It was raining a bit last night, so a night on the tiles could have proved hazardous. Luckily it's just a metaphor. I was out last night with a friend. As is customary, we drank some, ate some, and giggled much about stuff which only we find funny. We occasionally swore in order to prove we were comfortable swearing, and we were.
The technique we employed at the restaurant was great. We said to the waiter that we wanted to eat. He came back with food of his own choosing and we ate it. Simple. No messing about with choices. Just have whatever the waiter thinks is good. I'm paying for it now, mind. Since the end of the meal my stomach felt full and bloated, and the spicy nature of the food will undoubtedly work its way through my system in a most pungent and rear end painful fashion. Still that's the price you pay for these things.
Another cost of taking an evening out in London is the transport system and how it can steal your time. They say procrastination is the thief of time, but I think the rail and road network are being unfairly missed out of that aphorism. I think that the chronicles of the century should read that man invented various machines to make it possible to travel cheaply and efficiently from one town to another, often crossing huge distances in minutes, but through a series of short sighted mis managements and selfish stupidities, these machines were hampered and slowed to the speed of a bicycle.
Having been delayed on the road in my return to Reading, I was then subject to a rail delay to London and then a tube delay involving a change in station, and then a whopping 30 minute delay at Paddington before getting back. This latter delay was a sort of blessing as earlier delays would have made me miss the train I eventually got, though it left far too late really.
The upshot of the evening's travelling was that I was eventually ready to be picked up from the station back in Reading at far too near to 2 in the morning. Despite waking a 830 this morning, I still managed to lose some time to snoozing and get into work late. I don't feel particularly ill, which is something, though my system is still in spice shock.
Had I felt ill, I might have used the text technique I was advised of yesterday evening. This is a low impacte way of calling in sick, but has been trumped by what I heard in the coffee shop this morning. The guy who used to serve me coffee, and whom I quite liked out of all the coffee shop staff, texted in his resignation. He hadn't turned up for work for a couple of days and then last night texted his boss to say he'd got another job. Not a very professional or responsible thing to do, but pretty funny. I'll miss him.