"Your jumper is trapped in the door" - 06/11/2006

Christ there were so many goddam slow coaches in the fast lane of my swimming session that after nearly clattering into the back of one bloke I just stood up and walked behind him for over half a length. Went into the shallower, training pool and as that has no lane dividers managed to blast out 20 continuous lengths by swimming round people. It probably felt like I was terrorising the pool but I was so riled up by this point that if anyone had even given me a funny look I would have gone into one. I probably sound a miserable bastard and I'm not saying that the world should revolve around me but you do expect that to swim in the fast lane you would be capable of a fast-ish pace. It's the equivalent of some pootling along arsewipe doing 45mph in the fast lane of the motorway. At least the anger keeps me charged for longer, which in turn makes me push harder which is never a bad thing.

Managed to do a little more research on Barcelona, which is always good. Where to go in the evening, club wise, doesn't seem as clear cut and there isn't as much internet material for Barcelona as there was for Vegas. It makes me realise what a godsend the Las Vegas talk forum was for us. Anway I managed to ascertain that they have these two bus routes that do a north and a south hop on - hop off route which basically hits all the main sights. The northern one stops at the Nou camp, which one particular colleague wants to go to. Another wants to go to Montserrat which is about an hours journey outside of Barcelona. I also want to take a look at some of the shops.

At last I managed to change the rear brake light on my car. I must confess that it's been out for a good few weeks now and what with busy-ness at work didn't want to just head out and start working on it. Managed to figure it out and replace it with ease. It felt good to have it done, now I've just got to do the interior light and give it a damn, good clean. Went to the gym on Weds night but I managed to tweak a muscle in my calf. I thought I'd properly stretched before the run and that I would be able to run it out but 5 mins into my run and I felt something strange. I stopped anymore leg related exercises and just concentrated on the weights machines. Not building up a proper sweat or leaving the gym as knackered as I normally do meant I felt like a bit of a fraud.

Stayed late on Thursday for ASOT and also for my bro who was working late next door. ASOT was good and I attempted to add some stuff to my site, hugely important pieces like my favourite eateries, my review of Halo 2 etc, but seemed to just mooch around the web, which is fatal. When bro arrived we headed over to the Tesco at the Royal Docks as the website said they had a large clothing section here. This Tesco's was huge, the biggest goddam supermarket I've ever seen. Glass fronted and split over two floors with an escalator serving the two levels. Upstairs was the clothing section along with entertainment and electronics etc and downstairs the normal stuff but twice the quantity. It was pretty damn impressive.

We had a gander round the clothing section and I showed bro my shoes. He reacted in horror saying they would either be worn by old men or geeky nerds at school. I did like them and their comfort but deferred to his greater awareness of fashion. Did pick up a jumper which was nice and met with his thumbs up. It was getting late and knowing that bro had worked all day and not had lunch offered to get him a McDonalds. The one on the retail estate we were at was closed with the lights off so we went to one further up the road that was lit up like a christmas tree. The lights might have been on but there was certainly no one home. Ok, if you begin to put obstacles in my way and tell me I can't have something, I'm going to want it even more. Ummed and ahhed about whether to hit the Mc's at Lakeside, Thurrock or return to the one at Canary Wharf. Canary Wharf was closer so we blatted back there. Pulled into the drive thru section as the lights were on still but again no one was home. I then saw a banner to the left of me saying 'Sun-Thurs 7-12, Fri-Sat 24 hr'. My car clock said 00.12 so we'd missed hot food by 12 minutes!

Now I was getting a little pissed and I asked bro what he wanted to do. He was tired but he'd also got the 'taste'. To quote James Coburn from The Magnificent Seven (with a minor change) 'Nobody shows me an empty service box and tells me to run away, nobody'. So we hit the road again and blasted down to Lakeside. Surely this one would be 24 hr we hoped. It always used to be and it is so close to such a major junction with the Dartford crossing etc. We pulled down and into the road it was on and saw the golden arches shining brightly. Pulled round into the car park and although the lights were all on it was definitely closed. Now I was fully enraged. I slammed down on the horn for a good 30 seconds and cursed like a trooper.

