Thursday, 30 September 2010

Wednesday 29th September | I've god a cowd...

Holed up in my favourite cafe nursing a cold and a mug of hot chocolate, there's three council workers in blue overalls wielding a formidable looking piece of kit around the floor. The bleeps it emits sound out a warning. Expensive disruptions ahead. Things don't look good as they take it in turns to emit their own sounds. The universally understood sucking of air over teeth to achieve a long drawn out musical tut of doubt. I trully believe that every apprentice in every town in every country all over the world is taught this sound on their first day on the job.

I've been thick with cold for a few days and the weather is streaming along with my poor, sore nose. Today I'm supposed to be better. I've battled with my symptoms long enough, and I've decided that today is going out of the house day. Secretly though. I do not feel better - I just know I've used up my 'whining' partner chips over the last couple of days, so I just have to suck it up and snuffle in silence.
But I really, am really sick...

I do have a number of commissions to complete. Post my details to the electoral commissioner to exercise my right to vote. Although after the last disasterous outing of my little black X I'm not so sure my reasoning can be trusted to another election.

This nonsense aside, I've a hot chocolate to drink, a letter to post and some light writing exercises to get on with. This is by way of warming up to do the exercises - no sense in overstretching myself early on in the race.

So first off an inventory. We've covered the Wessex Water Workers and their high tech, low spec, plastic doo-hickey they're packing up the van now. I'm not clear if they found what they were looking for and neither is the owner of the cafe. However they have tutted and hmmd and hawwed until they measured real panic in her eyes and satisfied that for now at least their work is done - they're naffing off for a tea break. Not at this cafe neither - you must be joking it's waaay to expensive and poncy - no they'll go up the road to The Metro for a mug of tea, eggs chips and beans all for the same price as a latte at Lashings...

Then we've got the new barrista being trained, trying to take in the 5 million little details that the owner insists are important to get right. I've witnessed her do this training before and by 6pm the new girl will be practicing her first fancy leaf designs and slinging java like she's been at it for years - but for now she's caught between the money and the door. Poor little thing - if I wasn't so sick, I'd feel sorry for her. But really I'm way to busy feeling sorry for myself. Poor poor Luli...

We've got young mummies arriving all the time with their tiny charges, all bundled up in the bright motley of mothercare and gap all wearing little hopeful hats. Most of these will be pulled off before they get home and at least one will be hanging off a local railing hopeful that someone will spot it before it gets swept into a bin. I always feel a bit glum when I see a soggy little hat left on a bench, or slung from a fence post.  Despite knowing the kid is delighted, somehow the hat never got it props. Along with shoes, I also love a hat.

I've finished my hot chocolate now, which was too sweet and not really hot enough to start with. So by the 2nd half it was dissappointing and cold.

Tish! I should just give in and go home. Crawl back to bed and mope, but I've decided that today the cold ends. So it can't be helped. I just have to get on with this writing lark. This isn't the excercise by the way... what? Why are you groaning? You don't have to read this... now I'm laughing at my conceit. As if anyone other than my mother will actually read any of it... Hey Sheil... love ya x

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