The alarm clock went off at 5:30am. It’s a good job it did, because my body clock failed spectacularly. Normally it would wake me up a couple of minutes before the alarm, but I have a very vague memory of a really good dream just before the alarm rudely interrupted. After sliding out of bed, stumbling off towards the shower, and pulling on clean clothes, I wandered out into the cold morning air a little after 6am to catch the early train out of town.
It’s funny. I have a distinct memory of seeing something on the journey into London, and thinking “I need to write about that later”, but I’ll be damned if I can remember anything about it now. In truth, the entire journey kind of went like clockwork – into Paddington station, across the Circle Line to Victoria, and then off across the south of England towards the site (and no, I’m not going to name the destination, because it will make this blog traceable).
I think half the reason my memory of the day is so poor is because the latest cold virus to do the rounds has overtaken my body on the way home. I went in a chemist’s shop at Victoria station on the way home and bought medicine. I also ate half a packet of lozenges, downed a fruit juice, and munched my way through a family bag of chocolate buttons while waiting for my train out of Paddington. I guess you could call it “hacking my body” – giving it pure energy by way of milk chocolate and fruit juice.
I’m now sitting at home on my own (my other half has gone out for dinner with a friend) while the kids sleep upstairs. The best of Mr Mister is pumping out of the Fire TV, and I’m sipping tea in-between writing this. When my other half arrives home I may well head straight to bed. I can’t afford to be sick.
On the way home on the train somebody annoyed me immensely. I was sitting on the right hand side of a three seat block, with another three seat block facing me. Another man got on the waiting train, and sat alongside me, leaving a space between us. Finally another man got on, and sat opposite us, inbetween us. While myself and the gentleman alongsideÂ sat upright, “properly”, the man opposite immediately slouched, stretched inbetween us, hitting both of our legs with his, and proceeded to play with his phone while resting it on his chest. I hadn’t actually looked up at him yet (I was reading a book), but eventually did – expecting to find somebody in their mid 20s. Uh… nope. He was about 50, balding, and with a pot belly. He shifted after a while, and thought about putting his feet on the chair inbetween myself and the passenger alongside us. We both looked at his feet, he then looked at us, and put his feet back down immediately.
What is it with people? Whatever happened to civic pride, and civic responsibility? What makes people thing it’s ok to put their feet on train seats?Maybe it starts at a young age. Our youngest invited a friend round to play last weekend, and after hearing crashing and banging around in the bedroom, I wandered up to see what was going on. I walked into the bedroom to find a little boy throwing Â things around the bedroom. He didn’t see me walk in, because he had his back to me, but got the hint from my daughter and her other friend, who fell silent and looked at me. He turned round, latest projectile still in his hand, and looked up at me.”When our daughter visits your house, does she jump around the rooms, throw things, and smash the place up?””No.””So what makes you think you can do that in other people’s houses?”He just stared at me. I didn’t give him the opportunity to answer – I turned around and walked away. Mysteriously, he made his excuses and went home a few minutes later.
Anyway – I need another cup of tea.