Bucko's World

T minus 1

The day before you go away is always an odd one.  There is a distinct feeling of unease in the air and nothing feels quite right for some reason.  Maybe it's because work is always odd on your last day or maybe it's sinking in that tomorrow you'll be a thirty thousand feet above the planet in an aluminium tube built by the lowest bidder.

 With most of my clothes already packed I find myself scraping the bottom of the drawers to find a solitary pair of pants lurking there with a huge hole in them.  Good thing it's a warm day as my plums will be getting lots of air wearing those I can tell you.  I'd be a right embarrassment to my Mum if I was to be in an accident.  Luckily I have choice of two T-Shirts to select from; one that smells when I get hot and one that proclaims W.A.S.P. - Animal Fucks Like a Beast.  I choose the smelly one.

And I also find myself standing at Elmstead Woods station at stupid o'clock just so I can get in early so that once I've finished (probs by 11.00 on current going) so I can fuck off home and get my brain properly into holiday mode.  what I don't get is why there are two million other people here too shattering any illusion of a quiet, comfy ride in to work for a change, and I bet all these fuckers are in the queue in front of me tomorrow as well.

Once at work, its odd too.  Instead of just getting on with my work with my headphones on to drown out the numpties, I have to spend the morning teaching an an equally busy colleague how to do my work whilst I'm away, partly because the rest of the staff are too thick to do it but mainly because he's the only one I trust to do it properly.  Fuck the fact that he's got to cover two other people's work due to the mismanagement deciding to send most of the office off to Munich for the next two weeks.  seriously, Tweedledum and Tweddledummer couldn't organise things this badly.  Fortunately for Tweedledummer, he's booked his holiday for the same two weeks as me so he won't have to deal with any fallout from his mental decision.  

And now I'm in the back of a cab listening to LBC tell us the route we're taking to Heathrow is blocked by an accident, whilst my wife and the cabbie discuss alternative routes to get stuck on instead.  I'm sure we'll do fine, bearing in mind the first thing the cabbie said to us when we told him where we were going was to ask if we have Sat Nav on our phones.  Tomorrow, I just pray the pilot has more of an idea where we are going.