London.

I had a day of two halves and a middle. Good start - nice middle, terrible end.

The Start.

I popped into work quickly - I knew I'd be pushed for time so I'd already bought my tickets ( The machine is often broken - so I tend to buy a few days early ). On the train, the group of young student types on the next table were having a picnic. A balti feast from M&S, Pringles, energy drinks and cocktail sausages. By the time we got to London they were all green and rocking back and forth. One of them appeared to be 20 years older than the rest - she was the most immature. Her conversation was mostly 'He said, She said, I said' - subject matter irrelevent.

We pass through posh commuter towns, well heeled and well groomed middle class women with pearl earrings and cashmere cardigans regularly give me worried looks and clutch their leather bucket bags to their breasts.

A middle aged man sat next to me and read the Bible on his kindle. At Orpington the train filled with city boy knobheads in their 20's. I receded into my shell and carried on an inner dialogue about surviving a pandemic.

I passed through the station unmolested, the first person I saw was Melvyn Bragg. I didn't have the right change to use the toilet ( 30p ) - so I went to the National Gallery instead. It was clean and well maintained. I later spoke to a friend who works there - apparently the latrine I chose is the one that indicates I'm available for rough, anonymous sex in a cubicle. I'll bear that in mind next time.

I had a very good meeting. The only thing that ruined it was a slight faux pass on my behalf. There is a woman there I've worked with for years. She's slim, beautiful and poised, with excellent posture and always beautifully groomed. Today she looked a little fuller in the face, her roots were showing and she sat back, hunched over. I was talking about something technical - but couldn't help thinking that something was wrong and she'd let herself go - obviously my face tells a story - as she interjected with "oh, and as you've noticed, I'm pregnant" I really shouldn't be allowed out on my own.

(The Middle)

I went into the Apple Store to look at the Retina Display - incredulous that anything could be advertised as having a picture quality that was 'better than real life'. I have never seen so many people in there - thousands of them. I was approached by one of the staff, a nice enough Canadian called John - who had the evangelical zeal of all Apple employees - I couldn't shake him - I think he was just glad to talk to someone who had seen a computer before and wasn't there to check his facebook status. I made it clear from the start I had no intention of buying an iPad - I just wanted to see the screen. He went to HUGE lengths to show me comparisons ( FYI - there is nothing to say - except when you look at text, which is tangibly better on a retina display - but not enough to get me excited ). After half an hour I knew his life story, every time another staff member passed by they 'high fived' -  and I'd been worn down by his devotion to apple, I began to wonder - do they spy on he staff with hidden cameras and beat them if they don't 'perform'? - he was desperate to serve me - all that smiling was exhausting - I began to think that at any moment he might move closer, whisper something in my ear and pass me a note that said 'help - I'm being held prisoner - tell Katie Holmes to send food"

I saw a lot of rich people, and a lot of money being spent - London is a giant cash machine, there was no recession. I passed the Ritz and could see that the restaurant was at bursting point.

I went into the Dr Martens store. A pair of brogue DM's - £100... a pair of cherry red shoes with stitches - £140. I felt a bit sick.

I saw a lot of familiar faces from Soap Operas' in the mid 1980's wandering around Charing Cross, like a scene from 'How The Dead Live'.

I had a bit of spare time so I walked around the National Gallery. The early work in the Clore gallery is magnificent - as is the building. The rest of the gallery looks tired and shabby. I had a good look at The Execution Of lady Jane Grey - a favourite, and the Holbein - ruined by the self important, floppy haired twat giving a lecture to bored foreign students. The late middle ages were OK - but as we crawled towards the Victorian and Georgian, I couldn't help thinking it was a load of blowsy, shallow, overdone shite - camp, bloated, vulgar and ugly. Most of it was very chocolate box. The Constable ( the one with the rainbow) looked like a - I half expected it to be attributed to the Chapmans. The more modern stuff mostly looked like it had been left out in the sun.

London is obscenely expensive - I decided to eat at Macdonalds - the one on Fleet Street was packed - the staff were polite, efficient and fast - despite having a really difficult, shit job - and despite the fact that the supervisor was a rude bully. All that for minimum wage.


Later I met an old friend for a drink. The bar we had chosen was packed - so I stood outside with the smokers, in the drizzle. A good looking ( but not exceptional ) young woman next to me was telling her dull, suited and over groomed friends about the pre-nup she had just signed - apparently she had asked her dad for help because it's his 'territory' - she gets £22million. I swear I don't make this up - she repeated the fact at least 4 times. He friends were unfazed.

We went to the Chandos instead - were were there for an hour - long enough for the rain to flood the street outside. We then had a coffee in the Pret A Manger opposite the Edith Cavell statue of Trafalgar Square. The plinth has the word 'Sacrifice' carved into the granite in large letters. I could see it through the window, I then realised that in order to see it - I had to look through the window decal, which was in the same font ( Trajan) - it said 'CAKES!!. Ah... I weep for England.

(The End - where it starts going wrong )


I needed to catch the train - my mate catches the same one for a couple of stops. The one I was expecting wasn't running ( we checked with information - the man at the desk couldn't give a toss - when asked if there was an alternative route - he said "dunno - there might be") - so we had another cup of coffee. We had about 7 mins to spare when we finished out coffee - the train was in - but I couldn't get through the barrier with my ticket - I went to the guard and showed it to him

"it's no good, you can't come through - buy another" He was rude, surly and sneering - apparently - when I bought my ticket at Hastings Station - despite telling him it was for Friday, he's put Tuesday's date on it - making it void.

I had to run over to tickets - explained that there was a mistake - to be told by the rude, sneering, arrogant bastard behind the counter that I needed to buy a full price ticket for £29 - even though he said I was clearly the victim of a mistake - he decide to make life as shit for me as possible - ( he also lied about the price ) and I could see him smirking from behind the glass. It was sheer luck that I had the money ( I didn't take my cards ) - I was incadescent with rage at being ripped off and treated like a fool. He also made a point of serving me very slowly in the hope that I missed the last train. When I ran back to the barrier the cunt I'd already spoken to said "I told you - you can't come through " - and I had to argue with him as well.

I had to force myself to control what I said - one wrong word and they call the police, and that's me with a caution or worse. My mate had never seen me angry like that before and looked quite scared. I have to apologise to him later.

I really fucking hate the rail services in this country - over priced, shite service, dirty trains, bastard staff.

The journey home was horrible ( made the train with seconds to spare ). The girl behind me held 2 telephone conversations on two mobile phones all the way back - with two boyfriends - playing them off against each other.

At Hastings station - it was raining hard - The cab driver charged me £8 for a £3.50 journey. At home - it had been raining so hard that there were pools of water forced through all the doors and windows - flooding the house.

I had trouble sleeping after that. Because I took a day off work unpaid, the price of food, travel, extra travel etc,  - I'm the best part of £300 light on the day. I can't afford it.