This week has been jam-fucking-packed for me, so sit down, have a brew, and a couple of biccies while I tell you all about it.
Tuesday evening, I set off down to London for a Quality & Safety conference with my new team. All was well during the evening: we had a nice BBQ, strolled around HQ, shared a few laughs, etc.
I get to the hotel later in the evening, and I’m at that stage in my life where I just want to call it a night, you know? I’m not one for staying up partying like the rest of my team anyway. I get into bed, and some melon at 2 am sets the hotel fire alarm off. I dart up out of bed in nothing but my boxers, only to find out it was a false alarm.
I wake up in the morning to about 50 messages from the team saying the vans got broken into during the night. Ten vans got done over! Fucking cretins!
As it’s a company van and property, I’ve decided, well, it’s no skin off my nose. I wrap the day up, and I’ve got to head from London to Knaresborough for training. About an hour into my four-hour trip, the offside rear blows while I’m in the outside lane. Scares the absolute piss out of me.
Thankfully, and this will be the only time you’ll see me write this, as they’re currently installing new emergency areas, I was limited to 50mph, so it was a lot more controllable. I swing into an emergency area, ring the AA, and he’s there in 20 minutes. He pulls off the spare, and it’s as flat as a pancake!
He gets some air in it, whacks it on but isn’t confident it’ll last. Anyway, it gets me to Knaresborough. Thinking this is the end of my bad streak, I have a good old kip, but the universe isn’t done with me yet. Oh no.
I wake up in the morning, check the van over; the spare has gone bloody flat! Ring up recovery, and a mobile tyre fitter is out within the hour. He slaps on a new tyre, and off I pop to training.
As I’ve had one of those weeks, I decided to go out for a run, clear my head a bit, you know, and relax a little. Did a nice 5k down by the river, came back to the hotel, and rested for the evening. At 1 am, some prized prick decided to start smoking in his room, setting off the fire alarm. This is just my pissing luck. I leap out of bed in a flight/fight situation, pull open the door, and the guy next door to me says we’re all good, mate. I go to settle back down again, and fuck me, the alarm goes off yet again!
I thought, sod this, I’m just going to toast; at least I’ll get some sleep! Within about five minutes, it was off again. I thought as I lay there tossing and turning till about 3 am, what an absolute clusterfuck of a week this has been. But throughout it all, I just kept thinking, it could be worse!
These instances of just pure and simple bad luck are part of life. What’s done is done. There wasn’t any point in letting that fester, as it’d just be me continuing that and letting it affect me. So I chose to smile and laugh it off.
Comments