Sweet Jesus, a chain as big as McDonalds and after visiting four establishments nothing. All the flak that they take from healthy eaters and food fascists and here are two willing customers wanting to enjoy their product who can't get it for love nor money. What's worse is that even if they were open they would only have a limited menu. I went to one in the Old Kent Road recently and under the evening menu they don't serve cheeseburgers! What is the point in a McDonalds if you can't get a cheeseburger. I realise all of this is totally irrational and immature for a middle aged man but christ I was pissed. Drove home angry and made do with some toast.

Friday and I had to put my mind to working on a brief for a recycling campaign for one of our clients. I don't find writing difficult but trying to get the right tone of voice proved frustrating. My boss is awesome at writing this business speak stuff especially after having nailed this long written pitch for another project in like a day and a half. It's just a case of switching your writing style into that kind of language, though there is a tendency to over complicate as you trip yourself up thinking I can't possibly write it as simple as it sounds. Lunch was a nice pastie with all the usual trimmings and you know how much I enjoy a Friday hot lunch.

A little lay in on Saturday but not too much. MI 3 arrived on DVD which I was pleased about. We were going out that night to see some fireworks on Blackheath and I agreed with my friend to pick him up earlier than normal and head to Bluewater to shop for some bits before collecting my bro and heading back to the heath for the fireworks. Heading to his was a pain in the arse with the heavier traffic and the earlier start meant I couldn't fit in the gym. Eventually got to his around 2.30 after having been in the car for over an hour. It then took another hour to get to Bluewater what with the traffic leaving London.

Wasn't sure how my mate wanted to play it ie splitting up or not so I thought I'd hang with him but after a few minutes detected that he'd probably be more comfortable shopping on his own. I headed off and wandered around the shops. Needless to say my normal shopping centre melancholy crept in. It seems that the people who head round the shops are divided into two categories:

The also-rans, the nothings, the uglies, the uncools, the geeks, the chavs and

The honeys, the cools, the switched on, the affluent, the beautiful.

No guesses where I think I inhabit. Walking around I realise how uncomfortable and awkward I am in the package/body/face that I reside. Yes I could lose weight but I would still feel a nerd, a loner, an outsider. My face doesn't fit. Bluewater and it's occupants bustle past me and I seem to move half as slow as everyone else. We had over three hours to kill so there was no rush for me and I meandered round.

I think I've been denied or starved of romance for so long and have given it such a fairytale corona that I know I'll never find it. I've been single and independant for so long that I don't even know how I'd deal with losing my freedom. I'm never going to find someone who loves me so completely that they will let me do what I want to do. Here I am thinking of getting an x360 yet if I had a partner I know I'd have to earn my time to play it. I'd only get to play it for a few hours before I received accusations of 'are you ever going to spend time with me / do some work around here / take me out'. I guess in reality I enjoy my freedom too much. Seeing arguing couples or the trivialities, huffs and moods so evident when moving round Bluewater means I should be grateful for not having to contend with that bullshit. Not having to answer to anyone, not having to defend or protect my obsessive enjoyment of films and computer games.

Why don't I feel this release then? Is it just because I don't have it that I want it. Do I just want to have my ego massaged from time to time by a girl to let me know that I'm still attractive to the opposite sex. Do I crave the completeness and fulfillment of a loving union but even when knowing that it doesn't exist still want to believe that it does. Is true love the adult equivalent of Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy? Does my dis-enfranchisement from the rest of the population come from lacking the validation of one's self that someone loving you for you can bring? Have I become so far gone, been a bachelor for so long that there is no escape or last minute reprieve. I've never holidayed with a girlfriend and I've never been introduced to someone as 'this is my boyfriend'.
In many ways it's easy for me to dislike women, the trouble they cause and emotional wrangles that they put you through. Yet in reality they are the ultimate drug, the thing that can make you feel the most complete.

