Had an average kind of day at work last Friday. The start of the week I’d had a lot of sleep, but getting toward the end I’ve built up a bit of a deficit. It was red nose day so I was allowed to wear civilian clothes for a change and buy foul stale buns from a man in a dress. Thanks to ‘The Office’ largely, there weren’t any ludicrous attempts to be funny on anybody’s part.
At 1 I went to the agency for the free temps’ lunch. The usual collection of people were there, chatting with each-other. I had a bagel, picked up my payslip and left. The afternoon was much the same. I did have one call from an uppity millionaire who refused to accept our charges and threatened to close his account. I called his bluff and closed it. Twat.
At home, as per usual for a Friday night, everyone else was having a pre-club party in the living room, preventing me from relaxing with a couple of beers, The Simpsons and Nathan Barley. This time there were two strange dogs there too. Don’t like dogs. Sorry, know it isn’t cool or anything, used to have a phobia, but now just have a general uneasiness.
Had a bath and took a couple of sleeping pills in anticipation of everyone getting back. I hate working Saturday mornings.
Saturday was as bad as usual. The sleeping pills meant I had a general drowsiness instead of feeling shattered, which is a little more manageable. After work I went on an almost snap decision to go to Southampton for a party at Kat’s house. As usual the train took over three hours. Outside I felt a chill in the air, people shouting and punching things, back in the old place. Before the party I met up with people in a new place called “Wine Bar” which was a bit too funky house but it was good to see Kat, Lu and so on. Then we went off to Kat’s place to start off the party, which was alright. Bumped into all manner of people from my long forgotten university course & had a chat with them. Hoovered some gak (sorry). Passed out at 3 or so. I’ve a vague suspicion that I’m past it as far as these kind of parties are concerned. Well, we all have to be at some stage, don’t we?
Woke up on Sunday to find the party continuing. There was a Frenchman, a murderer (for “queen and country” apparently) and a stoned guy in the living room. And Kat & Lou and Kaz & some more people. There was conversation going on of this sort;
“This tobacco feels really surreal….”
“Surreal?”
“Yeah, feel it.”
“Well, if by surreal you mean dry…?”
“It’s just putting your hand in there it’s not what you expect…”
“What, that it’s dry?”
So I went home on the train again. This time it stopped entirely and we had to take a replacement bus.
Monday and Tuesday I felt like shit at work. Too much beer & stuff, nowhere near enough sleep and suspect I’m coming down with some sort of illness. Two days off now, though, and tomorrow we get internet in the house, so my website can finally go up.