Most mornings, as I munch on my Kellogg’s Crunchy Nut Corn Flakes, I watch television. I tend to just watch music channels and look out for something interesting to listen to and wake me up. Usually, the same select few videos being shown, at what is still deemed nightshift period for the channel operators. Flickering around as I do, I came to Magic and heard the opening few beats to a song, I started listening to a few months ago. My longing to see the video had come true. Not knowing what to expect, but the video was in the abrupt style of the artist, rather than meeting any desire of the movie, Pretty Woman from 1990. Funny how I only discovered the song, by a chance choice of my housemate, in April. The question though, is what gets you up in the morning?
Friday was a strange day for me. I had been expecting to work until 6pm, however, to aid a colleague, I swapped to the 9 to 5 slot. I do not have a problem working until 6pm, but on a Friday, I just have a great urge to get home and get the weekend started. Heading home at an alien hour was a new experience. My tube trip back to Marylebone has always been quite pleasant with just a moderate level of commuters. Yesterday evening was a different story, and I was crushed towards the back of the double doors. All the commotion was due to a small band of Spanish school children. It’s funny how the moment they disembarked the train, some sort of normality was restored. Reaching the station concourse, in plenty of time to board my train home I was concerned to find my train delayed. Luckily it was only for ten minutes and I was making the penultimate part of my journey home at 5.55 pm. How do you know you are late? When you get to the bus station to find that the evening bus service is running and you have to catch the 315 heading to Lane End instead of the usual 326.
The faces of the 326 are now becoming very familiar. Those faces, I know, will be changing every week, as my shifts change and I become more an integral part of the support team. The dream that was my cushy hours of 8am to 4pm, may have been lost forever. Not to worry, let us think through carefully. What is the trade-off? Instead of having to awake at the crack of dawn, I leave home at a more reasonable time, have to suffer a slight increase in the number of passengers on my train into London. There is also the fact that Marylebone underground station is closed until 9.30am, so I have to walk across the road to Baker Street. Packed like sardines, is the only way to describe the level of commuter traffic at this time of the day, but the stress-inducing journey is short-lived for only two stops before once again, normal service is resumed. Next week will be the big test. Depending on how I find my journey and also how I cope with returning home, so late in the evening, there is little getting in the way of me making the most of my workday. As I am reminded by Mr. V every morning, this is one of the greatest capital’s in the world.
On Tuesday, there was a scruffy looking gentleman in his mid-thirties. He wore ragged dirty clothes, giving the appearance he had been hard at work decorating earlier today. His mousy brown hair was short, almost a crew cut. Unpleasant. That was the word that came to mind when I saw him, waiting outside, the 326 at the station. In his hand, a 50cl glass bottle of brandy, half empty. Dare I use a dirty word, and describe this man as ‘working class’ ? I shall, but his social standing is not the purpose of this posting. Three stops before my house, completely at random and with no real reason, he turned to look at the passengers sitting behind him on the train. His icy gaze was fixed on me, and our eyes met for a split second. He was three seats ahead of me, but it felt as if he was much closer than the physical distance. He asked, in a coarse voice, “What is it that YOU wear?”. Somewhat bewildered, I was about to respond, “Haven’t you seen a suit before?” While this instant response was clicking over in my mind and before I had a chance to speak, he added, “..saris…”. I corrected his poor pronunciation. Then he continued his conversation with his friends, about the form of formal Asian dress. Turning his back to me, I drifted out of the conversation and out of his consciousness. Had I ever really been in the conversation? On reflection, no but a strange way to be spoken to and all in all, an unusual incident on a rather lacklustre bus journey.
Was hoping to go to see Spiderman 2 with another Saturday night at the movies. It was not to be. Therefore I am going on Monday night, which although not of my own choosing, means I do get to see the blockbuster as close to the release in the UK as possible. I hope to give my humble opinion on the sequel, later next week.
God works in mysterious ways. Even my blog has noted some of the strange situations that have opened themselves up to me. Boarding the Bakerloo line train at Embankment, taking an available free seat. A young Asian man sat next to me, appearing to be in his early twenties also. Reading a paper, he was given a letter by a friend sitting directly opposite. Although not wanting to be nosey, I could not help but look and see at least what was the contents of this document. I signed and looked up to the ceiling of the train. Why had the powers that be, placed me on this train, at this time, to be sitting next to this person, on this day? Not wanting to wallow on this subject for too long, but why was I not also to receive such good news? For a split second, I jumped out of my body and was looking at my life, my achievements and ultimately where my life was going. Had I become the person, I had always dreamed I would be? Maybe not. The dream has not died. For that man, may not have achieved everything we had hoped, but look where he is now. Can you take that away from him? No, never. God help the soul who tries.
Primarily, my role is to answer the phones, but this does not mean I am chained to my desk for the course of the working day. Every so often, the opportunity arises, when I need to venture around the building, finding offices and computer equipment to repair. On one such occasion, I was in the office of a corporate partner, sorting out his laptop. While I was busy adjusting the settings on Windows 2000, a colleague walked in. They discussed at some length, a presentation they had planned for next week. I can only just begin to describe the feeling of being in the presence of such great men. I think we need to lose the stigma that all lawyers are money-driven scoundrels. Awe-inspiring to hear some of the biggest and well-known corporations on the planet be mentioned. Names such as Sony Ericsson, Siemens and The Body Shop. Firms such as this and many others all have their legal dealings through the company I am working for. I have to date, been extremely robust in protecting the name and exact location of my place of work. As tempting as it is to mention them, and allow all my readers to know which of the City big law firms, they are, I am not. Not going to be so weak and give in. There is no need. My blog has always been honest. I want it to record the moment, the music, the emotion. Of course, the facts are important, but sometimes they can get in the way of what really matters.