May 19 (wednesday): you better stay out of my way. Again I get it all right, I leave the house at 6.30, get the 6.50, get a seat, get off, get a Metro, get to Shepherd's Bush around 8.30. Today I prepare and plan for the oriental lady. And when I arrive there she is sat in the same place third day running. I prepare to say "hello" to her today in a manly/sexy voice and intend to add "all right?" to add something that might go somewhere. However, I sit down and she doesn't even look up, I could cry. The course goes badly again, Capital Gains Tax on shares? Benefits In Kind? Those are for the rich people. Breakthrough at break though, at the drinks machine I bump into oriental girl and she begins to talk. She is tired. I am curt, my instinct and nature, and blow the opportunity to make a mountain out of a molehill. When the register comes round I look over the names and guess which one she might be. I pick my name and hope to add the name to the face. At lunch I go for it and ask how's things with the course today. It clicks and I'm in like Flynn. We walk talk down Shepherd's Bush High Street, I sound totally goofy and I faux pas by asking "where is your accent from?" to which she replies "what? London?". I thought she might have been an Oriental American with that accent and being she is reading the Financial Times I figure she is Little Miss Big Shot. She introduces herself as Phoebe (so my guess of her name being Phoebe L u k was correct). I head to Safeways and she heads to McDonalds, this I always like, I like nihilistic girls who eat fast food without dying or getting fat. See you silly No Logo/Stupid White Men cunts it is possible. We talk through lunch and I just sound goofy again, I have little life and energy and there is no real spark BUT she remains open and receptive, which I really like/appreciate. I feel much better about things although my/the course is now going to hell for me. I really like this lady, I love her name and think she is gorgeous like an oriental Julia Stiles.

The day soon ends and I am wheeling my way home to play the much anticipated 5-a-side league game against Acme Grain. I approach the game (and seeing Jimmy) with much trepidation. I expect the shit has now hit the fan on Acme Financial Management. Just as I am on the train home Stevo phones me from work, third day running. He's checking up on my whereabouts and ability to get back in time to play tonight. He isn't talkative as usual, almost cagey, so I sense there is something up Acme Financial Management finally. For the remainder of the ride home I curl up with stress/tension. What am I walking into tonight? There is a real vibe/atmosphere attached to the game. Steve is fairly tight lipped, Iran says "hello" and nothing else and I can't even remember Jimmy speaking to me. I ask Steve for an update at work. Seems Acme Financial Management has experienced problems but it is Drew that is getting it in the neck and getting the blame. Can't see why that is? I didn't (couldn't) complete the job fit enough for the hot review which I believe was yesterday. Steve tells me not to worry and I express my concern that I think "I'm going to lose my job over this". And Iran and Jimmy's reception suggest this could be true. Will all this toll in addition to returning from London knackered, football fucks up. I suck up and let in a bomb. My heart removed, in goal I resemble Daria playing volleyball, sticking out a token hand in a non-effort to stop the ball. Things are pretty tight at the beginning but things soon fall to pieces. Iran gets fucked off and shows off how he gets when things don't go his way and he begins shouting people down. A couple times Jimmy fucks up and Anglia score on his errors. I decide to stop passing to him as a gesture of a loss in faith in him to mirror how he seems to have lost faith in me at work. Slowing the halftime score of 6-3 to Anglia becomes a landslide and eventually it's about 23-4 at the close, Jimmy scoring a late goal to make sure we don't get shut out in the second half (Iran stroppily got a first half hat-trick). After the show things at our end make the changing room feel like a morgue. Anglia think they thumped us, thrashed us on merit when in reality we defeated ourselves. I spend no time hanging around after the game, still which is more time that Iran (now mardy) and Jimmy (saying bye to the opposition but not his own team). I am relieved beyond relieved to get home just past seven. The climate is astonishing, like mainland Europe at the height of summer. Eventually I bath, eventually my head hurts. I am really worried about life and work again, something is going to happen monday (you read it here first).