.

Into the afternoon things remain quiet until I get a phonecall from the angry boss fresh from a bank meeting.  He is now stressing about the August figures (mainly the purchase ledger) for the new(ish) company.

Suddenly a panic engulfs proceedings and I really do not think I can deliver what is required here and now.  He says he will be in fifteen minutes to have a chat about where we are on the accounts.  At this point I begin to regret my easy attitude to the morning.

Still being stuck in July on the accounts I don’t really feel I can suddenly change direction and jump into the August figures so I just step up my pace and continue my scheduled chores until I reach a good point to switch.

In the end nothing major occurs.  Briefly the angry boss returns and steps in for a word, acknowledging that the consultant is currently in Alaska.  I genuinely cannot tell if he is taking the piss or not.

When 5.30PM arrives nobody senior is around so I bounce out of work absent/devoid of guilt.  From here I head down to Bond Street and across to Tottenham Court Road in order to get to Foyles for the WILL SELF event.

Against the flow of the day I get there early and with this I head to the café for a much needed cold drink.  I thought this café was supposed to be cool.  Eventually I head back upstairs and take my seat in the Gallery for WILL SELF.

Tonight WILL SELF is reading extracts from Walking To Hollywood, the book about his addiction: walking.  He introduces it with a description of his OCD tendencies and how his apparent addiction governs his actions.

As the title of the book would suggest the book covers his walk around Los Angeles which leads onto an explanation of how he travels light and as a result now harbours great disdain for people with their modern sets of luggage that appear equipped to carry the entirety of a person’s belongings.  This is most definitely a frustration I concur with, not least every time I trip over small bags on wheels in public places.

The first extract being read takes place in San Francisco as he protracts his walking method onto American proceedings.  He compares and reveals rituals, picking apart the locals and customs along with the sights around him.  Not much of it appears to impress him.  Wilfully he describes the process of arriving at this stage with the apparent number of local faux pas he performs upon arrival.  Then it would suddenly appear he may or may not be describing (retelling) a suicide attempt.  He later confides that this was one of two attempts at taking his life.  Not that he appears suicidal.

When the reading comes to an end we (the audience) appear only to realise the extract is finished when SELF says “thank you” before we have responded.  Perhaps we are sat in shock in what has just been spilled.

From here SELF offers more insight to his travels.  The second extract is pure Gonzo journalism as in some altered state of mind and delirium SELF manages to get into some kind of scrap while attempting to purchase a soft drink with a large bill (dollar note).  Invariably it all goes horribly wrong as he turns out to be our anti hero representative rallying against the most petty and miniscule of conventions, systems and controls.  Ultimate its not really a fight worth having but in its pursuit it makes for entertaining copy.

During the reading there is the heavy sound of rustling coming from the left side of the room.  We all hear it (including the author) and at the end of his passage SELF gives the offending girl a leer and look that could kill.  And rightfully so.

Finally the talk arrives at the Q&A portion where he describes writing about himself as being like wanking.  Also once more returns to his beef/problem with luggage as he comments how one of the benefits of capitalism these days is that you don’t really have to travel stocked up with luggage as you can cheaply just buy new essential items such as underwear and t-shirts for a pittance all over the globe.  At this point the rustling girl cuts in and says “you always have clean underwear then” to which he snaps and scolds “yes, believe it or not you can wash them and use them again my little interjector”.

With this he ends the talk and as he exits with his microphone still attached he can be heard groaning and grumbling as briefly it looks like a low level Gillian Duffy moment may occur.

From here I head home and actually manage to find myself on the 8PM train home.  This is almost a luxury too good for words.  Subsequently I arrive home just after 9PM.  Once back I do a bit of writing before eventually retiring to bed.

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