dispatches 11.07.2010

A new day, another train ride down to London.  I was in an optimistic mood this morning.  It felt like I had turned a corner and ahead of me the horizon and wide open possibilities for the future.  It is exciting. 

My book about Pythagorean numerology arrived yesterday.  It is written by Glynis McCants, a former stand-up comic and writer.  I have dabbled in numerology in the past.  I am not sure what has guided me back here, but it fits in with the project I am working on at present.  I figured out my Life Path number which is the most important number in the series of numbers that are meant to affect our lives.  My Life Path number is 3.  Three’s are creatives.  I must admit that the description of a 3 Life Path seems uncannily accurate.  McCant’s description of a 3 person confirmed what I already knew about myself, which is what some would say makes subjects like numerology and astrology believable because people project themselves into the words, which reflect what you already believe to be true about yourself.  I guess it doesn’t matter whether it’s true or not.  It only matters if you believe it to be true and find the words helpful in your own personal reflection.  I tend to evaluate these things on whether they are useful or not useful.  If it’s useful, use it; if not, discard it.  In this case, the words are useful and that is enough for me.

On an entirely different note…

Joy, the trolly lady, has stopped speaking to me.  I used to buy my coffee from the stand on the platform and the occasional bacon roll from Joy.  She gave me a lecture once about how I could save money by buying my coffee and my bacon roll from her.  So I did.  However, her coffee is not that greatest, plus I was spending a fortune buying coffees.  So I decided to make my own coffee and bring it in a thermos.  Joy didn’t like this one bit.  The first time I brought my own coffee, she gave me a dirty look.  The second time she decided she’d flog me the bacon roll anyway.  Mostly I say no thanks.  But she asks every day.  Last Friday I asked her for a bacon roll and she said sorry I don’t have any.  Call me paranoid, but I got the feeling she had some bacon rolls, but she wanted to make sure she offered them to her regular customers first.  Fair enough, I guess. Monday, I brought my own bacon roll and coffee onboard.  And now Joy has fallen out with me completely.  Today I didn’t have a coffee or a bacon with me and Joy wasn’t compelled to offer to sell me either.  She just looked at me, squinted, and kept on pushing her trolley right past me.

The rest of my day passed without incident.  Things were quiet on the work front.  The kind of quiet that precedes a storm.  These next few weeks will be critical. 

At lunch, I decided to wander down streets I had never been, in search of a new place to eat.  There were plenty of choices.  I settled on a little joint called the Snaxx Cafe.  Nothing fancy.  The prices were much the same as any place else in London.  It was quiet, clean, and had a good view so I decided to stay and enjoy a bacon and egg sandwich.

I am still fighting though a cold I picked up from sitting in iceboxes all day.  It boggles my mind that on the train and in the office I work that the air condition is blowing full blast as if it were hot outside.  Even stranger, when asked to if the air can be turned off, the reply is “We can’t.  There is a summer setting and a winter setting and we can’t  turn the air conditioning off until late September.”  OK.

I decide to burn the cold out off me by sitting in the steam room and the sauna after work.  I find extreme heat often cures me.  We’ll see.

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