spiffingwheeze

Stood on the 40 year old train, enjoying the sunshine… Sunshine streaming through the gap around the door. And the fresh 125 mph breeze through the gap at the top of the single glaze window. The frame of which has BR stamped into it. Maybe it was supposed to be BRRRRR! But hey at least it’s not winter, which means the carpet is not soaking, and some fellow commuters can sit on the floor. Beatniks. All that’s missing is dozens of people clinging to the outside.
Thankful for noise cancelling headphones. Maybe if it gets renationalised it’ll get painted a new colour again. Jimmy Savile advertised this model of train. Surely that’s enough to get them all replaced.

​So, once more you spend a month dynamiting a crater in the finances, just for one day. Then spend a week plus constant on/ off  drinking until all the days lose any sort of meaning, and you start to get a bit of cabin fever.

Coincide this with the looming start of a new year where you’re supposed to make big promises of change you know you’ll likely not keep.

All the while hoping this year might be better than the last one that was just crimped off, and refuses to flush.

I’m done with resolutions. Just keep going… That’s heroic enough.

That moment when you find yourself in a workshop wondering if the business representatives attending were selected just so that the people they work with can get some peace and quiet.

As the project lies like a whale immobilised on a beach, the attendees, to continue this analogy, are spending time at length scoring points off each other regarding which exact colour to paint the trapped cetacean. This allegedly essential decorative step is to be done before executing the rest of their brilliant plan to dynamite the creature back into the sea alive and well.

As the beast sighs its last breath unnoticed by the arguing throng, the vendor spies its demise, and, figuring the scale of the likely overrun before anyone smells rotting blubber, surreptitiously begins configuring his next Porsche online…