Quavers and Cous Cous

I’ve just made a cup of tea at my desk, and I put the sugar in and I’m fully aware that there are unidentified brown bits in the bag of sugar at work, and I’ve just sort of accepted that the brown bits just come mixed in as part of the sugar now, and willingly stirred some into my tea, and I’m not even trying to fish the brown bits out with a teaspoon, and so now I’m sitting here sipping tea that may or may not have rat poo in it.

Also in a bid to leave my work, I’ve found that I get to leave for an uncapped amount of time if I say we need milk, because we all need milk in this building. I say “we need milk, I’ll go and get some from Morrissons” and they say, yes we do need milk. Now: the secret. They are not monitoring the milk. I say, we need milk, doing a little internal wink at myself because I know full well that half of that milk is in the sink. God, I feel alive with evil.

I need a job. I need a job because I need money. I need money so I can move out. I need to move out because right now I’m not becoming anyone.

“It’s like, I know there’s like a light at the end of the tunnel, but there aren’t any train tracks down yet to move, and I’m the train and I don’t know where I’m meant to go, because the light is happiness- do you get me?”

“It’s shit?” – Joanne

And I’ve been having some proper weird stuff happen to me in Sutton in the past two weeks. Here are some.

-I fell in the street. Right down, all the way. I fell straight onto my chin and teeth. When you fall, everybody looks at you with this sort of accusingly embarrassed expression, like you’ve given away a massive secret that we all harbour as a humanity. Why didn’t my arms come out to break my fall? I’ve been thinking about this, and the most logical conclusion I can come to is this: they belong to me.

 

-I saw my dad. I saw my own dad, the one who’s sperm grew into a me, on the high street. I haven’t seen him in four years. Here’s the scene:

I headed out from the theatre and out onto the high street. I’d been thinking about getting a Subway all day. As a veggie (have I told you I’m a veggie yet? I’m so great) I go up to the counter and say:

“Can I have a hearty Italian?”

Then they ask me what I want in it and I get to say:

“Just cheese from this section, actually” Because I can’t have meat in it. Because I’m a vegetarian.

I got it toasted (obviously) and then added lettuce, onion, tomatoes, cucumber, black olives and sweetcorn, with no sauce. Yum, vegetables. They asked me if I want anything with it. Obviously I do, I’m definitely going to need some coke to wash down the human equivalent of toasted cat biscuits.  And a packet of Quavers.

I head on over to the fizzy drink machine and put my cup under it. It comes out like a furry brown sludge so I take it up to the man behind the counter and say I don’t think that’s what coke’s meant to look like, and he has a look and confirms my suspicions, telling me to go and get a bottled one out of the fridge- result!!!

So then I take a seat. Critical error because we all know that Subways are meant to be eaten on a bench in the middle of a desolate high street, whilst thinking about what Jessica Ennis put inside hers. Probably solid gold post boxes.

So yes, my seat. I sat in the window, which turns out is a rather conspicuous place to sit. I was one bite into my cat biscuits when a face appeared in the window.

He sort of stood there looking at me. It was very weird. He looked very old, like his skin was a bit melty. Then he raised his arms and did a sort of ironic shrug like ‘fancy seeing you here’. Yes, fancy that.

“I just had to come in” He said, coming in. I wasn’t sure what to do but I had opened my Quavers and that was sort of helping.

“Yeah- weird isn’t it?” I said.

“VERY weird.” He said.  “How is everyone?”

“We’re all fine.” I say.

“VERY weird.” He says again, over me. “Like a different life.”

“Haha yeah” I say. “I have to get back to work.” I carry on, making myself look all business-like by turning my chair a bit and sitting with my back completely straight, sternly eating a quaver.

“Course you do. See you later.” He says. Then he wells up and turns away to leave so I can’t see him cry.

#AWKWARD- Am I right??!!

 

I discovered I like cous-cous. It’s actually very tasty, and an easy on-the-go lunch if, like me, you’re bogged down in the hustle and bustle of minimum wage admin work. Okay, this isn’t strictly Sutton based, but it’s just a good tip. Specifically: The Ainsley Herriott stuff that was on offer in Morrissons for 50p.

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