Tuesday, 20 December 2016


I spent most of today trying to get people to pay their bills. Because if they don't - I can't. It was frequently like prising their cold, dead fingers from a stone. It's been the most depressing day of the week so far - although one of the guys in the office did buy everyone a bottle of wine for Xmas - which embarrassed me more than anything. We are going for a drink tomorrow to end the year. I am going to try and get a lot done - I think I'm going to drop a client as well - they are basically wearing me out - I made it quite clear to the person who liases between us that it's almost impossible to work the way they do.

A parcel I sent someone 2 weeks ago is in sorting office purgatory and looks like it will remain there for weeks, after that time I will need to resend it - another fiver wasted.

I've come to the decision to completely ignore Xmas this year - I have no interest whatsoever in the whole sorry mess. I'll find something to occupy my mind while it all blows over.

That annoying woman I mentioned last night who monopolised the till in Tesco was in Lidl when I bough vegetables earlier - and again, in front of me in the till. This time the child was in the trolley - the mother passed each item to her so that she could put it on the conveyer. Except, of course, she threw it on the floor. So mum would repeat the process. I joined another queue.

It's starting to get cold. I'm dreading that - this house is freezing. The spare room window is stuck open and I need to climb onto the kitchen roof to close it, impossible unless it's very dry.

This Photograph is everywhere today. It's astonishing for a million reasons - of course. But what struck me was how cinematic it was - white walls and floors, carefully posed actors around the scene - background props of art and the good looking Anti-hero in the sharp suit who could have been an actor. Most of all - in the grade centre - a single flash of colour. A bright orange, obviously expensive handbag - creating the focal point for the whole scene. You couldn't make it up. I thought for a moment that it was a mirror for the Helmut Newton images that were created for the film 'Eyes of Laura Mars' - slick, sexy violence as entertainment. Alas - it's very visual power has created a field day for conspiracy theorists. One friend pointed out that the soles of the dead man's shoes were scuffed, which convinced her it was real. Can anything be sadder or more pathetic. Putting on your best shoes and expecting a nice evening and a glass of wine, and then coming to this?

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