Van to merc

Home today briefly. I slept like a rock last night, Brian the same in the room next door. We both commented on it in the morning.

Up early and reluctantly to cross town and meet Bill. He’s unloading some gigantic speakers into a warehouse in Lea Bridge. He needs a second pair of hands.

As I’m waiting on the platform at Tottenham Hale I instruct payment of nearly £1800 to a garage in Mortlake to fix somebody else’s car. It’s been a slog to get it, and feels like a relief to send it off, but it’s probably the most I’ve ever spent in a single transaction and all I get for it is fewer emails. It also brings me square to the bottom of my overdraft. Thank God I’ve got some work coming. Screw you, marble slab.

Once we’ve loaded the speakers, and bigod sir they weighed a ton, Bill toddles off in his mostly fucked Luton. I toddle off on foot. I take it slowly back home. It’s a rare day today, with sun and wind in tandem, not as close as it has been. A day to feel connected to nature. I have a bit of a walk before hitting the admin.

Invoices. Lots of invoices. All the invoices. There’s so much expensive motorcycle training coming up, so I can get myself fit and ready for the Oxford commute. I need to make sure I can pay for it. I’m not going to do this by halves. I am quite fond of my knees.

Wouldn’t it be lovely not to have had to pay almost two grand, I find myself thinking. But on the plus side this situation has propelled me off the booze indefinitely, and that’ll save me countless hundreds of pounds over time depending on how long I keep it up for. It really seems to be easy come easy go at the moment. I’m a focus of energy. A conduit, moving the stuff around at astonishing speed.

Tomorrow I’m up with the lark again. Enterprise Park Lane know me. I get a lot of random company hire cars for my part time job. Sometimes they are nice to me. Johnny rocks up at 7pm with an A- Class Merc that has 49 miles on the clock. It’s just off the line. “Break it in nicely,” he says. “I’ll only be putting about 60 miles on it,” I reassure him. Everything is automated, and it’s pretty compact. Johnny gives it to me completely empty – on the reserve tank. I nervously crawl to the garage to put in £30 of – (surprisingly) – diesel, and the range jumps to 215 miles. Mercedes have clearly sorted out fuel economy! That’s a game changer, make no mistake. I need one of these new engines. I reckon a tenner would’ve got me to High Wycombe and back.

But it’s another early start tomorrow, putting more butter on somebody else’s toast through me. I’m turning in, looking forward to breaking some miles into the pristine Mercedes. Making sure I’m rested just in case some rush hour maniac comes at me full tilt. I won’t get lovely treatment from Johnny and co at Park Lane if I total the brand new A-Class…

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Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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