Thursday 4 February 2016

04/02/2016, 21:20:32: J: I promise this is me :-)

04/02/2016, 21:25:21: A: Hi Jason

04/02/2016, 21:27:20: J: Hi.  I like the pictures where you smile

04/02/2016, 22:05:03: A: Thx I am off to bed now

04/02/2016, 22:05:46: J: Good night.  Let's speak tomorrow

Dream: I find myself in an episode of Moonlighting.  Did I travel back in time?

I wake just after 7AM in solid fashion and a fairly fine mood.  I worry that I am deluding myself about the general situation at the moment.  Elements of me are acting like a bastard and my general flippancy with money yesterday was too reckless.

I don’t have a hangover but I do feel bloated.  I’m eating far too much at the moment.  Returning to train at this time is quite frankly essential.

On cue before long I am bouncing out the door and boarding a train (an Overground pleasure).  Omens prove good as when I arrive at Whitechapel it is the second train that is a Hammersmith Line one.  Often I have waited what feels an eternity for these things.  I’m on a streak.

With this in swift fashion I am soon at Farringdon catching a coffee at Caffe Nero before bounding into the office and interesting people.

Quite often it is the mature assistant and I that are the first people in.  We are actually both quite old school.  It’s a shame that he dresses in shirt and trousers because I think it would be more than accepted for us to dress casual (and thus comfortable).  I know for sure I would be much more productive.  That said this unified appearance and responsibility forces me to keep my eye on the ball and my standards high.  And we’re not talking about James Morris standards here, we’re talking solid standards of substance, not smoke and mirrors to cover cracks.

Delving into the day I distribute my knowledge for what it is worth.  And at the moment what that is, I am not quite sure.  Certainly I am the only qualified accountant in the building and thus on paper the most senior and best finance person but stuff is still coming together, my role is not the finished product yet.

With an assistance that was foreign, absent and unknown at London Union/Street Feast, I piece things together here that were not previously possible.  So I’m not the worst accountant ever after all.

Bouncing off the back of yesterday’s positive visit I plant a picture with an even better understanding of proceedings.  This is how you induct/introduce a senior member of finance into your organisation.  You don’t just give them a box fresh and let them get on with it.

On that note a productive morning soon passes as a Michelin star lunch is ordered and supplied (kind of).  This is a better thing than I am used to.

Feeling good into the afternoon I sail away until finally the working day is done Cyndi Lauper style and I get to go back to my cell.

Staggering out onto the street I appreciate how livelier Farringdon is compared to St Johns Wood, Warwick Avenue and even Hoxton.  I just might have bagged my best job since Notting Hill (the studio).

On cue I cut back to Canada Water in cool fashion.  Once there I settle into the customary position.

I know there is more to life than this.  I just don’t know what/how to do it.  Where to tap into the well.

One place appears to be Tinder where tonight I find myself speaking to a latest black lady.  This one is called Abbie.  Her photos are fierce but her words are very friendly.  And excitingly she’s not too far away.

I mention that I like the photos on her profile where she smiles.  In response she goes to bed.

Wednesday 3 February 2016

“Anybody can be a bum; all it takes is the right girl, the right bar and the right friends, and you are well on your way… your buddies will see you off.  They’ll christen your dumpster for you” – Bill Hicks

I wake with it light outside.  I have plainly overslept.  The time is actually only 7.20AM but missing my mark is plausible as I continue to catch up on two weeks’ lost slept at the literal hands of Wesa.

The house is alive in the mornings now.  And with that a subtle wrestle arrives for the bathroom, which for over three years has been almost exclusively my bathroom.

Even though slightly behind on usual, without urgency I pull myself together.  This morning I’m only heading to Shoreditch and Commercial Street which is a very direct and easy route thanks to the Overground.  Today I am meeting the good people at our Spitalfields location for the time.

When I finally step down to head out I enjoy/experience my now regular customary chit chat (nice nice) with Jin.  I feel incredibly embarrassed and guilty when she tells me how I accidentally locked her out the house yesterday morning while she was feeding the ducks bread.  She actually laughs as she tells me how she was stuck outside for an hour trying to get the attention of the Chinese pair staying in the top room.  Fortunately a neighbour saw her outside and let her wait in their house.

