Man up Friday

The back's a soupçon better today, which is just as well because I was in danger of getting downhearted by it all.  Well, I mean to say, it's day two ferrchrissakes.  The best years of my life are being eaten up by this boring condition.

Still, onwards and upwards.  It's off to Kings Cross straight from the office this evening for the two-hour journey to York.  I've procured a massive picnic to see us right en route.  Better that than worrying about being stranded by "a jumper" outside Hitchin.  That's happened before.  And when it does, market forces turn all the travellers against one another.  

Last time it happened, some old hands dashed-off and emptied the buffet car of booze before the engine had even struck the poor unfortunate in question.  The tell-tale urgent braking was enough to alert them to the imminent impact.  It was ten minutes before I realised something was seriously "up".  I trotted off to the buffet car for a soothing 12 cans of bitter, but the cupboard was bare.  A very dark and introspective two hours followed, which I'm sure would have been grist to the mill for Arthur Miller, but which for me was nothing more than a prolonged opportunity to confront my sober unconscious mind.  I did not like what I saw that night, friends.  No, I did not.

Anyway, no danger of that tonight.  We've half a case of Tattinger each if needs must.

Holidays...yes, again

Ooh, off to France tomorrow.  I've had a long and demanding day chez office too, which helps, as I'm now frothing at the gash for the off.  Even the flight, normally a tiresome process, is filled with appeal.  Whilst queueing up at Gatwick with the great unwashed tomorrow morning, I won't be at work for a start.  I'm actively looking forward to security, the inevitable Pret pain au raisin (candy floss for graduates) and spending £30 on magazines for a 90 minute flight.

In other news, I'm on the wagon at the moment.  I always enjoy doing this, but only when I'm doing this.  It's odd, but I find that not drinking during the week increases my energy levels during the evening.  It also makes every night different.  I keep thinking to myself "what shall I do this evening?"  And, yet, despite this knowledge, I always fall off the weekday wagon.  And then it's a wrench to climb back aboard.  No matter, I'm enjoying it thus far.

What to do this evening?  I could carve a new nut for my guitar, dismantle the dishwasher or even get in the loft and replace the extractor fan.  Or I could just stare off into the middle distance, like last night.