Went to see them in Harrogate this weekend. Was fun. Meredith managed to say “Katie” and “Dan”. Took 7.5 hours to get there and 5.5 hours to get back. Woudn’t mind living in Harrogate. It’s nice. It’s better than the south east of England, anyway. Very, very bored.
Beyond belief. Went to the gym. Found a copy of I Can Help on the way back for £3.99, which is good. Going to have to work tonight to get everything done before setting up for the Career Fair tomorrow. I’m too bored to write this, I’m afraid.
Rome’s the worst place to be bored so far. Everyone looks suicidal after dark. Half a litre of Coke and a piccante donner’s done nothing to lift the spirits, oddly, and neither has the sight of gloomy men staring through empty windows or cursing me for not giving them a fucking euro for the fifth time of asking. Earlier, I forgot where I’d been yesterday and what I’d been doing; lost names, conversations, even beds. Felt like gouching on the train. Hotel is round the corner from the hotel I actually paid to stay at, because is new, is just opened, and room is new for you. Just holes behind a door, an opportunity to Ikea some used to be quaint hovel with an arty toilet and a frontless shower. There’s a Botticelli book in the hall, no internet, nothing in English on my television apart from an educational 50s montage about Idaho and no breakfast, unless they’ve got a magic basement. My porn’s old, I’ve no films and so many people smoke here it’s impossible not to want to. Italian TV is a new low stilettos and 180 kmph to Orio al Serio airport at 4am fucking prego grazie a stazione fucking scaldo. Sher’s a legend meeting went on so long I thought I was going to fucking cry and they have no intention I know that so why do they fucking bother Milan lost I could hear him groaning behind the fucking door hahaha. Hate. Meredith screaming on the phone called about 10 times today so bored but Umbria mountains lovely and hot maybe we should live there learn Italian si Termini full of fucking beggars and ice cream and never got ticket checked no air conditioning just like the Americans only I can make hahaha Ospedale San Matteo Pavia is different here you want marketing you go through media centre and in other place call Mafia here call business short coffee then you Italian. I had a coffee so strong I retched earlier tiramisu and some fruit shit ham cheese shit bread for four euros but is nice place to live would cost double in Milan he no longer in games he old it’s up to you but I would not bother want a fee I would be interested in the consultancy the worst thing you can do is hire a person in Italy they never let you get rid of them extreme high quality product but they not work for free we shake your hand he shake your hand we say fifty for fifty and we work for free but they not work for free. At the moment is why not Chuck Norris dubbed in Italian is pretty much the end of the line.
Fiona is a beautiful woman.
It comes to something when you’re too bored to be angry. I can get by in Germany and France, but I can’t even count to ten in Spanish, so doing anything here’s a trial. Learning to count to ten might be a start. I now know that five is cinco and four is cuatro. Last night’s dinner is still on the floor by the door. Luckily “hamburger” appears to be the same in Spanish and English, or I’d be dead by now, although yesterday’s lunch would have probably seen me through for about a week, so that’s a lie. Done work, chatted on the internet, looked at lenses; just want to go home. Fiona asked me why I don’t read if I’m bored. I’m too bored to read. From what I’ve seen of it, A Coruña seems nice. Octopus is the way to go, clearly. Markus got back to me about my arm, but I still haven’t seen any work. I’m sure he’ll get there in the end. Going to have a bored wash and eat some cakes. Spaniards love cakes, it seems.
On the runway waiting to fly from Madrid to A Coruña. Kids fucking behind me, thudding and grunting. Turned to see a middle-aged couple, or at least the top of the man’s bald head in the middle seat, pressing the woman into the window to prevent her knocking herself out. Their part of the plane shook. Manicured Spaniard across from me stared over her creaseless novel, red lips in an O, toes curling in her sandals. Silly woman. The fit picked up, so I could hear her limbs snapping to and fro and his weight press her harder, barking against the Perspex. I turned to offer help and saw his blanched face full of weary horror when he looked me in the eye. OK, I said, pointing at the attendants. No, he said in Spanish. More people turned as the seats filled. Vibrations as she kicked against the seats and his legs shifted to envelope her. She peaked, moaned, hid in the man, slid down the backside of her climax and some minutes later I stood to let a girl take the window seat of my row, glancing back to see a tiny woman, face soaked with exertion, eyes closed and sunken, his fingers on the back of her neck, his bear paw stroking her sun-sanded forearm, his mouth at her ear whispering encouragement and love as she wrung her lungs of phlegm. I needn’t have felt guilt at curiosity: for them there was no one else on the plane.
I watched Fiona walk Meredith along last night for the first time in a videocall from my hotel room in Madrid. Fiona held her hands and she walked towards her laptop. I clapped and cheered. Meredith had been sick yesterday, but she laughed and punched her hands in the air.
“It’s amazing that you can see that,” Fiona said.
“I should have been there,” I said.
Feeling better. Spent good time with Fiona and Meredith recently. Sorely needed. Been in Northumberland for the last three days seeing Liz, David and Helen. Meredith a delight. Visited Eileen on the way back. She’s very thin and deafer. Drove 820 miles in three days. Car’s fine, so fuck buying a new one. Spending all of next week in Europe. Need to get Simon and Julia’s wedding photos ready during the trip and sent back to Fiona for printing. Seeing them on Sunday, the day after I get back. Will be in Milan and Rome the following week. Need to book that. Markus still hasn’t replied. Dutch cunt.
I thought there wasn’t much worse than a busy British airport. Unfortunately, a busy British airport in the summer is the definition of pain. Swathes of highlighted scum brandishing babies and brutally crisp passports. Armies of balding thugs with syrup-sucking infants. Sallow-faced mothers wrestling with rickety pushchairs. Even queuing for a coffee is a lesson in savage banality.
“I don’t want anything to eat.”
“Have a kwasont.”
“No, mum, no. I don’t want one, I don’t think.”
“What do you want, then?”
“A coffee.”
“Shall I find a seat, mum?”
“Yes, OK.”
“OK.”
“Wait, come back, Georgie.”
“She’s gone now.”
“Georgie.”
“She won’t come back. See, she’s gone.”
“Georgie.”
“They’ve got apple kwasonts, you know. Look.”
“Georgie.”
“What about a Danish?”
“I don’t want anything to eat, mum. I just want a coffee.”
“I need to eat.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. I think I’ll have a kwasont.”
“Georgie.”
“I found a table, mum.”
“That man’s got it now.”
“I feel a little faint. I need to eat.”
“Actually, I might have a Danish.”
Fucking cunts. If they didn’t have wireless in airports I’d go mad. Compounding the agony, the sweaty fucking hell-hole is full of Liverpool supporters going to Milan for some fucking football final. I’d gladly pay with my life to call in a nuclear strike on my location. I should have a kwasont and calm down.
Haven’t updated for a while, which is rubbish. Sent my book to another agent last week while we were on holiday on the Isle of Wight, so fingers crossed. Got into a good routine with the second one now. It’s coming along.
Last week was great. Did very little. Got promoted at work, so it’s good to get stuck in with a clear head. Meredith very well. She can say, “cat”. Fifi lovely. Nothing to complain about.
Just tried to log into EVE and was told the “EVE cluster” was at its maximum limit and was put in a queue. Of two. Bizarre.
Back from California. Absolutely fucked. Just spent three hours in bed pissing sweat and semi-sleeping. Going to the Isle of Wight tomorrow. Had a very good GDC. Looking forward to not feeling as though I’m about to vomit all the time, however.