Eventually with a blush I get to the tube station and catch the Overground up to Shoreditch High Street where I promptly head to a meeting at Bread and Wine, our location opposite Spitalfields Market.  There is a true buzz attached to Commercial Street at this hour of the day, this feels like vibrant London.  I can appreciate how Shoreditch has risen.

That said as soon as I arrive at Shoreditch High Street it occurs to me how I haven’t actually prepared for this meeting, do not even have any stationery let alone informative documents.

To literally paper up the cracks I call into Tesco in search of emergency stationery.  The selection is slim and expensive.  So I do/buy what I can then procure pep in a can in the form of Red Bull.  I am almost good to go.

Commercial Street and Spitalfields remains a very vibrant part of town.  To have a location here is excellent.

It’s a very positive thing to be here today.  I was never involved in such meetings at previous places, never got to see what I was dealing with on paper, never put full faces to names.

With this as I stand outside the restaurant waiting for others to arrive soon I spot Kitty.  She smiles in her customary distracted manner.  I don’t think she is the warmest of people.

Stepping into Bread And Wine it is not as expected.  Immediately I spot Simon who has apparently been here for a few hours.  And with this I am introduced to the shop.

First is Farouk the manager.  He promptly shows me around.  This introduction is most welcoming.  Heading downstairs it is revealed this building used to be a bank as it is visibly clear where the safes used to be situated/located.

Eventually we head back upstairs and pitch up in the corner where I meet Arnie the chef here.  To assist the process we are asked if we would like some breakfast as I go for the bacon sandwich that everyone at the restaurant has been recommending.

All in all it proves an excellent meeting.  I may not exactly get too involved but at least I am included.

Then with that we get done.  Where to now?  With mission accomplished we head back to the office.

Returning to the situation I resume my motion.  From here the working day plays out built on the momentum of the meeting.  Then with that it gets done as arrangement is in place to meet up with Beverly tonight.

When I say “it’s time we cleared the air” I actually mean its time for you to apologise to me.

Out the door I cross town to central aiming for Euston Square and Noho/Fitzrovia.  Its all very easy being located in this part of time.  And leaving the office my soundtrack is The Germs.

Beverly and I bump into each other almost by accident as I arrive early and go in search of charity shops selling records.

How are you?

Good.

Now re-acquainted, we weigh up our options.  In the end we go to Dim T, not least as I have fond/fine memories of the branch/location/restaurant at London Bridge.  The last time I was there was with Erhis on what was possibly our most fun “date”.

We settle into a window seat and exchange good blows.  Our respective years so far have opened with optimism.  And unsurprisingly a lot of talk is about work.

She tells me about an upcoming Tonight Alive gig at Kentish Town Forum.  She wants to have fun.  I tell her that I’ll take the spare ticket.

Tonight I’m non-stop jabber.  The job has given me confidence and ugly swagger.  I also eat more than my share of the food.  So on that note I pay for the whole thing.  So where to now?

The night still relatively we go for a wander through Noho/Fitzrovia and eventually find a mysterious cocktail bar called Reverend JW Simpson in the basement of a building with a speakeasy vibe.

It’s a pricy place but the ambience, calm and exclusivity justifies the tab.  We order cocktails as I drink an Aphrodite Sour.

Continuing conversation Beverly delights in telling me how she finds Pee Wee Herman stupid and annoying as I express excitement at his upcoming new movie.

Unflinching I remain running my mouth as I continue to spout all sorts of shit including commenting on my assistant’s “Dad” ring.

We sit half expecting something to occur, for either a show to begin or a crime to take place.  Instead we just find ourselves joined by more young suits sporting more money than sense.

With this we eventually call it a night as we head back to the tube.

The time is just past 11PM when we tap into Goodge Street.  She is heading north and I am going south.  That moment of the night finally arrives.

Looking at Beverly I’m not excited.  And I’m afraid this shows.  Just before her train arrives we kiss but its just a peck.  Sparks are missing.  Then with that she is gone back to Camden.

From here I head back to Canada Water which all runs smoothly as I manage to make it before 11.30PM.  It’s a late night but it could have been later.