The latest wacky day

A day to beat all crazy days.

There is no denying that my life is mixed up, and that most of this is my fault either through action or inaction to some degree or other.

But if, even just a few months back, anyone would have told me what today would entail I would have been silently signalling for the men in white coats to come and take them away.

Today started off with me putting a few last minute adjustments to assisting my friend with his overdue tax refund.

Then I took a trip to work, via the wrong train station and bought my ticket, whilst waiting in line for a blue eyes and grey haired silver tongued devil to get his ticket and flirt outrageously with his much younger and prettier assistant at the same time.

The once I got to work I had go into a meeting with my pension adviser who informed me that unless I invest over £400K in the next 35 years I cannot retire early on anything less than a measly £12K per year annuity. He also suggested that if I didn't have kids now I would never be able to afford early retirement.

Then I processed an automated cheque run at work for people who wont sign any cheque in less than 36 hours notice unless its made out to them personally ( and if i try to hide their cheque at the bottom of a pile they will take the time out to look for it instead of just sign the entire stack !).

After that I took out my pretty young Colombian receptionist for perhaps the last time while we work together, as she is being made Redundant on Friday, and tried to arrange with her if I could go and visit her family while I am in her home country next week.

Followed by a few hours of mind numbing boredom in the office cellar dead archiving old files that are not even that old and thus cant be send off for at least the next 8 months.

After work I took a tube to meet me brother in law at a tube stop that neither of us had ever been to before, and its here where my day started to get really interesting.

We stopped off at a pub for a swift drink while he explained that he was in yet another deeply back funk and I reminded him that is he was going to even attempt to pass any blame at my sister or their three children that he should just jolly well stop right there.

Moving swiftly on we then set about making semi-funny comments about sharing a drink in a back alley London pub opposite a defunct horse hospital whilst waiting for an amateur film festival from a group calling themselves the Blow Back and Rainfall. As you can image there were a few slurred references to "London blow job and golder shower animal farm porno movies" that on reflection are best left to the imagination of the individual reader.

The next few hours were spent waiting patiently in an ever filling miniature renovated film stage whilst the organisers painfully and repeatedly tried to get a projector image of size X onto a blank canvass backdrop of only size Y, where X would only ever be smaller than Y if you reduced the image down to the size of a postage stamp.

The perk of this place was that once a month you get to watch a few amateur film clips in a cosy, if still bizarrely located and still horse smelling ( is it every possible to fully eradicate the smell of horse manure from a stable ? ) moviedrome arena whilst supping a few of the free Cobra Beer's that were being chilled and given out as further inducement to turn up.

The sketch that was a revere remake of part of Bruce Lee's film the Game of Death, was a contender for best short film, as was an almost silent film about a fish not called Wanda trying to escape in a very much Nemo fashion whilst the owner gave mouth to mouth resuscitation to his suicidal wife.

But hands and feet above the rest was a comical semi-true-life video diary of a couple of guys in a mini trying to drive to Mongolia and the mishap that befall them, including the several ditches and the vodka swilling mechanics who could sing and dance but not fix vehicles.

Also on offer was a bizarre Spanish teen romance slasher comedy type thing, a couple of ones about London's stone men statues, a tattoo removal kit and a few more than don't even stick in the mind even this soon after the fact.

On our way home, we stop off at Victoria station, after scaring the late night commuters with our brothers-in-law-drunken-arty-bollocks style of rambling conversation and the occasional sub-game of "spot the hooker or is she just desperate for a shag tonight".

Sadly, or perhaps not, today we had no takers and almost all of the women were wearing clothing that was suitable for the weather outside and not even the slightest glimpse of any fish-net stocks and mini skirt wearing tarts with more jewellery, make up and perfume than 5 normal women could possible wear at one time.

At Victoria we managed to order a couple of burgers from the delightful Russian beauty behind the bar, but I failed to get her attention long enough to even read her name tag let alone obtain a smile or laugh from her.

What I did manage to do was pass on my credit card details to a friend who was then booking up our group holiday to Rome, and not to mention hear a slightly panicked mother on my voicemail who was hoping that I was going on holiday to anywhere except Colombia.

I have to wonder about myself when I think back and know that my loving mother would honestly prefer me to get drunk and laze on a beach ogling the local girls than travelling to the places where I chose to visit on my time off !?!

Having parted with my bro-in-law at Victoria I then have long train journey home where a couple of university professors debate the highbrow and deep intellectual issues such as "if money is removed would not bartering take its place also identically".

Names such as Aristotle, Karl Marx, Hitler to name but three cropped up, but once they started on about Buddhism then I knew that I was too drunk to remain quiet any longer and calmly stood up and walked down the carriage away from them both.

Coming back home I then had the wonders of finishing off the last of my very own creation ... ginger biscuit cheesecake ( a damn good combo if I may say so myself ), taking out the garbage, explaining to a Brazilian friend that, 'No I don't speak any Portuguese' and 'No Spanish isn't the same at all" before reading a few joke emails and remembering the true story ( apparently ) that today George Bush had his $20K watch stolen while shaking hands with the Albanian President !!!

After that it was just a refresher msn conversation with my friend in Colombia, a bit of idle web browsing and signing off and completing my remortgage papers before bed. All in all a very full, varied and totally unique day to be honest.

Day's like today don't happen to many people. and having lived through this one today, that probably isn't a bad thing.