The home of the haikulator

 

Links

My Stand-up & gigs
The Coding Craftsman
BurberryAndBroccoli
MarkInventions

The Musical!
Incredible Productions

apostrophell
backlash
incredible
haiku


Previous Posts

Saturday's Challenge
Sunday
Friday Fun
Joining Technorati
Illiterate Bastards
An Experiment
Thursday already
The Young Ones
Injury Time
Damn This Airshow

Blog Archives

January 1970
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
August 2009
September 2009
January 2010
March 2010
April 2010
May 2010
June 2010
July 2010
August 2010
September 2010
October 2010
November 2010
December 2010
January 2011
February 2011
March 2011
April 2011
May 2011
June 2011
July 2011
August 2011
October 2011
December 2011
February 2012
March 2012
April 2012
May 2012
June 2012
July 2012
March 2013
April 2013
May 2013
June 2013
July 2013
August 2013
September 2013
October 2013
December 2013
January 2014
February 2014
March 2014
May 2014
July 2014
January 2015
February 2015
March 2015
April 2015
May 2015
June 2015
July 2015
August 2015
January 2016
February 2016
March 2016
April 2016
May 2016
July 2016
August 2017

Global Domination

Locations of visitors to this page

Tuesday, July 25

Hot Train

There is an email address to which I could email from my phone and the text would automatically land on this blog. Not just from my phone either. I could do it from anywhere, though from most places it would be easier to use the regular web page through which I normally edit this stuff.

Anyway, I have forgotten the special email address, so this particular entry, being written on a hot train on the mobile, will be emailed to myself and then transferred. To save a bit of time in future, as I've been sending a lot of things from my phone of late, I added my email address under 'me' in my contacts book. Strangely, the telephone number I'd stored under that alias was one I didn't recognise. Weird.

Why am I on a hot train at just after 6 on a Tuesday evening after a day's accountancy basic training? One answer is that the First Great Western rail company cannot provide either a reliable service or effective air conditioning in their London route. Another answer is that I decided to take the smaller, stopping train to London as the direct train, though larger, was running late, and I have a theory that a late train only gets later.

The real reason that I'm even attempting to get to our nation's capital in the middle of a got July is friendship. Friendship is many things, and one of them is meeting up, catching up, and enjoying fine food and drink. This shall be done.

Boy is it hot in here, though. Yes. Yes it is. The rhetorical question is pointless in this context.

The week started amiably enough, but as yesterday drew on, I got a sense that, much like the rather short shorts on the tattooed legs of the quiz master at last night's pub quiz at which my girlfriend and I assisted her father and his friends into a narrow third place, something wasn't quite right.

To translate this metaphor, and indeed the meaning lost behind that last composite sentence, the bare legs which reviled me at work were in fact a combination of seemingly intertwined and frustratingly near but far solutions.

There's something in my personality which reacts to a challenge. If you give me a difficult puzzle, like getting to dundee for an evening, or playing comedy to a tent sparsely under filled with children, I'll rise to it and defeat the impossible with simple tricks. If, however, you give me something which looks easy, and hides complexity, which shouldn't be there, I have a bit of a mental block. If several problems converge at the same time, if there's a time pressure, and if I have a sense of righteous indignation that the problems shouldn't even need to exist. . . Well, I am afraid that I see red.

And so it came to pass that from 3pm until I left work at 7pm last night, everything that could get in my way did. I started several things only to abort them rather than have them snowball and lead me into shaving a yak. I was not a happy bunny when I drove home.

Today was easier, though I must confess to a few losses of patience. Most notably, during a brief design review over lunch, I turned on my more idealistic and patronising voice and plodded on with displeasure. During the rest of the day I expressed any boredom by making a measured number of wisecracks. I managed to stay calm and not needful of the laugh while doing so, which allowed me to get away with more. The time passed more quickly for me at least, and my suggestion that the receptionists were in fact part of an art installation called 'the three disinterested women' was a hell of a lot kinder than what was actually running through my head at the time.

Since the training session had started at 9.30, I had had to be awake earlier than I prefer, which I suppose I had better get used to, since I will need to do the same next week to have a chance of getting work commitments and performing commitments to balance. Despite it not being totally unreasonable to be in the office for 9, I was a bit woozy and like the proverbial sore headed bear.

I think I got enough sleep. Some of it was at 9 minute intervals as I accurately and instinctively balanced my sleep pattern with the last possible minute I could get up and still be on time. I wish I could just wake up, and trust myself to respond to an alarm at exactly the right time. No luck.

As well at the pub quiz, last night saw us watching a dvd. It was a Mel Gibson movie. I sort of forgot that he did the comic but violent action movie thing. In this film, Payback, he is a tough guy taking revenge on the guy who left him for dead and his mob associates. It's fairly unbelievable, but I found it watchable.

So. Despite having sat hear tapping away enough to fill 10k of text, that's one 36th of an old floppy disk, I'm still stuck on this hot train. My legs feel clammy. Perhaps I should have put on some light weight crop trousers, rather than these jeans. I decided to go with the jeans to avoid being too under dressed. The temperature of my body is rising as a result. At least I don't smell though. At least, I think I don't smell. I might. Sometimes people do. Some folks just got on the train, and they smell mighty bad. Pooey!

I will probably never find out whether this plan to beat the late train worked. As a non stopping train, this ought to be slower, but it's less crowded, and it doesn't appear to have been delayed at all. I shall assume that I made the right decision. I like to think I'm right. Don't we all.

One thing I have failed to get right is the run up to next week's show in Camden. There simply hasn't been the time to sort much out. . . I have done some stuff, but it may be too little too late. We'll see. The others should also have done some work, as should the venue. Of course if everyone thought that way. . .

Life is slowly running itself off the rails. The mortgage needs a kick start too. Note to self. Get life back on rails while it's still teetering rather than totally derailed.

Definitely possible.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home

All content ©2001 - 2012 Ashley Frieze