Something Must Change

I have had enough.  And I am not talking about Brexit.

The Metropolitan line has become so bad that I’m getting home close to 8pm.  Today, I was on a tube stuck outside Harrow-On-The-Hill, awaiting a platform as both northbound platforms were occupied by other trains.  Neither of which apparently had a driver.  Fucking brilliant.

A good 15-20 minutes just stuck there, going nowhere, until the train finally moved, so I could then sit on the platform for a while and wait for my end destination train to arrive – which was stuck outside awaiting a platform.  Plus a bit of earlier slowness due to a signal failure.

At the moment, I am getting out of bed at 6:30am and getting home at 7:45pm, on average.

This is a long day.  I am tired.  I am drained.  I almost want to just say “fuck it” and quit my job.

Which would be stupid.  I actually really enjoy my job – the working part is great – I still pinch myself sometimes when I remember the shit I used to do for work.  I’m challenged every day, I am learning so much – I have great colleagues and an excellent manager.  I do get paid a relatively shit wage, and they do ask me to do things I hate like going to Luton – or go flyering – which is due to be timed for the next Beast From The East – like…fuck off.  But the work itself – it was my dream, and it is perfect.

I see what you are saying.  Why don’t I move house?

I currently live by myself.  I definitely will not get such a good deal elsewhere (Brexit?).  Is it worth the pain and the long days?  I’m not sure.

I actually had a look for rooms this morning, a bit closer to work – not hugely but enough to get me off the Metropolitan line, without using a sweatbox line either.  But all the half-decent rooms were at least £100 more than I pay now.  I need to reduce costs.  Not increase them.

Also playing into this is the ridiculous amount of weight that I’ve put on.  Almost every week I hit a new highest weight.  My belly has become ridiculous.  Sometimes people overtake me when I’m walking.  I almost waddle occasionally.  My ankles ache under the weight sometimes.  It isn’t far off 20kg that I’ve put on from just before I started this job.

Sometimes I look at fat people and imagine saying to them, “go on a fucking diet”.  Then I remember I’m fat.  Obese, actually.

It isn’t so easy though.  Last week I was refreshed after a week off, and managed to go 4 days of proper healthy eating.  I lost a little weight.  Then I drank on Friday night, ate too much food, and ended up consuming 5,000 calories (not an unusual amount for me when drinking).  Saturday I felt crap so needed comfort food.  Sunday too, though less.  Monday I went to Luton and we ate shit food for lunch – I got home late and just had junk food.  Tuesday I felt shit and ate loads.  And on…I should be able to reverse the pattern tomorrow – as I can relax and have a lay down if I feel tired – not having to shove something sugary down my throat just to give me some very temporary psychological benefit.

All being well, I will start next week being healthy – until something goes wrong.  I’m so mentally weak when it comes to controlling my eating at the moment.  The slightest thing – just waking up in the morning not having had enough sleep is enough to mean the whole of the rest of the week eating unhealthily.  One bad day and I cannot catch up with myself, as I’m working these long hours and getting home at silly times, and always being tired.

So I’ve had my moan.  I’ve set out what is wrong.  I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t have a plan to fix my problems.  I just haven’t quite decided on that plan yet.  And no it doesn’t fucking involve exercise – I DO NOT HAVE THE TIME OR ENERGY.

Right.

If I’m going to move house then I need more money.

There are only two ways of increasing my salary – a promotion or a new job.  I don’t want to do the latter.  But I’ve proven myself and there is still no promotion.  Maybe it will happen in the next few months.  Maybe it won’t.

Until I decide that, then there is no point in looking for somewhere else to live.  I could move house to somewhere more convenient for my current job, then still not get a promotion and get offered a job in west London – I’d then have another long commute.  As dumb and pointless as Brexit.  Actually nowhere near as dumb, but you get me.  Booyakasha.

I actually updated my CV last weekend.  Amazing what being told to go to Luton on a Monday, not long after learning of the upcoming flyering, can do.  I still don’t want to have to go ahead with it.  I’m nothing as a human being if I’m not loyal.  But maybe I should be more selfish.

It isn’t an easy decision to make.  But something has to change – such long days give less meaning to my existence.

Also in January my new detox starts.  90 days and 90 kg.

Which will be a minimum of 90 days without alcohol, but also reaching a minimum weight of 90kg.  I’m currently 103.5kg and this year I lost 6-7kg during my detox (put 13 back on) so extrapolating this could mean 6 months of no drinking.  Which as you can imagine, I don’t want.  The theory being that I subsequently put more effort in before my detox starts, so I’m not sat in a Spanish piazza in May drinking agua.

And if I put weight back on after my detox like I did this year, then I’m going to punish myself with vegan roast dinners.

Something has to change.  I have to change.  As much fun as I’ve had this year, as much as I really do enjoy my job – I cannot continue on this current path.

Therefore my main goal for next year, one that I hope to achieve in the first few months, is to gain back at least one hour a day of my life.

Time to take back control.

ps Apart from the above, it has been the best year for years.  I’m trying my hardest to be miserable right now, but failing.  I’m still happy.

Complaint – Brexit Costing Me Another £1 A Month – OFFICIAL!

I received an invoice last month from my hosting company for £5.99 instead of the usual £4.99.  Cue an e-mail:

Hello

I noticed that you are trying to charge me £5.99 for hosting this month, instead of the usual £4.99.

