So, plans since yesterday’s post have changed somewhat considerably. Why? Because, thanks to the lurgy that’s been sweeping the office for the past few weeks, I’m feeling far too rough to make the journey to Manchester for an all-night clubbing extravaganza. This is very disappointing, not least because in cancelling I’ve lost somewhere in the region of £70, but also because the Warehouse Project is something I have wanted to attend since I first heard about it many years ago. I feel instinctively and with a heavy heart that particular ship has now sailed, but in life I guess you win some and you lose some, and as I win far more often than I lose I can’t complain. Still, it rankles that I’ve had to pull out and, in doing so, have turned my reputation on its head from party trooper to party pooper in one fell swoop.
On the plus side I no longer have to concern myself with running out of steam at 2am and spending three hours counting down the minutes to my return train. I have also just ordered an obscene amount of Chinese takeaway and bought a consolatory bottle of Beaujolais, so things could be infinitely worse…
Loathe as I am to admit this, it seems that (perhaps unsurprisingly) my productivity levels sky rocket when I a) go to bed before 11pm and b) go to the gym before work. Today was quite simply exceptional; I ploughed through my work and personal to do lists, completing tasks I had been putting off because I hadn’t previously managed to find the energy to deal with them. I then came home and spent two and a half hours cleaning and tidying the flat from top to bottom before putting up the Christmas tree (fiddly decorations and all) and cooking a stir fry for dinner. Even now as I sit in my newly cleaned and decorated flat my energy levels haven’t dipped to where they would usually be at this time of night. In short, today has been a valuable lesson and one I must remember and make an effort to repeat more regularly.
But whilst another early night tonight and gym session tomorrow are most certainly scheduled into the diary, tomorrow night will be another matter entirely. Why? Because some months back four friends and I decided it would make perfect sense to purchase tickets to the famous Warehouse Project music event in Manchester and, to save ourselves money on accommodation, return to London on the first train on Saturday morning. What we may have failed to factor into that particular equation is that all of us, bar one, are now in our thirties, and not quite the spring chickens we were when we went all night clubbing in the halcyon days of our twenties. Not that we can’t still party with the best of them, but these days I struggle to stay up until the sunrise, let alone to stay up until the sunrise and then get a two hour train home. But hey, it’s Silly Season. Nights like tomorrow are the whole point, no?