In work early. Open locker. A tin of ground coffee falls out, showering the carpet outside the office. I call the cleaners to get it cleared up. They email me a reference number. As I am going to be working in studios in the morning, I forward the email to the first three people who are likely to find the coffee. They all congratulate me on the wonderful aroma of freshly-spilt coffee grounds. One asks me if I can do the aroma of freshly baked bread tomorrow. I say don’t worry, soon the aroma will be replaced by that of aerosol deodorant from one of our colleagues who thinks that her locker, rather than being in a corridor, is actually in a locker room.
Then a friend tells me some very, very bad news about his wife.
There is some other crap of a work-related nature. And it is still 29 degrees celsius in our office.
On the way home I try to take a faulty Nintendo DS game back to HMV. They refuse to give me my money back. At the exit a man – it’s not me, but it could be me soon – is being told by security that they “never, ever want to see your face in this area ever again.”
At home I cannot get the car off the driveway – I have to shift huge rubber blocks designed to stop people parking on the corner.
I have to visit the after school club and a relative’s house to collect children. Road closed, policeman waves me away. I park a block away from my destination and set off on foot. Normally busy main road closed and oddly quiet – in the middle there is a smashed up motorbike and a pair of sunglasses that clearly belong(ed) to a very small girl. Nice policewoman allows me across the crime scene tape several times to do my errands as the accident scene is right between the two places I need to visit and my sister-in-law’s house is right by the crash scene in the inner cordon.
Go to collect daughter. Reach in pocket and discover I have lost an envelope containing a large amount of cash. Want to cry, want to scream. Swear loudly. Retrace steps with children in tow. No luck. Go back to scene of accident. Speak to policewoman – hello, you again. Yes me again. I need to look for an envelope… The one we picked up in the middle of the road? Yes that one.
I could have kissed her.
When I got home I took consolation from the fact that at least in this heat it is – a rare thing in England – legitimately warm enough to drink pastis.
