am now annoying myself. It appears I have a natural internal body clock. Unfortunately it appears that I can’t alter the time on it.
Every morning whether with an alarm clock or not I will wake up between 8:10 and 8:20. To guarantee getting to work on time I have to leave my flat by about 8:10. Every morning I wake up, look at the time and my heart inks. Into it’s familiar pit f unpunctuality.
For the nth morning I skip the shower (I must really smell bad at work – though in my defence I did have a bath last night, so not too shabby…)
I remember that my travelcard is up and have to spend precious seconds scrabbling round for 5p’s to the machine to afford a single. I am writing this at work and am as yet unsure how to fund my getting back. I might sell a kidney.
I put on my work trousers, remembering like every morning that I’ve forgotten to fix the hole in the pocket. So my 5p’s like soil in the great escape comes cascading down my legs and roll under the bed.
I am finally out of the door and hobbling on my sprained ankle to get to the tube station. If I can get there by half past I’ll only be five mins late, if I’m lucky.
It is 8:32 and at least five mins away.
Five of those minutes later, ticket in hand, I am on the platform, a train is approaching, I can relax.
20 seconds later the train still seems to be approaching. It is stopped at the end of te platform.. My devious little mind is actually thankful for this, the old living in London adage of “the tubes are fuckedâ€. I got there on time, really I did, but the jubilee line Is buggered…check the website.
Then I notice there is someone on the track, he isn’t mad and wear the blue jacket o f a tube employee. I’d have thought that the first element of basic raining world be on how crawling in front of trains at 8:37 (oh my god, 8:37?) isn’t safe.
I look again, there seems to be no woman damsel tied to the track, I cannot possibly reason why he is down there. And aren’t the tracks electrified?
He climbs back up on to the platform, far more elegantly than I have so far managed in the swimming pool and a lady is gushing with praise. Was it her baby?
King of. It was her phone, the stupid cow had dropped her phone on to the track and no we were all late (I was there on time m’lud) because of it,
I sneaked a peek, it wasn’t even a very good mobile phone, I’d have let it go and gotten a new one on the insurance.
I made it into work at a quarter past nine…again.