God, I love days like this. Woken at 12 and 2 and again at 5, at which point I give up and take over the feeding. An hour and a quarter later, Baby is full and finally asleep. It’s too late to go back to bed so it’s time to get ready for work. Never mind, I think; I’ll catch the earlier train, I think; get in early and make the most of it, I think. I think that the AA fixed my car yesterday. I think the AA are a bunch of losers whose idea of fixing a car is getting it running for 5 minutes, saying “That’s sorted” and walking away. My car’s not going anywhere. It’s as dead as Dodo. It takes me forty-five minutes to walk to the station. Not only do I miss the train I hoped to catch but my regular one too. Now I’m going to be late. The next train is packed to gills but I manage to grab a seat next to a man with facial impetigo. My attempts to scratch some sleep together on the journey are shattered by aborted attempts by my fellow passengers to make meaningless phone calls. “Hi Sue, it’s Steve. Everything’s fine.” “Morning Gary, Graham here. Train’s on time.” “Daniel, it’s David. You okay?” What is it with these alliterated morons who need to hear voices first thing in the morning? My neighbour turns his iPod up to 120dB to drown out the calls and leaves me deaf in one ear. How can earphones possibly emanate so much sound? My oasis of fifty minutes peace turns out to be a cruel mirage that shimmers but never materialises all the way to Euston. And then there’s the Tube: don’t even get me started about the fucking Tube. I swear that someone, somewhere is taking the piss.
And now...relax...
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