All entries for Tuesday 22 March 2005

March 22, 2005

oh what a beautiful morning

today, i fear, is not going to be my day.

i woke up at 6:20 in a hotel room. don't fret, this isn't going to be some chuck-like story about finding a dismembered hooker in the bath, just a hanish story of confusion and what happens when a student has to – gulp – rise early.

i then went back to sleep and slept through my morning call, but woke up when my mother rang my phone [which was, bizarrely enough, on silent]. this was at 7:15. i rushed about, falling into my clothes and trying to ignore my puffy face in the many mirrors. the pants i'd conscientiously washed the previous night and placed on the towel rail were still fairly wet; the 'CAUTION! HOT!' sign above the rail obviously meaning to deceive me. i put them on and danced about the room a bit.

breakfast was rushed. i ordered tea and sat down, got up and got cereal, sat down, started eating and smelled [i'm tired – is that how you spell smelled? argh] the cup of liquid they'd placed at my side [which looked suspiciously like coffee]. i realised with a sinking heart that my bag and coat were gone from the floor beside my legs, which was swiftly followed by the realisation that they were at the next table along and i had my nose in someone else's coffee and was eating with someone else's spoon. i crawled back to my own table.

the cereal was a wash, so i moved onto the hot breakfast. there was only one ketchup left and in defiance of the people lined up behind me [and to soothe my bruised ego after the table confusion incident] i took it, and strode determinedly back to my table. the ketchup packet proved bastardly to get into, and when i did squeeze some out it flew across my table in a stream and possibly all over the back of a bloke sitting near me [i kept my eyes down, finished my orange juice, cut my losses and left].

the taxi driver spoke only in riddles, telling me about the fair that had recently arrived on the common; it was a crock-fair in the 1960s, he said, but every time he repeated the old term he seemed to drop the 'r' and i clutched the strap of my bag tightly to me and made understanding noises when he moved on to talk about his marriages.

so, after a night away i return to this den of poo, slightly queasy and just waiting for someone to come and fix this house so i can do the work that is the sole purpose for me remaining here. that's that.

March 2005

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