Please can you correct your invoice and ensure the correct amount of £4.99 is charged.

Kind regards
James

******

Hi James,

Thank you for contacting us on the matter and apologies for the delay in my reply.

I’m afraid the price of £5.99 is the correct amount of the hosting package as we have increased our hosting package’s prices by 20% and we have notified all of our customers about this change via email.

Since 2003 we have offered the same great service without any price adjustments. Over those 14 years we have absorbed the cost of inflation rather that passing the cost on to our customers.  Due to the effects of inflation and a weaker pound, our hosting is now cheaper in real terms than it ever has been. We need to make a one-off adjustment to address this so that we can keep offering the same excellent standards of service and continue investing in our infrastructure, improving reliability, performance and features.

Please let me know if you require any further assistance as we would be more than happy to help!

Best regards,

Technical Support.

******

Hi

So basically my hosting costs have gone up 20% due to Brexit?

Also I was not advised of the increased cost.

Regards

James

******

Hi James,

I have just double-checked and our system should have sent an email to you entitled ‘Important news about your hosting’ on the 08/12/2017.

I fully understand how troubling this can be for you, however, we promise to not let you down as your hosting provider!

Best regards,

Technical Support.

******

Hi

I’ve just done a search of my e-mails and cannot find it.  Anyway, I’m more annoyed that Brexit is yet again costing me money – I dread to think what you think of the UK over there in Hungary…then again your leader is hardly a saint!  I’m guessing Hungary from your name, apologies if I am wrong.

All the best

James

******

Hi James,

My apologies for the email being lost!

I fully understand how troubling this can be and how Brexit has caused you a loss in money. I’m afraid, I am not from Hungary, however, no worries!

I hope you have a fabulous weekend and please drop me a line if you require further assistance!

Best regards,

Technical Support.

*****************************

Proof that Brexit is costing me yet more money.

Lent 2017

Every year I give up something fundamental in my life as a sacrifice.

Last year I gave up high-5’s.  The year before I gave up trimming my eyebrows.

Other years I gave up important aspects of living such as French swear words, zebra crossings, semi-colons and paper clips.

If you know me, you know just how religiously I like to follow the nine commandments of the moon and giving something up for lent is my way of worshipping her.

So onto this year.

Well, I really want to give up recruitment consultants.  Sadly, until I get a job, I am going to have to live with them ringing me up trying to prize information out of me whilst having absolutely no intention of putting me forward for any role.

It is often difficult to think of something important enough to give up, sometimes it takes longer than lent itself to think of something, but this year was actually very easy.

I am giving up Brexit for lent (oh if only the government…STOP, James!).

Yes I am giving up Brexit for lent.

No more arguing about Brexit.  No more complaining about Brexit.  No more talking about Brexit.  No taking part in any discussions about Brexit.

To be clear, I am giving up any kind of discussion about Brexit.

I can still read about Brexit or listen/watch the latest news about Brexit, but I cannot make any comment about it whatsoever, positive, negative – any kind of statement, question, verbal or written, other than advise that I have given up Brexit for lent.

Wish me luck.

To celebrate my sacrifice, I am going to have pancakes this afternoon.  Yeah I know I was supposed to have them yesterday but I’m not everyone else.

I’ll live my life my way, thank you, not following the edicts of Sainsbury’s or whoever made it up.

Finally I’d just like to say, screw you Jesus.

The Day I Fell Out Of Love With My Country

One week ago today I fell out of love with my country.

I have always been a passionate Brit, but also a European.  Don’t worry, I’m not about to go over the arguments for and against the European Union!

I awoke at 3:45, my alarm had been set, and I switched on the internet to find Nigel Farage making some kind of victory speech.  Surely not?

When the referendum had been announced, in my head it was more of a case of how much the winning margin would be.  I wanted the referendum so that we could finally put a stop to the anti-EU nonsense from around one third of the Conservative MPs.  But with a few weeks to go, I started to be worried.  There were a couple of weeks when people were asking me how it was going to go, that I said leave would win.  Then in the final week, my confidence of a remain victory returned – on the final day, most polls were showing an 8-10% lead for remain – a couple with a small lead for leave.

To wake up to Nigel Fucking Farage, of all people, gloating and beaming about taking his country back, and taking control was anathema to everything I believed in.  Project Lies/Project Hate had beaten Project Fear.

My heart sank.

In fact, last Friday was the most unhappy I have felt in a long time.  At first I was miserable.  Shocked and miserable.  Then anger took over.  I was fuming to the point that I actually considered punching one of my gloating colleagues (who is still winding people up).  Even the next day I was furious.

What really got me was the rejection of the values that I believed in and I thought my country stood for:

  • Openness
  • Tolerance
  • Freedom
  • Internationalism
  • Liberalism
  • Honesty

All of these values that I strongly believe in, had been rejected by 51.9% of my fellow countrymen.

I was hurt and am still hurt.  As it stands, I no longer love my country.

I didn’t even care about England losing to Iceland on Monday.

It will probably come back, and I don’t despise my country like Jeremy Corbyn seems to.  Who knows, Brexit might not actually happen, or maybe we’ll find a way to make it work without too much of a hit to the economy, keeping full access to the single market and most importantly, keeping freedom of movement.  There is no certainty that it will be a disaster.

But the values that I hold dear have been rejected by my fellow countrymen and for that I will long remain saddened.

I want my country back.