I prise myself from my warm bed, put my work cloths on and rustle up some breakfast sharpish. Before leaving I pick a book up from the not read yet shelf. My fingers wander quickly to the KLF book and then away again. Not the KLF then, I’m worried now that I won’t enjoy the book so I have left it on the shelf. Instead I fancy a story a made up fantsay I can picture in my head and so pick up a story book instead. I put my bag over my shoulder unlock the door step out and relock it. As usual now I put on foot in front of another and make my way to the station.
This make me recall on Saturday night about how quick my brother said I was walking, and he was right I was walking sharpish then and this morning. I’m so slow at walking has this changed things? I certainly miss the gym. All this walking I do now is nowhere near as entertaining, but then the gym was sometimes hard to get to, just from the psychological point of lets do some exercise, on second thoughts lets not. I miss the buzz in the head whilst doing it, the buzz in my body afterward and the afterglow that would linger for days afterwards that we make me feel super human. At the station there are the first signs of frost. Although the air is dry and refreshing. Whilst I don’t like getting up, I do like the morning so much. Missing them is so wasteful. And most of the time the weather in the morning is always at its finest for the day ahead.
The train comes and I sit down. I open the cover and I head for another place, it started for everyone who believed I would get here, even when I didn’t. I disappeared into the rough paper pages of type.
Today is the first day the canteen is closed. And so me and a colleague went to the nearest Tesco’s. That was until we bumped into a whole load of others doing the same as us. We weren’t along in our search for dinner. I ponder the sauage rolls, how can it be I can have 6 sauage rolls for 89p or some salad for £3, without any meat in it. Are the plants looked after beteer than the animals that make my sausage and pasty from? So things don;t bear thinking about. I so I pick up the salad and pray the plants have been told story's and talked to throughout their growing life.
I get an odd notification. Erm after all this time my brother has added me to his circles. After all this time? Can that be write? Why now? Why bother?
I can’t wait to get on the train home, not only am I tired but I also want to enter the other place for a short while.
Back at home I ponder what to have for tea. In fact I ponder to try out the oven again now I’ve cleaned it. Will it light I ponder. Will it?
It will so now all I have got to do is decide what to cook. I decide on something that's going to take a long time to cook, something that's going to get the burner working hard.
Something, that no doubt has been as well cared for and nurtured as the salad leaves I ate for dinner. I have Southern Coated style chicken and try not to ponder or think anymore.
I watch the gas burner working, burning brightly, then less so, then brightly once more as it keeps the temperature steady. This is looking good, this is looking real good. I dribble from the mouth, only 45 more minutes to go. I look around ravenous. I must eat I must eat now. But I don’t, I just keep dribbling.
Following the scrumptious size pieces of chicken, I look up in the cook book how to cook a fresh chicken and then settle on my sofa. I put on a film and sink into the soft cushions in the darkness.
I await the plot, I await the twist, I await the backstabbing, I await the end.