19 October 2007

An oxymoron

In coach A this morning. 18 October, one unfortunate passenger sits with his foot, in a large plaster cast, up on the table in front of him. Were I in his position, I think I might feel inclined to find an alternative to commuting, even temporarily.

In fact, I nearly did so this morning, having returned home at 10.30pm following a dinner with colleagues the purpose of which I simply didn't get. As one of them said to me when the date was first set, "If I wanted to socialise with colleagues, I would" - when an evening like this is organised for you, it's too contrived even to stand a chance of working.  I've been pretty tired all week anyway, no doubt because of that ill-paced half marathon on Sunday (by Wednesday, my legs had just started working again), and missing out on running for various reasons has pushed me further along the downward path. I could very easily have stayed at home today, but (note, everyone!) I haven't. But it doesn't bode for a highly-motivated day at work, something that I haven't achieved in a long time.

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