One More Week(ish)

It hasn't quite sunk in yet. The fact I'm leaving in 6 days.

My room at the moment resembles a landfill site, with bags here and things there, but packing is only at the planning stage at the moment. Making sure I have everything I need before I trek off down the M25 towards the south of our great country. Whether we'll be able to fit everything I need into Father Mitten's new car, which is fairly minute on the inside, remains to be seen. On Wednesday, I have my "warm-up act" so to speak, as I begin my journey to the official Enrolment Day at 5:40am. The alarm will be set for 5am, which is the exact time I've been waking up all weekend, seeing as I'm not quite finished my set of shifts at the "Berp". This weekend has been pretty painful, waking up at ridiculous times, walking to work in the pitch black of darkness, avoiding late drunks, coming home from their nights out. Those two shifts, one of which started at 6am this very morning, were long, painful and phenomonal tests of patience. I didn't need to be there, but I suppose the money would come in handy.

Saturday morning was a pain in the backside. I turned up, at 5:50am, positively awake as I had woken up a good 3 hours previously due to my crazy sleeping patterns, but with the covering manager nowhere to be seen, it could of got potentially tricky. Luckily, nothing untoward happened before the manager, who had travelled from Clarendon, North London to join us, walked in at 8.30am without a care in the world. Him and his unknown pal then proceeded to do nothing except stand there texting on their iPhones and then completely tear the shift apart as they not once, but twice, charged the wrong person for the wrong fuel. It was chaotic, and I was glad to climb in the back seat of the new 3-door and go home. I was tired, but I had promised myself I was going to stay awake to go for a curry with The Hawkers, providing a last opportunity to see everyone before we go our seperate ways for a few months at least. To keep myself awake, I grabbed a can of Red Bull, (who used to sponsor me), and headed in the direction of Mowsbury Park to watch some football before running home to avoid the inevitable promised thunderstorm.

I'm glad to say I did make it to the curry in the end, and I was greeted by a bearded Mason and Lottie, who left for University today, before being joined by a particularly tanned Master Beddoe, Kettle and Billie and a curry was enjoyed by all amid the usual plethora of innuendo. Oh Beddoe... Despite Mason's attempted efforts to try and get me to join them on a night out, I returned home at 10pm and collapsed. I remember the last time I tried a night out before a shift that started at 6am, and I seem to remember I nearly died. I'm 20 now you know, I'm getting on a bit! My body cannot handle it! Some would argue that isn't the talk of a Fresher...

As soon as I conked out, the alarm went off and it was 5am. It felt like I had been asleep 2 minutes, but I hauled myself awake and went on my way again. Once more, I had to avoid a group of particularly loud and aggressive drunks, who shouted at me in a way that suggested I was about to be knifed, but I negotiated them with apparent ease. Sober beats drunk any day of the week you see. This morning's shift was horribly long. Very quiet, and when it isn't busy, you do the next best thing. And clockwatch. The worst possible thing.

Tomorrow is my last ever shift at BP. Wait... Where have I heard that before...?