Having turned down the offer of a lift to work, on the grounds that the same person finished work earlier than me so couldn't give me a lift back home, I set off for the station. Chilled out, I was on time for once and though it made my rucksack heavy, I'd even remembered my credit crunch-worthy survival kit: water, fancy refillable coffee mug, nibbles, notebooks and numerous passes - be they for the underground or the office security swipe.
Once at the station and parked up, feeling smug with my newfound punctuality, I even had time to nip to the loo, (I have an aversion to the smelly, 'we know what you're doing' loos on the train!) before the train pulled in. But that's when things started to go wrong.
I had a great seat and was reading my book - The Night Train to Lisbon, which is tough going so requires a good seat and a certain level of concentration - when that VOICE FROM NOWHERE said the train had been cancelled. We'd only got as far as the next stop.
Off we pootled and I followed someone in front of me, blindly, having overheard him ask for directions to the nearest London train. Shuffling on to platform 2, we boarded the cramped train and heard there had been a major security alert at Queenstown Station, just outside Waterloo, so no trains were going into London. I later discovered that someone had abandoned a car underneath a bridge beneath the railway line there. I'd quite like a chat with that person!
Anyway, I phoned the office and explained that I'd be late. Why oh why did the same editor answer the phone today as the last time I was late? I'm not late for any of the others! I wanted to brandish a print-off from the Telegraph website and show that I wasn't making it up, I wasn't inventing an excuse for being late (like I have admittedly, once or twice in my youth), it was genuinely out of my control.
But it got worse. This bit was in my control. I had either forgotten to pick up the outward part of my train ticket from the machine or had put it on display instead of my parking ticket - which I had in my hand! So not only was my car going to get clamped, but I would have to fork out for a second return ticket too. I phoned Rail customer services and begged first one and then another anonymous voice at the end of the phone to contact the station and tell them I had a parking ticket, look here's my voucher number, please don't clamp my car. Thankfully, the second person I spoke to was sympathetic. I'd quite like to have a different sort of chat with him too - I was so grateful I could have proposed! But it was fear of my already-betrothed that was the driving force behind my thankfulness. If he found out I'd been clamped he would have reminded me of my carelessness for months!
Finally arriving at the office, there was nowhere to sit. With one-too-many people on the rota, and me being last in, I had to sit away from the normal 'cluster.' At least that meant I couldn't pick up the communal, incessantly ringing phone, but nor could I receive calls I needed. Then, I had to swallow my pride and negotiate all-eyes-on-me (which I detest) as I entered the morning planning meeting... late. Mercifully, I gritted my teeth and it passed without event. Things are never as bad as you envisage, I'm starting to learn.
I was asked to set up a discussion between two people on an issue and it just wasn't coming together, so, there was a late change of plan. I got the two guests sorted, after a flash of inspiration, and even had time for a cup of tea with the colleague who had offered me a lift. But after I'd googled all the websites I like and answered all my personal emails, scoffed some sushi and phoned home, suddenly I had to scrabble around again. The guest I'd booked had to be cancelled in favour of someone else and the beautiful brief I had prepared for the presenters, re-beautified.
It was a relief to get home, even if I almost ran over a fox and almost stepped on the world's biggest slug, on my doorstep, when I finally arrived back, in my not-clamped or towed away car. Phew! Next week, to drive or let the train take the strain? I'll have to re-read these two last posts before I decide! But, so far, it amuses me that the tribulations of getting to work are taking far more toll on me than the actual work itself.
Off we pootled and I followed someone in front of me, blindly, having overheard him ask for directions to the nearest London train. Shuffling on to platform 2, we boarded the cramped train and heard there had been a major security alert at Queenstown Station, just outside Waterloo, so no trains were going into London. I later discovered that someone had abandoned a car underneath a bridge beneath the railway line there. I'd quite like a chat with that person!
Anyway, I phoned the office and explained that I'd be late. Why oh why did the same editor answer the phone today as the last time I was late? I'm not late for any of the others! I wanted to brandish a print-off from the Telegraph website and show that I wasn't making it up, I wasn't inventing an excuse for being late (like I have admittedly, once or twice in my youth), it was genuinely out of my control.
But it got worse. This bit was in my control. I had either forgotten to pick up the outward part of my train ticket from the machine or had put it on display instead of my parking ticket - which I had in my hand! So not only was my car going to get clamped, but I would have to fork out for a second return ticket too. I phoned Rail customer services and begged first one and then another anonymous voice at the end of the phone to contact the station and tell them I had a parking ticket, look here's my voucher number, please don't clamp my car. Thankfully, the second person I spoke to was sympathetic. I'd quite like to have a different sort of chat with him too - I was so grateful I could have proposed! But it was fear of my already-betrothed that was the driving force behind my thankfulness. If he found out I'd been clamped he would have reminded me of my carelessness for months!
Finally arriving at the office, there was nowhere to sit. With one-too-many people on the rota, and me being last in, I had to sit away from the normal 'cluster.' At least that meant I couldn't pick up the communal, incessantly ringing phone, but nor could I receive calls I needed. Then, I had to swallow my pride and negotiate all-eyes-on-me (which I detest) as I entered the morning planning meeting... late. Mercifully, I gritted my teeth and it passed without event. Things are never as bad as you envisage, I'm starting to learn.
I was asked to set up a discussion between two people on an issue and it just wasn't coming together, so, there was a late change of plan. I got the two guests sorted, after a flash of inspiration, and even had time for a cup of tea with the colleague who had offered me a lift. But after I'd googled all the websites I like and answered all my personal emails, scoffed some sushi and phoned home, suddenly I had to scrabble around again. The guest I'd booked had to be cancelled in favour of someone else and the beautiful brief I had prepared for the presenters, re-beautified.
It was a relief to get home, even if I almost ran over a fox and almost stepped on the world's biggest slug, on my doorstep, when I finally arrived back, in my not-clamped or towed away car. Phew! Next week, to drive or let the train take the strain? I'll have to re-read these two last posts before I decide! But, so far, it amuses me that the tribulations of getting to work are taking far more toll on me than the actual work itself.
