Showing posts with label Tami Terrell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tami Terrell. Show all posts
Thursday, 19 May 2011
Get A Fucking Life!
So, here I am sitting in a hotel restaurant in Nottingham and not for the first time cursing the fact that I did not pay attention while I packed my bag. Not only has the T-shirt I packed got a couple of marks on it ( fact: washing clothes at 30 degrees does not get rid of stains no matter what Unilever tell you, in reality stains appear that weren't there before) but also I have forgotten to pack my book, the essential piece of kit for the anti-social single business traveller. Nothing says, "I am not in the slightest bit interested in striking up a conversation" more than a thick book and the one I'm reading at the moment is a belter, A Big Boy Did It And Ran Away by Christopher Brookemyre.
So it is either look like a total jobsworth and read a study protocol while waiting for dinner or just sit here and soak up the atmosphere and as I may be being made redundant next week there is no way I am expending more of my time on work tasks than is totally necessary so I sit here and absorb the surroundings.
Behind me is a group of what I take to be sales reps all trying to out do each other and the words of Colonel Kilgore pop into my mind " You hear that, you hear that son, BULLSHIT, nothing else in the world sounds like that". Christ, do these guys actually think that the other clowns are listening let alone believing this pish? The four Yorkshire men don't come close.
So I turn my attention elsewhere. Across from me sit a trendy couple in their early twenties who are each staring intently not into each others eyes but into their smartphones, thumbs going ten to the dozen. As I sit here watching this I wonder if they are texting each other but after a few minutes the guy raises his head says something and then shoves his phone in the girl's face and they both snigger and then go back to their handsets. The sharing of screens and sniggering continues until I get bored and again scan the room.
What I find is at least five other single sad sacks sitting fiddling with phones either trying to give off the impression that they are important or to stave off the boredom and the feeling of utter loneliness that spending a mid week night in a hotel in the heart of the Midlands really means.
My steak frites eventually arrives, my interest in my surroundings subsides and I get on with the job in hand, order another beer and try to forget where I am.
Tami Terrell - Lone, Lonely Town
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