#oneaday, Day 180: Exhausted

This is going to be a brief one, and for that I apologise. It’s been a very, very, very long day.

Had my interview today. Journey to Newbury was absolutely fine with no hiccups. The interview went well, the people were very pleasant and they very much enjoyed my presentation which featured a selection of stick-Pete pictures to liven up the slides, one of which you can see in the corner. I’m still not convinced about the job itself, though I felt quite positive about the interview.

The thing that switches me off a bit is that it would involve relocating and a lot of travel. Right now, I really don’t have the finances to be able to fund that sort of thing. It suggests to me that it is something I could maybe do in the future, but it’s not the right time to do it now. In the meantime, I have another job interview the Wednesday after next that will allow me to move back home for a bit, raise a bit of money and get myself sorted in preparation for whatever awesomeness is hopefully around the corner.

So that’s almost kind of sort of decided, then. As much as it pains me to leave Southampton, the overwhelming response from a lot of people to my question the other day was that making a new start is easier if you make a physical move as well. And okay, going back home isn’t exactly a completely fresh start. But it’s something to build on, and it’s a change. And change is good, apparently.

What wasn’t so good today was the journey back. As I left the building where the interview was taking place, it started to rain. That stupid kind of rain where it’s still sunny but you get soaked at the same time. Then it stopped. Then it started again.

I hid in the forecourt of a BP garage until it passed and looked at Google Maps to find my way back to the train station. Turned out the train station was actually very close to where I was, but on the other side of some kind of waterway. And it didn’t look like there were any ways across.

Fortunately, there was a footbridge that wasn’t marked on the map. Said waterway turned out to be a canal, which meant there was a pathway all along the side of it… and no way to get out to the station which was tantalisingly out of reach. I ended up walking about a mile to reach somewhere that was probably less than 200 yards away. Oh well.

Then I got the train back. The journey involved a change of trains at Reading. Changing trains is always stressful because there’s always that worry that you’ll miss your connection. In this case, it turned out to be true, but it wasn’t my fault. The timetables on the station at Reading bore absolutely no resemblance to the trains that were actually coming and going. I ended up stuck in Reading station for nearly two hours, lack of sleep rapidly catching up with me until I did doze off on a bench like a well-dressed vagrant only to be shaken awake by another besuited man asking me if I needed to get on the Oxford train that was about to leave.

“No,” I said groggily. “Thank you.” Then I closed my eyes again.

When the train I did need eventually arrived, I decided to get into the “quiet” carriage where theoretically mobile phones and stereos are banned. However, what was not banned was the screechy Brummie hen party in there who were flirting noisily with all and sundry and getting incredibly drunk. I just wanted to sleep. Noisy, screechy drunk women are bad enough. Throw in a Brummie accent and… well, you can imagine.

When I did eventually get back to Southampton I was in full-on zombie mode. I shambled my way back to my flat, collapsed into bed for an hour or two and then set about the day’s business of writing.

And now here I am. At 3.30am. Tired. But it’s Saturday tomorrow. And I intend on sleeping until lunchtime. So there.