Tim

Friday, July 13, 2007

6.59am - I’m in the middle of a bizarre, but enjoyable dream where I’m disco dancing with Romilly Weeks from the ITV news, in Bentinck Miner’s Welfare. We’re the only people on the dancefloor, which is covered in talcum powder. The room is full of people smoking, drinking pints and clapping in time to the music – There’s a Ghost in My House by R. Dean Taylor, if I remember correctly. I’m looking good and Romiley’s not too bad either. Suddenly and unfortunately, I’m woken by my alarm at 7 o’clock and I never find out whether Romilly fancies a game of bingo or some pie and peas afterwards.

"...I never find out whether Romilly fancies a game of bingo or some pie and peas afterwards."

I have to start to make executive decisions from the moment I wake. Do I get up now, or have another 10 minutes? I get up. Do I have a shave, or stick with the dishevelled look? I shave. I’ve got more hair on my face than my head. I’m starting to look like Michael Eavis, and I don’t want that to happen, even though I’m sure he’s a lovely man.

7.15 - I think I’ll wear my new grey slacks with my lilac V-neck jumper today. Those grey and lilac striped socks will co-ordinate perfectly, I reckon. Kelli will be impressed. That’s the third decision I’ve made in 15 minutes. Not bad for quarter past seven. I’ll have to pace myself.

7.30 – Time for breakfast – first mini-meal: muesli, smoothie, probiotic yogurt and tea. No sugar though – it’s lent. Aren’t I healthy?

7.50 - I sort my bag out. Sports kit – check. Socks – check. Trainers – check. Towel – check. Sarnies – check. I’m all set.

7.55 – The motor in the driver’s door of my Rover Kensington (that’s the posh name for a Metro) has locked. I open the passenger door, clamber precariously over the gear stick (avoiding banging my knee on the crook-lok) and get ready to go.

"...wearing a red suit and shouting 'Gadanga'?"

Beanie hat on, gloves on, radio in position and tuned to Wake Up With Wogan. I set off, listening to Terry’s inane ramblings - occasionally flicking to Radio 1 whenever Wogan plays something twee or folky. Chris Moyles is equally nonsensical. The morning’s news is about Comic Relief and Global Warming. I ask myself which is worse: the Polar Ice Caps melting and our imminent doom, or the prospect of Lenny Henry on prime time telly all Friday night wearing a red suit and shouting “Gadanga”? Lenny wins comfortably.

8.25 – Entering Nottingham on the A610, I notice a loud, humming noise, like a Fokker taking off, beneath some jingly-jangly indie music. Is it me (as Terry might say) or is it the bus cruising alongside? Probably the bus, I recklessly conclude.

8.30 – The noise continues, so I turn the radio down and have a good listen to the engine. It’s me and the heater gauge is rapidly moving towards the red zone. I’m already boiling from the car heater and numerous insulating layers about my person. From my limited understanding of car mechanics, it’s a good idea to turn your car heater on full to extract the heat from the engine into the car. I turn the heater to full, whip off my hat and gloves, and wind the window down – much to the consternation of the BMW driver alongside me.

8.31 – The heater starts to cool a little. I think I’ll get to work without breaking down.

8.32 – I get cut up by a man in a people carrier on Alfreton Road. He suddenly appears from the bus lane behind me. When I was learning to drive, my instructor used to ask whether we were on a mystery tour when I didn’t use the indicators. Perhaps he’s on a mystery tour. It looks like it.

"I might as well be looking at a Polish grammar book..."

8.45 – I arrive at work and look under the bonnet. I feel I have to - I’m male. I might as well be looking at a Polish grammar book – it means nothing to me. All the wires and metal seem to be in the same place. Nothing’s leaking or steaming vigorously. I decide to let it cool down and speak to a man.

8.48 – I get into the office and turn my PC on. Martin, Neil and Suzy are already in.

8.50 – Neil and I convene in the kitchen to chew the cud and make some tea.

9.00 – Everyone is here, so I start the day by deciding what I need to do. Today, I’m going to write a proposal for our website’s rebuild, start writing this article and working up our new “d’yer do yer marketin’ yersen” campaign. Have a look for yourself – it’s on the website.

10.30 – Time for my second mini-meal of the day. It’s fruit salad, with cantaloupe melon, kiwi and grapes. I ask Mark about cars. He seems to know what he’s talking about. All that fruit hits the spot, so I go outside to have a quick look at my radiator. It’s empty so I fill it up with water and decide to check again later.

