Woke up, fell out of bed, dragged a comb across my head. Found my way downstairs and drank a cup, and looking up I noticed I was late. Found my coat and grabbed my hat, made the train in seconds flat…
Well I would’ve if the damned thing had been on time! Pity really, I was marvelling in the frosty start to the day, the slow sunrise glinting over the rooftops, waxing lyrically to myself. The sky was pale blue with a yellow gold hue gently peeping over…. etc etc… then they announce that the train is six minutes late. Not a huge margin granted but that’s not the point, it was the first flaw of the day.
You see, I was determined to make today a good day. Yes I know it’s Monday, but I’m fed up moaning at the start of every week. Not this week! I said to myself. It’s a new month, a new day, a new sunrise. Today would be a good day, it’s all down to attitude! Be positive!!
I’m partly to blame for things going wrong though. I’m an idealistic planner. Not always a hugely realistic one but I do plan things out in my head, estimating times, making sure I get the right seat on the train (currently if you face backwards on the train in the morning you get the sunrise right in the kisser, later in the year it will be the sunset that is the enemy). So this morning I had a nice quiet train ride planned (I was catching the early train), a leisure peruse through the paper, and a couple of cups of coffee at work whilst checking email, catching up on news etc … all before anyone came in. Peace and quiet.
But no. In six minutes the platform filled up with the people arriving early for the next train, so the delayed train was ‘overcrowded’ (well by my definition anyway) prompting Smokey McSmoke of Smokesville to sit next to me. Not the most pleasant smell in the morning, stale smoke intermingled with the remnants of that ‘last puff’ which I’m sure he was still exhaling as he sat down. Yeuch. Add to that Mr and Mrs Big-Bagglesworth who, between them, clocked me on the head no less than 14 times (yes, I counted) as they manoeuvred up and down the corridor in their epic quest to find two seats together. Is it really that much of a bind to take separate seats for a 30 minute train journey? Will true love come off the rails? (pun intended).
30 minutes later we are spewed forth into Glasgow. My arms and back are sore having had to sit at a funny angle to be able to read my paper (and why is it always me who has to move his arms? Why can’t MY arms be wedged across the armrest?), my head now has a small tender lump on it, perfectly ‘corner of large bag’ sized, and when I arrived in work I find my mug hasn’t been put in the dishwasher over the weekend. It is the ONLY mug that is dirty.
Sometimes I amaze myself with my own naivety, it is Monday after all.
The Oscars – the true story of the wife who stayed up to watch them.
What I did yesterday – the amazing things you can do when you have a ‘free day’.
Comment Spam – is the comment left here on Saturday (by a ‘J. D. Nelson, King of the Astr’) really just a ploy to get a vote on for some poetry site??