I've come to work by mistake

Tuesday 23-09-2008: Managed to turn up for work by mistake. Broadly welcomed, but tried to convince my supervisor I was a ghost. Refrained from telling customers to "piss off, I'm on holiday". Told my other employer I was working. A good day for loafing.

Wednesday 24: Burned by a comment Jenny made spent a couple of hours throwing away ex's knickers, during the course of which I find some rather natty cycling shorts and gloves. Evening spent modelling in from of mirror and holding my stomach in.

Thursday 25: Day spent furiously loafing and surfing the web. Within hours I had achieved nothing, and chuffed with the result, over-eat myself to sleep.

Friday 26: Carefully planned, I appear for my feminine job. Wrote a few carefully constructed (aka "copied") scripts for backups. Cute. Writing bash for Macs. Succeeded in getting something working. Big lunch of an hour, pasta, chicken and beer.

Pop home to change and wash then out with them again for some Chinese action. Almost aghast to find this will be a dinner for thirteen. Make a couple of "Judas" gags which I think were missed. Splash water on birthday boy. Explained to him how to drink a flaming sambuca and tequila. One of only a few using chopsticks. I'm surprised so few knew how to order a Chinese meal, even less how to eat it. Predictably I order too much rice and noodles and not enough chicken. Duck was nice though.

Unable to get into The Proverbial in Stevenage because one of our party is wearing trainers. I never wear trainers, except when running. I don't run. Who'd have thought we weren't smart enough for a pub in Stevenage. Went to another pub which would allow us in. I can see why.

Bought double vodkas for Kate and Keely. Surprised they couldn't take them. What's happened to binge Britain when a couple of Stevenage girls can't neck a bit of spirit? I satiate myself with vodka and Czech beer. Keely spends evening trying to persuade a man to drive from Gloucester. "It's my way or the highway". When he refuses, she says "Seeyah".

Cabs to nightclub, Chicago's in Stevenage. Welcome to Hell. Drink. Watch Keely and Kate dance. Once again, Laura's boyfriend unable to join us because he's wearing trainers. Tsk. Surprised Robbie and Kate's boyfriend don't dance. I wonder if Kate and her boyfriend ever have a baby if it will be born fake tanned?

After having a discussion with a man over the price of chewing gum in the gent's toilet managed to get separated from Robbie, Kate and her boyfriend (who doesn't dance, but might work out a bit). Wait outside club until 3:40. Figuring I've lost them, brace myself for a 4 mile walk home.

After 10 minutes, decide to steal a bike. Of course, it would have to be good, not too big and unchained. Within a minute of settling on this, I find the perfect mountain bike outside Betfair.com's HQ. I pick it up. Hold it. Spin the pedals. Perfect. Ah! But this HQ is probably raked by CCTV, and I don't cut a dash in a pale linen jacket with protruding stomach. Not quite Crimewatch, but quite distinctive.

Saturday 27: Bed at 4:30. Wrote a couple of mawkish emails and necked a couple of pints of water. Rose about 6am for a pee. Vertical isn't working very well for me, so sleep for another couple of hours. Course I'll be sober enough to drive.

Uneventful drive to KT1, though it did need a far bit of concentration. Loud Aerosmith helped (cheers Steve!). KT1 at about 11:30 ish in one piece. Fatigue starting to hit. All I can think of is sleep. Perhaps food as well.

Michelle mortified that she's set off the fire alarm, while Jason, mum and I thought it was someone else in the building. Still, two fire engines and 10 fire fighters got to stretch their legs. Response time was rubbish though. We were almost at the first course.

Nice time at Teddington Lock. While others avoiding dog turds, I gave over-detailed directions to a couple of cyclists. No doubt, being men, they'll forget after "take the next right...".

Sunday 28: Mum cooks a modest meal of left overs plus an entire second meal. She never has the problem of cooking for one because, well, she never cooks for one. Before being beached for good, go out for small beer with Dan. We're able to watch Hibs lose on a widescreen, then a couple of minutes at the end we're able to watch then lose on two widescreens and a TV. Dan is well pleased.

Later in Hitchin, ask a barmaid what she would do on her day off. "Go to the Tate". Great that's what I'd do. Leave before it occurs to me that what I should have said was "What are you doing Tuesday?".

Monday 29: Back at the feminine job, but spend most of the time worrying about my car's MOT. £50 or £300. It's like roulette. OK. £300 it is then.

Tuesday 30: Tate. Great. Love the pre-Raphaelites. Waterhouse - love it. Millais - love it. Loved to see Bath of Psyche. Oh! Those Victorians. Saw the runners. Did think they should be running faster and more desperately. Embarrassingly I completely misinterpreted the installation to a couple of staff members. But I'm only an electronic engineer! Saw my favourite Copley piece (The Death of Major Pierson). Somehow it's lost some of its lustre :-(

Baltic. Great. Agnieszka was very friendly, for a Pole. She's got Olive skin, she's about 24, speaks Italian and has, yes, dreadlocks (though tastefully tied up in a scarf). We tasted a few drinks together. She prefers the Cherry vodka, but helpfully pointed out the strawberry is "popular with the ladies". The Baltic Royale is nice too (Strawberry vodka with Champagne). Linda - if you're still awake, I'll take you there. I remember tasting 6 vodkas, so it's likely I had about 12.

Wobbling about I weave through London's weekday rush hour traffic with a smug glow about not being at work.

And so to bed.