Friday, October 22, 2004

September 17 (Friday): Aprille. More lateness from Graham. Today, in order to get a quick “off� this evening, I drive into work. Still, it doesn’t prevent me from being late into work.

Today is the big day for me, my long awaited little trip to Cambridge occurs tonight but first, first I have to get the working day out the way. Earlier in the week Eva asked me to call her up this morning to confirm this evening and as I head out to finish off the VAT return for Acme Brickwork, I make the call from my car. I speak to Eva once more and she tells me that she has had trouble receiving the explicit email that I sent her, so I figure I had best get it to her today, soon, by hook or by crook, by any means necessary.

I get to Acme Brickwork and deal with Daniel and Kevin. Daniel, a drippy Man Utd fan, tells me how he watched the Millwall game on Bravo last and that he enjoyed it although they didn’t look too great. He also noticed how great Marvin Elliott was. Acmce Brickwork turns out to be a real breeze; the job is a pickle but nothing beyond me.

When I get back to the office, Stevo whines like fuck about going to lunch and I wind up giving in and heading to the New Inn with him and Brian where we sit cramped, eating pretty awful food/lunch. Why on earth do we bother going to places like this? The meal ends on a low when Brian finishes up and leaves early, before us, with Stevo in mid moan/rant about Sunny or something. I just screw up my face.

With the dinner out of the way, I head/fly to town to get some essentials. On the way I bump into Andrew Osment who I used to go to school with and he is pretty different, looking and acting really older, much more than I do, for someone the same age. In town, I buy the essentials, supplies for this evening: headache pills, water, stomach pills. I also go to the cash machine and pull out cash on my Virgin credit card, never the best move.

The afternoon turns out to be a real drag, lasting forever with nothing happening and being a typical Friday afternoon in the office with none of the partners being around. All in all, in our little Chernobyl, with Sandip elsewhere, very little work gets done. Instead we pick up today’s Sun and each/all do the Chav test. When all is said and done, my score comes out at 31%, telling me that I am Chav-lite and that I want/need to let the inner chav in me come out.

Also in the afternoon, Andrew at Hays telephones me to tell me that Rose Calendars have chosen me for their position and offered me the job. Man, I have much bigger things on my mind today, why throw my concentration at an hour such as now? I tell Andrew “that’s cool� and I tell him that I will think it over during the weekend. He actually give me his personal/home mobile telephone number so that I can contact him on that front, the man is keen. The only holding/sticking point now seems to be study and such costs.

The afternoon turns out to be 100% nerve-wracking, resulting in me spending much of my time sat on my throne in the bathroom, a probable combination of the bad food of the New Inn, my new job offer and my impending “date� with Eva.

Finally/eventually five o’clock comes around and everyone flies out of the office like Fred Flintstone out of his quarry. By 5pm the office is dead and Who is the only remaining partner and now that he wields very little authority, all the office is out the door pretty much at 5pm on the dot.

I tear out of town like a man on a mission. As advised I take the A120 route and initially I really begin to wonder if this is the correct/best route. On the radio however the DJ (however) is playing songs in order from the nineties and for 1992 it is Come As You Are by Nirvana and in my car it sounds so magnificent. The A120 is a strange road, you drive through pit roads of Marks Tey and when you eventually hit a motorway around Braintree area, you sense you should have stayed on the A12. By 6pm however I find myself flying along the M11, well on my way to Cambridge and looking obvious that I will be arriving much too early for 7.30.

I remain on the M11 instead of switching to the A11 and it soon becomes apparent that I am going to be in town (Cambridge) before 6.30. When I hit the A14, I miss my turning so decide to go for a little drive around Cambridge. My phone beeps but I cannot reach it after it falls down the side of the passenger sear. I end up in a place called Bar Hill and go to their Tesco for a piss. I check my phone and it is Eva telling me that she has just read my email. She texts back suggesting 7.00.

I tear out of Bar Hill (pretty horrible on first impressions) and am soon back on the A14. I find my way and eventually see a motorway sign for Milton and I begin to get really nervous. I park up as soon as I go into Milton and call her up asking for specifics of her location. She gives me directions and an address and tells me it is pretty easy to find (this I doubt) but tells me not to arrive before 7.00. Her address is 223 The Spires or something. I drive along and actually find the road easy, still with about 10/15 minutes to waste. I also find another Tesco, one almost exactly like the store in Bar Hill.

I drive towards the address for 7pm and Milton’s residential area is really lovely, surrounded by trees giving it a warm feel and new/recently built houses already looking like warms, new but not sterile. The address for our rendezvous turns out to be a flat, which semi calms me down after imagining all kinds of scenarios of seeing a professional lady in a domestic scenario/situation (ie a home).

Now, it depends on how well you know me as to whether you believe me or not when I say that I eat a dog biscuit and find myself forced to masturbate into a dog bowl whilst being slapped in the face. For full details of happened, please feel free to email me.

When I get downstairs and outside I jump in my car, check my phone for messages and down so much water it is obscene. The hour is 8.30 heading towards 9.00 and I feel shattered, hungry and thirsty. I get in my car and drive of, out of Milton. I stop by at the Milton Tesco and can’t decide what treats to buy. I plump for crispy M&Ms and the biggest bag of balti mix ever seen in history. Whilst in the shop I see the most amazing looking lady/girl. She looks normal but when I see her again in the car park, she is driving a sports car.

I tear home in the rain, bombing down the A14 eager to get home. The drive is long and I think about things aplenty, being pretty philosophical in the process.

I get back to Colchester at around 10pm and pop into the Highwoods Tesco for some more essentials.

When I get in (finally), B is online on MSN and I say “hi�. We have a fantastic chat and I tell her (vaguely) what I have done, in full mind of how she reacted to when I told her about Victoria back in the day. I also give her a play-by-play of my overeating of a too big bag of balti mix while she points to various garments on Ebay she appears to wish she could buy.

This evening though, MSN turns out to be my downfall when Sarah (Shah!) comes online to speak to me. We start out being fairly nice nice but then she begins to piss me off, not least for boasting about how some guy from Capita in Manchester had taken her to dinner in Manchester. Is this told to make me jealous? I don’t want to fucking know. However, I am fortunately in a fine mood, so I go out of my way to repulse her, telling her graphically what I have just gotten up to in Cambridgeshire. She begins ragging on me, accusing me of being a pervert or something, telling me that I am “just as bad as the partners� at BS. I don’t fucking care. However this does get us onto the subject of work and she begins moaning about my work mates and going out. The hell night from July, where I just walked off, gets mentioned and she has the fucking arrogance to say that she had a good time (while I had the worst time, she had a good time seemingly at my expense). However, I get in the last/best blow when I tell her that everyone at my firm thinks she is “mixed pickles�, which is not opinion, its fact. She explodes and goes postal, signing offline immediately. Then she returns online for a few seconds saying “when Azmei (her sister) gets back Tuesday, I am going to tell her that she can either be friends with me or you. And if she is wise, she will choose me�. Wow, these are the words of a 28 year old sounding like the words of a pre-teen. I’m such a dippy cunt for even bothering with her. Still, like a cute prick, I think its funny and text her “come back online, you sound sad�, as if I actually care about her feelings at all.

I go back to B (a safer bet) and tell her about my “stalker� Sarah and I go to sleep thinking about the evening.

np: Nirvana - Come As You Are


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