All Alone

This weekend has been one of the longest of my living life so far. Just every minute of it, even the times not spent being at work at stupid o'clock seemed to drag on and on and on and on....

I wasn't in the best of moods on Friday night. I was facing a weekend that I thought was strictly behind me, but the old work, cricket, work, cricket, work combo was going to happen, and there was nothing I could do about it. Friday night was of the highly distinctly average variety, working with an 18-year old girl who moves as fast as a 98-year old, and it was highly frustrating. It was almost like being back in the dark days working with 'The Wall', except without the patronising, annoying nature. The fact that the short-lived days of the store closing were over also, meant that we were serving drunk after drunk after drunk... I couldn't help but think that should be me!

I was tired on Saturday. After a few months of doing this weekend routine last year, I sort of got used to it, going whole weekends without sleep, dosed up to the eyeballs on caffeine, but this year, one night of work followed by one cricket match, and I was on the floor. Our performance on Saturday, as a team, was generally poor, as we went down to the apparent top of the league by some 30-odd runs. We batted 2nd, and after I got out early, (seems to be a recurring pattern at the moment), I opted to go home, cowardly leaving the guys to try and grind a result out. I needed a few hours kip, because I genuinely didn't think I could make it through another night without it.

That kip helped. I woke up at 9pm in a strangely decent mood, despite knowing another busy and hectic night was on the cards, plus knowing that friends were going out on the town. I cycled the downhill stretch to work, wind in my hair, and arrived early. I started work early, as I figured I could get ahead. 10pm came however, and there was no sign of my slow co-worker. 15 minutes later, and there was still no sign, so Cool Will had no choice but to leave me on my own. Now, this isn't as bad as it sounds. The store closed completely, (not even serving through the night window), but I was left with the task of doing everything. On my own. On a Saturday night.

It was long. I looked at the clock at one stage, expecting it to be 5am, and saw the hands of the clock both pointing north, indicating it was midnight. It was very strange, surreal and eerie being in that place by myself. No customers, (although there nearly were), makes it a very empty place and with only the poor BP music playlist to keep you company, it becomes a lonely place. Despite the copious amounts of 'Closed' signs displayed however, drunken customers attempted to get in..

I am fairly convinced that some people have started to mate with vegetables. So many people were stood right next to the sign saying 'Closed' yet still wanted to be served. Some wouldn't budge for 10 minutes, banging repeatedly on the windows, demanding service. Some people, apparently, cannot read, and therefore don't know we were CLOSED. You get that? Closed! It's not as if people go banging on the windows of cafes, demanding a sandwich and a cup of tea when the 'Closed' sign is up, so why should this be any different? It got quite intimidating at times, as large groups gathered outside, waiting to be served, with me, inside, knowing full well they weren't going to be. One lady got so angry that she chucked something at the window, probably waking me up as I had dozed off, more out of boredom than tiredness. It sure was an interesting experience, but probably not one that I would like to repeat.

I got a few hours kip that morning, after making the painful bike journey home, up the hill, and woke up in time for the 2nd instalment of cricket. It sure was an interesting game yesterday afternoon. We bowled first, with me getting a slip catch in the process. I say 'Catch', I didn't use my hands at all. It flew at me at the pace of a leopard on speed, and me, being rather tired, reacted quite late and proceeded to let it hit me in the ribs before I sort of hugged it and somehow it stuck in my arms. Lucky, but they all count. They got 232. As usual, I opened the batting in our run chase, not expecting a lot of myself after my recent run of dreadful form. I felt a bit better though, despite falling to a decent catch on 16. We were looking very comfortable however, on 170-1, before a collapse sparked a phenomonal end to the match. What did we get? 232! The first ever game I've been involved in that's finished as a tie. Of course, people were annoyed/angry that we hadn't won, but I was too tired to care too much.

I came home, to be greeted by a new car in the driveway, (not mine, I hasten to add). Mother Mitten has purchased a Peugeot 306 in light blue, while Father Mitten bought a new Astra for himself! New cars galore! I was in a good mood going to work though, knowing this was the last one of a very long weekend.

I can't be bothered to go into details, but once again, it was impossibly long. I was working with a guy who doesn't usually work in our store, (covering for the absentee), and he was genuinely silent. It was like working with someone who was doing a sponsored silence. I was being greeted only with nods or shakes of the head, and by 6am, I was pleased to be.... walking home. Life without a Mittenmobile really is a pain in the backside.

And now, as I am really very tired, I am going to sleep. Apologies for the boring sound of chronological events, but my brain is too muddled to write enthusiastically. I'm sure you understand!