I'm Tired.

But for a good reason.

After sitting up late last night reading comics, I was awoken at the not too pleasant hour of Two Minute to Nine by Michelle from Julia Ross Ringing my phone.

My phone was in my jacket and my jacket was on the end of my bed. And when I wake up I am in no state to carry one an intelligent conversation anyway. (Some would argue this is the case all the time). So I returned the call once I had it together.

Turned out that there was a adays work going at a publishing house off Marble Arch. 7 pounds an hour. The Catch? I had to get there ASAP. I tell Michelle that i can make it by 1015 at the latest.

So I jump in the shower, aiming to leave the flat at 20 past.

I leave at half past. I think of calling michelle to ask what I should wear, but I figure my usual corporate uniform ion the first day will do just fine. Remember that point.

[this is hard to type: I'm tired, I'm in the Soho Easy-everything, the keyboard is crap and my hands are sticky from the sub I just ate).

Back to the story:

I run down the street. I notice that there are people milling around outside Leytonstone Station. Sheesh. This can't be good.

I get into the station: turns out that the Central line is in a state similar to my colon after too much greasy kebab meat: bloated and immobile. I've got to stop eating kebabs.

No trains going west on the Central line. No-one knows how long for.

I overhear the Underground girl tell somebody to catch the W14 to Leyton becuase the trains will be running there. So I do that.

Suddenly I find myself in Wanstead, a leafy green suburb even further North East than Letonstone. Nice work, knucklehead. Right bus, wrong direction.

I try to call my contact. Wrong number. So I call Michelle at Julia Ross. She tells me that she has already called ahead about the fucked up Central Line situation, and just to get there as soon as I can.

So I climb up to Wanstead Station and catch a Central Line train.

Several stops sitting nowhere near a station later, plus the usual sixteen odd stations between Wanstead and Marble Arch later, I arrive. It's Quarter to 11.

Run up the street. Find the street. Find the building. (details have been removed to prevent any possible Doocing). Present at desk. get buzzed up to third floor. IE Reception for a company that publishes a bunch of fashion magazines, as well as B and Maxim (pick the odd one out).

stunningly beautiful girls are walking around.

I get sent to floor six. Where I find out that my job will involve lots of loading stuff onto trolleys, taking down to the street and piling it into a garage next to a skip. And variations therein.

I'm dressed for desk work, or light mail room kind of stuff. Maroon dress shirt, jacket, black slacks and the new shoes that Mum and Dad bought when they were in London last.

Oops. I told you that would be an important point. And it would be something that I would be reminded of all day, everytime I scuffed my new shoes or brushed dust off my black slacks.

I'm mixing up tenses, but sue me. I'm tired.

James, this musician in the group of four other temps, lent me a t-shirt. Other temps were James Best, an Aussie from Sydney and Olly, a mixed race kid with an afro tied back in anarchic plaits.

The downside of the day: hard work, being stuck out in the sun, lots of up and down stairs and at least an hour spent in the subterranean corridors of the basement of #64 North Row.

The upside: I got to see the workings of at least one magazine, even if it was a tacky fashion mag, and basically move back and forth among stunning women all day. The down side of this was that I looked neither tough nor stylish while I was doing this. And by the end I was actually pretty damn sweaty and more than a little dirty.

But all the guys were.

The gaffer was an expatriate australian who was pretty cool.

He bought cokes for the crew at least twice during the day and joke with us, as well as doing as much lifting and lugging when it came down to the necessity. I think that he was was the Mailroom chap.

At the end of the day the temps exchanged phone numbers and we were given the option of coming back on Monday. Me and Olly took this offer. English James had two job interviews on Monday, one for the BBC, one for EMI. So he passed. So did Aussie James.

We hunted for a pub, and unable to find one that wasn't full to the gills, we called it a day and separated.

I braved the rain (enjoying the change from the brutal heat of this week) and wandered down oxford street. Stopping in at a Borders and buying a Terrorizer magazine.

The further down Oxford street to get a sub. Then here.

I'll probably add something more tomorrow.