Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Tuesday 30 November 2010


Tuesday 30 November 2010

Dream: various mutated versions of events occur.  It is all soon forgotten.

As per routine I awaken ahead of time with my DVD player still running the first Thick Of It menu screen on my TV.  Later when my alarm buzzes at 6AM it feels rude to be disrupted.

Outside the snow has been coming down heavily overnight and almost immediately I find myself filling with dread at the prospect of having to drive to the train station.

Eventually I step out and brave the world, passing the stinking washing and television that I was told would be moved at the weekend.  15 Hollytree Court lied to me.

To my surprise my car is not frosted even though it is bitterly cold out.  As a result I begin to wonder to myself if it will actually start and thankfully it does as I start my trudge towards the station and then London.

I can never gauge conditions when they are like this, all I know is that you have to honour/respect velocity/momentum and allow it to do its thing, breaking at a minimum so as not to upset the apple cart too much.  These conditions also bring out the stupidity in people/drivers as they pull moves that make no sense such as getting in the wrong lane at roundabouts before shamelessly cutting people (me) up and endangering the good drivers (me).  This is where the SUVs rule like gods.

By the time I pull into the station car park I am officially late as vehicles drive their slowest at the only clear part of the journey so far (the covered portion of the car park).  In the end cars park at random fashion at the station meaning obviously my space has been taken.

By the time I am entering the station it is 6.57AM and the chances of catching my 6.59AM train look bleak, not least when I arrive onto the platform to discover that the train no longer exits at all.

In old school fashion I head towards the 7.03AM train where I spot Nine Finger Keeper and Epiphany Girl (a pregnant lady should not be forced out in this climate).

When the train arrives it is a mongrel one.  Boarding it I get shoved out of the way by the Jim Broadbent lookalike.  Next after leaving Colchester within a couple of minutes the train has beached.

From here the train poodles its way to London and when we get to Chelmsford it is surprisingly/pleasantly quiet.  At Shenfield I finally get subjected to a plate crowder, one with snow on it.  As I recall with this train when we get to Stratford there is an exodus of banker types heading to Canary Wharf.  Are these the greedy people that has ruined this country?

Finally we get to Liverpool Street almost half an hour late at which point feeling despondent and peckish I head direct to Starbucks for my fifth Eggnog Latte of this Christmas.  The queue is forgiving as I soon get my drink and head over to St Johns Wood on the tube feeling somewhat happier for having my coffee.

As I head to the tube gates at Liverpool Street I spot Chinese OCD Man frantically straightening copies of the Metro.  In this weather!  Now that is dedication.  It is also a good omen for the day.  Welcome back.

When I eventually get to St Johns Wood the snow is dropping with force.  Happily by this time I have missed the school run and Loudoun Road is quiet for once.

Nearing the restaurant I spot the Filipino stood outside the front door of the building shivering.  Suddenly I feel so bad; nobody has turned up to let her in.  Then I feel worse when I spot how cute her hat is: it has ears!  This is a 41 year old lady pulling off wearing an animal fur hat with ears.  That is a true feat.

Needless to say we are first in which means I have alarm duties.  Soon after we arrive so does everyone else including The Girl who has arrived via public transport.

Feeling fucked off by my journey and life in general one of the first things I do when I step in is send a whinging text message to Stu Constantine about the washing machine and television dumped outside 15 Hollytree Court by the Trash Humpers.

From here I pick up the pieces, wrestling to finish the October accounts for the new(ish) company (the low priority figures).

There is a nice atmosphere in the office as some kind of Christmas blitz spirit begins to take hold.

For lunch I have Rigatoni with chicken, a pasta dish that has fast taken over from penne in my affections.  After dinner the afternoon passes without incident or drama and at 5PM the boss lets us go early.

Tonight despite the weather I decide to head to the cinema to see a Mexican movie called LEAP YEAR (ANO BISIESTO) as it is showing in only one cinema, my favourite cinema the Odeon on Shaftesbury Avenue.

From here I leave work with The Girl as I change lines at Bond Street and head across to Tottenham Court Road on the Central Line.  On a bright note I manage to get there by 5.55PM lending me plenty of time to get some Argos vouchers for mum’s birthday tomorrow.  I’m a good son.

With this job jobbed and still spare time to boot predictably I head over to Fopp where I resist buying myself anything while half hoping that I might find a surprise present for mum.  No dice.

Eventually I head over to the cinema and as I step into the Shaftsbury Avenue Odeon there is some kind of hubbub occurring as a low level premiere is taking place for a movie called The Dinner Party (or something).  There are no stars.

When I buy my ticket for LEAP YEAR (ANO BISIESTO) I find myself getting talking into signing up for one of those Odeon member schemes because “the offer tonight is cheaper than the actual movie ticket”.  There’s me on another database.

Stepping into the cinema tonight there is just me and some seedy looking Spanish guy with a ponytail.  With this suddenly I feel like Travis Bickle in a porno cinema.  Eventually more people filter into the screen including an old guy who sits behind me and proceeds to kick/knock my seat all the way through the movie in addition to the two dudes that sit in front of me that later begin cuddling up halfway through the movie.

LEAP YEAR (ANO BISIESTO) leaves me flabbergasted.  Long after the piece has finished I find myself still thinking about it and considering the situation of the lady at the centre.

It begins in a supermarket where the deflated lady buys her groceries before heading to her empty apartment from where the film never leaves.  The focal figure of LEAP YEAR (ANO BISIESTO) is Laura whose day to day existence is a lonesome and boring routine centred around her existence in her apartment where she works as a freelance writer as she looks out of the window and watches a world she appears unable to break into.

For some reason I find her so real and attractive, thoroughly genuine.  I also feel the male urge to swoop in and make things better (all right) even though in either the real or movie world this would not be possible.  Suddenly it occurs to me that I am empathising and associating with this lady to an extreme degree.  For me her boredom is so tangible and the telephone conversations with her mother resemble ones that I have had.

After a number of cold and empty one night stands without meaning she eventually ends up in an abusive relationship.  From here it becomes very colourful as it builds into a sad series of sexual encounters although everything is permitted and consensual.  Seeing one person urinate on another on a movie screen is truly quite the vision.

In the end it builds to a horrific conclusion where my heart goes out to the lady.  Sadness accrues as a bullet is dodged and a Laura shares a secret with the audience that nobody else will ever know.  Then it ends in silence.

With fear of the snow inside me I waste no time in exiting the cinema although first I do need a piss.  As I exit the bathroom the guy that was kicking the back of my seat through all the movie is just stepping in.  Would it really be so wrong/bad if I smacked him?  It would appear that LEAP YEAR (ANO BISIESTO) may have brought out something aggressive in me.

From here I head up to Tottenham Court Road station and then across town on the Central Line where I eventually board a train at Liverpool Street in weary fashion.

When I finally get back to Colchester and my building there is a note addressed to me on the washing machine.  I don’t want a note from these I just want the washing machine gone.

With this I step inside my flat and wrap mum’s birthday gifts as soon I head to bed and pass out.

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