After working 8.30 til 1.30 yesterday shooting the festival I dragged my arse into the day job this morning to sell mobile phones. With a huge target for a small store to be achieved by the end of play Saturday in order for me to get my bonus for the month it seems almost a certain impossibility. But, am I really that concerned? Probably not. As soon as the regional manager arrives back from his holiday the first issue he has to contend with is my resignation from my post as branch manager. Three days a week as a sales consultant will pay my bills and then I can spend my time writing and filmmaking. Hopefully.
So, as the day dragged by. And the people dribbled in one by one. I sat. Looking. At the window. Bored. Beyond belief. I contemplated running out into the traffic in order to relieve my boredom, but decided that reading the paper would pass the time. With the choice between The Sun or The Telegraph I decided that easy reading and boobs would be the best way forward. The usual drivel spilt from the red top and I found myself even more bored than when I started. So, to the sport. As I fingered through the back pages I found myself becoming privy to the result of the Formula One and the England vs Japan game. Balls. I had Sky plussed them and planned to watch them later. So, do I watch them? The racing sounded like fun, but when you know who wins and why it tends to take the drama out of it for me. What about the football? I love football. I could watch it all day and night. But, The Sun’s sports writers do not sound very enthused with the performance and winning via two own goals does not sound like a great game of football. But, I watched anyway. And it was rubbish.
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