One Day Too Soon

Felt oddly detached at work yesterday; the holiday mode always seems to kick in one day early doesn't it? And you end up resenting those wasted hours at work when you could be prematurely extending your holiday even further. But then if you did that the day before would become your resented pre-holiday day, so you'd want that off as well, and so on and so on until you arrive back to the day you were born. Then of course you'd have no money to take the holiday in the first place. Plus you'd be a new-born, which would limit your choice of destinations somewhat. But then again you might get cheap flights.

Peter Handyman came to me about eleven and told me to make sure everything was in order with my current tasks before I left. This took about half an hour. So I decided (as I was in a holiday mood) for once I would (as I decided about a month ago) join the lunchtime pilgrimage to the pub. I popped over to see Andy and asked if "they" were going to the pub (they were) and if it was okay if I joined them (it was) and would you like me to drive there and take a couple of people (it was).

There were eleven of us in the end. The weather was not quite good enough to sit outside but we being men we braved it with our beers. Drinking at lunch is usually fatal to me (as even one pint releases several measures of sleep-inducing hormone into my brain leaving me to struggle through the afternoon in a semi-comatose stupor) but as I'd slipped into my holiday togs already I didn't think it would matter. So I had a pint of John Smiths.

Eleven blokes together with one common theme (work) yapped for an hour and a half about the one thing that eleven blokes together with one common theme (work) would inevitably talk about. Work. I said eleven blokes but really it was ten as I didn't join in too often; mainly because the talking about work simply seemed to be about slagging off other departments and individuals. I don't tend to join in with this sort of thing - not because I'm an excessively nice guy (although like - I think - most people I tend to think I'm a decent enough chap), I just don't really pay that much attention to anything outside the scope of my immediate work. I certainly don't play ego games. So I just sipped my beer and listened to what A had said about B and what C had said D had said about E and that F fancied G whilst H has allegedly slept with I, J and K (I didn't know if this meant all at the same time). They never got to Z, which I think would have been me.

One thing I did notice, though: When anyone 'accidentally' (as that was the impression I got) mentioned Peter Handyman the conversation track swiftly changed and some furtive glances were thrown in my direction. Odd. I hope I'm not viewed as the boss's pet. Or the boss's snitch. I do seem to have the least amount of Handyman flak since he took over from Alan (just one snarling argument now well over a month ago). I hope he's not playing me for an idiot.

The only other subject I managed to join in with was a brief chat about football and even then I struggled, as nothing more than a lapsed Aston Villa fan. And I was found out when someone told me that Emile Heskey was doing well, and I had no understanding of how this related to me, as I had no idea Emile Heskey (who last I know was at Liverpool) now played for the Villa. A lot of the guys found this quite funny for some reason (I just played along).

I crept out of work a few minutes early. Well, half an hour early in fact. My premature voluntary ejection went (I think) completely unnoticed. It helped that Peter Handyman seemed to have disappeared around lunchtime. I'd contributed absolutely nothing to my company since I'd come back from the pub anyhow. I'd really pushed my luck by allowing myself an extra half pint before coming back to work, and spent the remaining time snapping matchsticks with my eyelids. So as I wasn't much use, I thought it okay to go.

Came home in reasonably chipper spirits to commence my holiday to ... a completely empty house! Lukas had left me a very terse note telling me he was at Dannys and was likely to sleepover. Gabe was nowhere to be seen but of course there'd be nowhere other then Lians. No idea about Andrew. No idea about Colin. My only company was Ripley so, as my Lent alcohol ban seems to have been dismissed (is Lent over anyway? I must check when I get the chance) I settled down with another beer and a purring pussy and TV.

Next thing I remember is snapping awake at eight. An amused Gabriel was standing over me, shaking me back from slumberland. He said he would have left me but my snoring was in danger of rupturing the house's foundations.

I shook myself awake then remembered I was suppose to ring Sarah tonight, which I did so, as I wasn't really in the mood for polite conversation. Fortunately, neither was she. She was very sharp with me - surprisingly and oddly upsettingly so. I put down the phone after a very brief ten minute chat, very slightly confused. And slightly rejected.

So much for holidays then. Perhaps tomorrow will bring me better tidings.