The Absent Author
I'm in my PJs already, because a guy's 2-litre Coke bottle exploded over me at the Asda checkout earlier this evening. Serious Authors aren't supposed to get worked up about petty annoyances. Indeed, I can play 'Johnie Cope' with even more gusto as I fume over the irritations of a rather chaotic day, but today has been exceptionally irritating.
I coughed and spluttered my way through the 9-5, wondering if I was turning into a consumptive Victorian heroine through reading too much contemporary literature. Pale and interesting, I felt lousy, but at least my coughing hadn't cracked any ribs like one of my Twitter associates.
Probably because I felt rotten, I chuntered more than usual over the minor annoyances that occur in any office environment. Leaving the building, I found some solace in the magnificent daffs and tulips in the border outside our city-centre premises.
And suffered verbal abuse on the way home, from an aerosol-snorting junkie reclining on the subway seat this evening, who impressively managed to haul himself upright to start begging for 'ny spare chaynge' a mere ten inches from my face. Far too close for comfort, and I declined firmly. No knights in shining armour on the subway - they all just sat there in their suits, pretending it wasn't happening as the guy hurled insults at me. I got off at the next stop. Yuck. Reported him, then got back on the next train, and annoyed my nearest and dearest by being late home. I can't win!
Then there was the Coca-Cola fountain at the checkout. I think I've had enough of today. I'll print out my handouts, now I'm stocked up with ink again, and then I'll declare the day over. There will be no revision of my final chapter tonight.