The Hunt

Y'know, some days, some things are just not meant to be...

Of course, the good thing about being an atheist is that you probably don't believe in things not being 'meant to be', so you persevere with the stubbornness of a whack upside the head, and end up getting what you want eventually.

This was, as I've been whinging about for a week now, the first uber-commute day. As I write this, I've been up for twelve hours, and I'm feeling fine. We'll have to see how I feel by the time I get home in about another six and a half, I guess...

The cabbie turned up promptly at 05.15 this morning, and we had a good laugh all the way down to Cardiff. I learned one lesson from this morning - do not eat hot buttered toast at 5 in the morning if you have a longish commute ahead of you - by Cardiff, we were at the dearly beloved 'meaningful fart' stage, and I stole use of the bathrooms on platform 2 of Cardiff Central train station to change wodges before meaningful became disastrous. Still, after that, my system was relatively well behaved all the way to London.

Did I mention there are no Starbucks in Merthyr?
We passed one on the final approach to Victoria Coach Station this morning, and the world of sugar-free, low-fat, decaffeinated pointlessness shimmered before my eyes. I determined to find my way back to the Starbucks we'd passed.

Then a nasty little conscientious voice whispered in my ear:
"If you do that, you'll be late..."

As it happens, I was already later than I'd hoped, due in large part to the Hammersmith Flyover being, as I think they say in technical circles, 'well and truly fucked.' So I forsook the dream of frothy pointlessness and walked on determinedly, actually finding my way to Knightsbridge without any hint of hassle. From a previous lost-getting adventure, I knew there was another Starbucks somewhere around Harrods, but the whisper came back and kicked me in the earhole:
"Late...late and lost, in all probability...on the first day..."
I stiffened my resolve (which I'm reliably informed is not the euphemism it sounds like) and walked on to the office.

Lunchtime came...shortly after my arrival, really speaking. It was probably taking the piss a little to leave the office, but I couldn't resist it - I walked down the Exhibition Road to where I knew there was a Starbucks by South Kensington station. I walked in, gave my order, was just about to hand over my money for my bucket of pointlessness, when there was a bang. And a kerfuffle.
Their milk frother had apparently given up the ghost and died. The guy behind the counter said the closest Starbucks that wasn't the one in which we were standing was at Sloane Square. Fuck that - unfamiliar territory. So I walked back up the Exhibition Road and down Kensington High Street, to another stalwart of my London years. And finally, there, I got myself the frothy wonder, the vision of which had sustained me all morning.

Meh.

It was OK, and I drank it down greedily enough, but somehow I couldn't shake the feeling it wasn't quite as good as the stuff we can now brew up in our own kitchen in our little jewel-box by the Taff...

Tomorrow of course is Tuesday - weigh-in day. It's also 'sign on with a new doctor and try and persuade them to save us money on our gym memberships' day. Wednesday, I'm told, is pay day, which means it's also 'join the gym by hook or by crook' day. Still haven't found the power cord to the exercise bike...it's sitting there, sulking at me again, piled with office detritus. You can almost hear the violin in its vicinity.

'Nobody knows the trouble I've seen...." it seems to croon, endlessly to itself, bereft of sweaty ass to ride it, and aching legs to push it on in its never-ending journey to nowhere. Hopefully though, payday also will mean that Saturday is 'haul a bunch of bookcases into the office' day, which should see the infrastructure of that room completed and the last of its boxes removed. If the cord doesn't then make itself known to us, it might be time to take drastic measures and Send Off For A New One...

Oh, little tweak of the nipples of joy last night - managed to touch my toes, for the first time....I think, ever. Not, of course, from a standing position - I simply don't think my body is evolved to do such a thing, or rather, it is evolved to let me touch my toes....by the provision of knees. But sitting in the bath, I discovered that I was touching my toes with just a little knee-bend. I straightened up and managed to still do it. True, I think I felt something snap in my shoulder as a result, but hey - progress is pain, people...

Which reminds me - nearly time to get the hell out of here and start the return commute...