January the 11th, 2012

My job type job nowadays (what I actually do nine to five, when I try to hold my mind from going elsewhere) sees me head into The City to work in a support service for lawyers. I’m not really going to say more than that, not because I’m coy or desperate to preserve the anonymity of my ‘career’, but simply because what I do is really, really dull. It’s something I guess has to happen to allow corporate lawyers to do their jobs properly (although there will be some who argue that we really shouldn’t be trying to help them doing their jobs properly) but it’s not something that interests or intrigues me in anyway. My work place these days is just a bunch of dull, earnest people in suits who sit at their computers working ceaselessly for their less than epic pay-cheque. There is little chat, virtually no banter and when the notion of fun does rear its nervous head it is beaten down by the strict supervisors who tell us – well, in the words of the strictest (and most particularly Mancunian) one – “That’s one for the pub, fellers. That’s one for the pub.” (Yeah right, like we go to the pub together). If I’m honest, I never really engage in any of the rare chat or banter anyway, as after three hours of silence with my eyes down I seem to lose the ability to speak to my fellow man. None of them are my friends, and when they do speak to me – well, there’s only so many ways one can acknowledge the fact that one looks tired. Perhaps they all think I’m partying every night.

Still no word from Alison, perhaps we’ve broken up.