Last Night's Dream

I had moved to London, but it looked more like Melbourne. I was living in some sort of large corner building, maybe a disused hotel. It had lots of rambling rooms. I lived at the top. My housemates weren't very social. They sat about in individual rooms wrapped up tight in sleeping bags. The rooms were dimly lit. Some of them were watching portable TVs. It reminded me of the old lady watching 'Words and Pictures' in 'Threads.' I had to pass them to get to my room. They barely acknowledged me.

There wasn't any cutlery or dishes in the house, but what upset me was the lack of glassware. So I hit upon an idea.

There was an old colourful kitchen cupboard, like the one in the picture above. I dragged it down the road, across the way from the bar. I encouraged people entering & leaving the bar to leave me their glassware. Soon I had loads of glasses, and quite a few jugs too - jugs full of some sort of cherry cocktail. I brought it back to the house. The cocktail didn't seem alcoholic. I gave some to my housemates.

Later, they opened a huge new branchline of the London Underground just for Charles, Camilla, the other members of the royal family & the Cabinet. This was in light of recent unpleasantness. I went down to have a look. There was an extra new tunnel and platform but no-one was allowed to use it, as it was reserved for the dignitaries. There was a lot of shouting and unpleasantness on the platform. It disturbed me to see commuters turning on each other, as I didn't understand who could support such a strange transport policy.

I didn't get on a train but went home. There was a lot of natural light spilling into the underground station from somewhere.

A new non-job

I got a job today...but only for today!

A woman rang me from an agency on Friday, gave me an address in an industrial estate. After some hunting I found the premises. A data processing company. They never told me what they do, but they appeared to be concerned with junk mail & spambots. Or something.

Anyway, they sat me down at a PC and gave me a huge pile of ballot papers relating to the nat west community fund.

See, all these coves and covesses and even junior coves had been filling in charity nomination forms for the 'Wye Retired Horse Relief' and 'Macclesfield Sea Scouts' and 'Snails for the Blind' etc etc etc. The winning charity gets £3000 from Nat West, see.

I had to go through hundreds of the bloody things ticking off their local Nat WEst branch and favourite charity on an internet browser. It was more corrupt than FIFA - the same handwriting appeared on dozens of ballot papers. They were all block votes for the same charities, too.

Anyway, at 4pm I asked the manager about arrangements for the rest of the week and she said 'Sorry, Nat West have cut the funding. We won't need you any more. And it's snowing so you can go at 4.30.'

Hmmph.

Ah well. The bloke working with me says they do that all the time. He was only there for the day too. But he assures me we'll be back.

He's a nice bloke but he smokes rollies two at a time. In this weather, he smelt like damp burnt socks.

There were loads of unfinished flyers. Who will complete them?

I quite enjoyed being at work. There were some nice ladies who smiled at me and even talked to me. I must apply myself to the high-rolling world of business.