I did pick up some bits while there. I needed underwear and bits for Barcelona from M&S and I also got an XXL cardigan from Next. I'm not huge or even big but I do like a comfortable fit from over garments like jumpers etc. It dismays my female boss but I find something comfortably re-assuring in the extra warmth and material that getting another size up gives me. Met back up with mate and bro outside his work and returned to the car.

We pulled off and then heard a recurring flapping sound. Stopped and checked the car to discover a semi-flat tyre. Brilliant. We had to get to Blackheath for the fireworks and now had to contend with this shit. Limped to a nearby station and filled it back up with air. It hadn't gone completely flat so hoped that a blast of air might suffice. It didn't and five minutes later the sound returned. Pulled into another station and decided to change the tyre. I had to change it once on the Focus and I hoped this would be the only time I had to change it on the Fiesta. With three of us working it didn't take a great deal of time, though my mate did most of the work. Now we were running late, limited on our top speed due to the restrictions of the spacesaver spare tyre and I would be facing a new tyre bill of £130 with the inconvenience and time out of the office in getting it done.

Made our way to Blackheath but with less than half an hour to go to the fireworks and being less than a mile from the heath we hit snail pace traffic. At one point we were moving so slowly that I noticed the passenger of a car running alongside us had trapped her jumper in the car door. I waited for her to look over and told her that "your jumper's stuck in the door". Apparently the tone of my voice expressed my thoroughly pissed off-ness with the days fun and games and I might have well as just called her a stupid bitch. She thanked me but bro and mate couldn't stop laughing at the contemptuous way that I said it to her. I hadn't meant to come across that way. I didn't want to seem over eager in case the car remained next to ours and embarrassment ensued but I admit that I might have pushed it too far down the negative bar.

We remained stuck in traffic while the half hour firework display began at 8. We managed to see a sliver of the fireworks over the top of the trees and could hear the music, which did sound good (OHMSS, Phantom Menace). The exodus began when the fireworks finished and we thought that although we missed them we could still make the dinner that had been pre-booked at a nearby hotel. This wasn't to be the case either though as it took us another hour and 15 minutes to be allowed to get onto the heath as the police had closed all the roads. Eventually we parked up and raced in to meet the other three that had been there an age. I was relatively short tempered by this point and after being told to head downstairs by the front desk began looking for the restaurant. At one point I walked clear through the middle of someone's private 40th birthday function. I eventually found it and thankfully the girls had ordered the food and it was waiting for us in the kitchen.

Bro and I dispensed with the pleasantries and got stuck right in. I hadn't eaten all day and was famished so managed to clear the starters (breaded mushrooms, spring rolls etc) and main course (three sausages, mash, baked beans and gravy) before grabbing two helpings of spotted dick and custard. We retired to the bar afterwards and though I was driving and hadn't touched a drop of alcohol, felt pissed. I think the sudden intake of food, combined with the stress of sitting in the car for so long and walking round Bluey in my boots because I'd prepared for the cold of the heath must have taken an effect on me. My cheeks were rosey and I felt tired yet restless. Remained there for a few more hours by which time I wanted nothing more than my bed. Headed home, driving past Cave Austin and we joked about how mystery girl had probably been there that night. Her mate had probably scored and she was sitting all alone wishing that some guy in a novelty t-shirt and who had his own website, would come and talk to her. She'd probably be depressed at how she always made an effort in the morning to look good and went to the station in different routes and times to be noticed yet no one ever said Hi. Although we joked about it, knowing my luck it was probably true.

Sunday and I was up for 10ish, early for me, to phone round and see if I could sort out this tyre. Needless to say the places that were open didn't have my tyre in stock but could order it to arrive on Tuesday. Hit the local shops for a mooch but didn't really see anything. Thought I'd whip up a spag bol for bro so we could eat it when he got in from work and before we watched Mission Impossible III. Both were excellent and it was good to see Tom Cruise in action again. Like Warrior King the week before, it was nice that my first impression from seeing it in the cinema still remained. The gadgets are clever and functionary rather than silly and serving the gaps in the creators creativity and it contains a truly beautiful car.

Barcelona is getting closer, talk soon.