Not much more

I was skipping through some old posts on here, as I sometimes do, and came across this cheery invective, The Grumbling Commuter. Plus ça change, I thought – this last weekend I’ve done a number of the same things that I enjoyed doing in April, and I’ve come back to the same crushingly-dull work. No spring drizzle this time, but a jam-packed tube doesn’t cheer up the righteously indignant mood you’ll find yourself in reading The Road To Wigan Pier.

But there’s hope on the horizon. Despite all appearances, I’m a relentless optimist, but this time with good reason. I either get onto my MA course and change my life around; or I don’t, and I change my life around anyway. It’s time to do something: I’m old enough to not have to be sitting in an office doing the same job I did as a last resort when I left university 6 years ago, temping. I’m big enough and ugly enough to make a career, so I’m all up for it.

I just hope my referee will pull his/her finger out. For the record, I found my solace in Hubert Selby’s Last Exit To Brooklyn then, it seems an age ago that I read that. Now I’m dividing my brain: George Orwell for the tube, PD James’ The Children of Men in the bedroom, Freakonomics in the bathroom.


One Response

  1. In case I forget to tell you later, when I was snoring through paperwork today I was digging about in my bag to see if there was a stray sweet or something to lift my mood, I haven’t used this bag in a while and in the pocket I found the April 15th McDonalds receip for Enfieldt! Looks like we had the usual 😀

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