10.40 -Tea round 2, with my third mini-meal: a Soreen Go Bar and two fig rolls – very nice.

10.45 – Catch up with Wednesday’s Evening Post to see what’s happening in Nottingham. It’s not as bad as the national media make out.

11.00 – I identify a few potential business leads for our new business campaign. I will contact them shortly.

11.30 – By chance, I come across a database of my predecessor’s (Steph) business leads on the server. These can be added to my direct mail database for our next email. Good stuff – that’ll save me some work.

12.21 – My cursor stops moving. This has happened a few times since Carol bought me a new, remote mouse, keyboard and printer. The batteries have run out of power. It’s a bit of a pain. I replace them and recharge the originals.

12.45 – Lunchtime – fourth mini-meal of the day. Tuna mayo cobs (that’s rolls, or baps to those who don’t know).

"It’s WD40 time, which seems to do the trick."

12.55 – I check the car again for leaks. The radiator’s still full and there’s no puddle of water under the car. Great news. However, the car boot won’t shut -the catch is jammed. It’s WD40 time, which seems to do the trick.

12.58 – A member of Hare Krishna tries to shake my hand before selling me a couple of books that I don’t want.

Slab Square’s almost finished – not before time. And a workman is hosing a bench with a high-pressure jet hose.

Quick call in to the Tourist Information Office for maps showing footpaths and cycle paths around Nottingham. This is part of my get fit regime – I’ll be able to do some running.

A Chugger (charity mugger – usually young adults acting in an overtly and suspiciously friendly manner for no apparent reason – until you find out they’re after your money) tries to engage me in conversation by flitting her eyelids and smiling coyly. She looked deflated when I explained that I was on a mission.

I call in Wilko for my allergy tablets (dust-mites) they’re a third of the price of Boots and Superdrug. What would we do without Wilko? That’s probably a good tagline for their marketing campaign – I’d better keep that quiet.

"I smiled gormlessly back and almost fell into the canal"

On the way back, I walk along the canal towpath and spot a gorgeous girl walking towards me. Now normally, girls fix their gaze on a point in the distance and refuse to move it (like a dog holding a bone – they’re so determined not to make eye-contact), or they look away at the last minute to avoid unnecessary, unwanted communication. This one was different. She looked straight into my eyes confidently and said “oh hello” in a friendly and seductive manner. I smiled gormlessly back and almost fell into the canal, such was my surprise. I checked she was talking to me. She was. There was nobody else around. Maybe it’s because spring is coming, it’s warm and the flowers are blooming. Who was she? Either she thought she knew me, thought I was someone else or found me extraordinarily desirable. Or maybe she was mad. Yes, maybe that’s it.

1.45 – Collect today’s Evening Post from the paper shop.

1.50 – Back in the office. Catch up with all the latest developments from around Nottingham.

2.10 – I identify more new business leads and update our database.

3.30 – Mini-meal 5 – a banana, to give me energy and an apple, to keep the Doctor at bay.

3.45 – Tea round 3. Does anyone else know how to make tea here?

5.30 – Finish. I should at this point mention that in between these various incidents, I was writing copy or performing other work-related tasks.

5.35 – Walk round the corner to the gym. We’ve no excuse not to go, working only 100 yards away. Before I start, my legs are stiff, my stomach’s tight, I’ve got Achilles tendonitis and feel pooped. Gyms are really good for you apparently.

6.45 – Shower.

7.00 – Leave Nottingham for the sticks.

7.15 – The car overheats, before cooling down and increasing again - very weird. I decide to go through Moor Green rather than using the M1 - just in case. With the cars I’ve owned in the past, I’ve broken down half way between junctions many times before and it isn’t much fun.

7.45 – Mini-meal 6. I get home to prepare some Sainsbury’s fresh pasta and some tomato and chilli sauce. Lovely.

8.30 – Settle down to watch the Queen on DVD. Helen Mirren is good, but the rest was a bit schmaltzy. I don’t know what all the fuss is about.

"Go to bed with Kelly Holmes."

10.15 – Go to bed with Kelly Holmes. Well, her autobiography at least – Black, White and Gold. It’s not been a bad day – I woke up with Romiley Weekes and go to bed with Kelly Holmes. How many people can say they’ve done that?