So little to do...

...and so much time.

Human sardines

This morning was a particularly miserable morning, which really shouldn't have been the case - considering it's a Friday!

Weather wise it was ok, extremely bitter, but the sun was making a concerted effort to make an appearance. As long as you were wrapped up warm and kept moving (which I was, and did) it was actually quite pleasant. My journey however, was when the misery began...

Cancelled train, late train, cancelled train, late train... Cancelled train, late train, cancelled train, late train...

My train finally!!

My train full of people who should have been on the numerous previously cancelled trains...

I managed to squeeze on, just. There was no debate about it - I was getting on that train! I managed to stretch my little finger to one of the yellow poles so I was able to hold on, by the nail, just. I was squashed into the door by a lady with long wayward hair and a ridiculously big bag, but I was luckily able to shallow breathe without injesting too much of her filthy mane... just.

Then, as if the lack of trains and the packed-in-like-sardines condition were the joke, along came the punchline.

We didn't move.

For over ten minutes the train sat at the station platform, passengers squashed inappropriately close together, no room to move, inhaling the sneezes and spluttery coughs carelessly expelled all around us. Doors locked so we couldn't escape. No windows that open. No announcement to tell us why. No indication of when we may expect to begin our journey... I started to get a bit panicky with the thought of the lack of air.

At 8:26 I gave up. I had four minutes to get to work and it's a half hour journey. I resigned myself to the fact that possibly any virus I could catch I would catch, and there was nothing I could do about it. I gazed out the locked door and tried to focus on something else to keep my overactive imagination at bay in an effort to keep calm. I noticed a businessman eating a bagel, sipping his coffee and continuing chewing his original mouthful. I hate that. It makes me feel really sick, just the thought of it... Did the job though, it took my mind off being trapped in a metal tube with hundreds of other people (33% of whom were probably nutters I imagined) all squashed in like sardines.

It was another horrible journey, I just hope it's not going to be a horrible day...

I obviously don't want to temp fate, but it's actually not looking too bad so far!

So great to be back

After five lovely days off how great it is to be back...

...Or perhaps not...

It was strangely nice actually, when I first came in, because the temp that covered me caused mayhem again. I don't know how they manage it, but everything seems to fall apart when I am not here, so everyone believes I am truly wonderful! I make the most of the praise when it comes my way, sympathising with how the temp could get so many things so horribly wrong... After all, having an incompetent temp just makes me look better, so I hope the next one that covers me is really bad!

Unfortunately, the novelty of it being nice to be back soon wore off.

By 10:10 I was watching the clock with nothing to do.

By 11:00 the fire alarm had gone off 7 times.

7 times I had put my coat on to leave the building and 7 times I had to take it off and sit back down again. It may not sound like much, but at the time it was incredibly annoying - it was interrupting my surfing of the internet for one thing. Someone on the 12th floor had burnt some toast, I discovered, which was playing havoc with the alarms. As it was getting ever so slightly repetitious I sent an email to everybody explaining that a slice burnt toast was the cause of the erratic fire alarms and for once, for the first time ever, I heard someone laugh at my email as he read it out to his colleague.

Woo hoo! This is a truly momentous occasion, which I plan to treasure - my witty-but-informational email was... appreciated (albeit for a split second by a lone person). I'd better not let that encourage me to send more though, as I doubt my elation at being found funny would last for very long. I usually get at least one reply from someone telling me not to waste their time. I tend to just ignore these, but I have actually considered constructing a pro-forma email about how replying to my waste-of-time email is surely a greater waste of their time than simply glancing at a three lines about a lost cardigan, not microwaving paper cups, or indeed, burnt toast. I've thought better of it until now - I'm saving that until I'm feeling really mischievous (or pissed off!).

Somehow, and somewhat unbelievably, the day has passed without dragging it's cumbersome feet in the mud too much which means I only have one hour and twenty minutes to get through before I can go home...

...Then one more day and it's the weekend again! If every week was a two day week I think I could actually handle this 'working' malarky!