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Thursday, January 23, 2003

EVENING

Home at last - it's been a long day. Usual wait at Glamoursmith and the Gods were not with me today. Two Ealing Broadway trains before one came to Richmond. Sat in a daze really until the formerly pink haired
busker got on with his dirge like rendition of REM's Losing My Religion. (the busker had pink hair a couple of years ago and it was a sort of flourescent pink that made him look a bit like one of those troll dolls that you stick on the end of pencils) Losing my Religion is his favourite number and today was performed particularly badly. He howled his was through the final chorus and then did a tune free cat wailing sounding bit of guitar strumming to finish. You feel like saying don't give up the day job at the end. But that probably is his day job.


MORNING

Had to buy a ticket due to last night's escapades - see below. Travelled in reading a report for the first of two meetings today (great day for two almost back to back meeting), swigging copious amounts of fizzy mineral water and nursing a large hangover and the beginnings of a heavy cold. Too hungover to remember much about that journey.

EVENING - 22nd January

OHMIGOD - Went out for drinks after work and got totally trashed along with several other people from the office. To cut a long story short, my friends had to escort a drunken colleague out of the bar we were in, as they had thrown up in said bar. I was in the toilet at the time and when I returned, they had all disappeared along with my coat. In my coat was my travelcard and my house keys - wonderful (it turns out that had just packed my coat up with a pile of others and bundled my pukey friend off too).

So I did the journey back on the tube in complete auto pilot. I had to buy a ticket as well for which I stupidly in my drunken honesty asked for the correct ticket. If I had been more sober I would have just asked for a ticket to get me through one zone, knowing full well that Kew Gardens Station is always unmanned with the gates open from about 10.30 onwards. Shows how drunk I was.

Got on at Piccadilly Circus, fell asleep in drunk manner, auto piloted myself awake at Turnham Green and amazingly (the Gods were with me last night) a Richmond train turned up within seconds. Auto piloted myself awake just as the train pulled in to Kew Gardens. I think my body must just naturally be able to recognise the distance, which is amazing cos the District Line is normally so rubbish and usually stops between stops. But perhaps my body even compensates for the rubbishness somehow.


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