I’m stuck in the dump. There’s a metaphor in all this somewhere.

The woman in the Volkswagen in front of me just got out and came to my window. “Are we gonna be here all night?” “We are definitely gonna be here for hours,” I tell her. “Unless the local police get involved and direct it. The traffic was stationary all the way to Wandsworth bridge when I arrived. Now all the people trying to get into the dump are blocking all the people trying to get out of the dump.”

I’ve been throwing out all those lever arch files. Unwieldy heavy things, plasticated so they can’t be recycled. Relics of a bygone age. Well put together though. I spent ages trying to tear out the mechanism of just one of them in order to throw it into “scrap metal”. In the end I gave up and lobbed it all into the general rubbish skip. Thinking about it now with this traffic situation I could have taken my time and done it a bit better. We are all gonna still be here at Christmas. At least there’s plenty of wood for a fire.

I had done two workshops before eleven today. Another cold room but this time I got up in plenty of time and put layers on so it wasn’t so bad. Loads of young women from Isleworth and me in the middle blithering on about energy use and personal responsibility.

Now post dump I’m almost ready to fall asleep and it’s only half two. I’ve moved less than ten foot since I started writing this. Stuck in this filthy place on an unseasonably cold grey day and knackered and I remember with a smile that I might have to fly to Jersey at crack of dawn tomorrow to kick old man finance. I haven’t booked as he is as slippery as an eel and I’ve gone over before and had him avoid me. Not gonna waste the money.

God I’m tired though. Occasionally I need to sleep until eleven and I haven’t had that luxury for too long. The deficit is catching up. Plus maybe the fumes of sitting here in an endless queue of traffic trying to escape this land of the filth-buckets.

Well, the advantage of the traffic jam is I’ve got this blog done bright and early. I just wanna have a little kip. Can’t though. Off to help a friend with a self-tape. Oh the joys.

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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