I’ve said on more than one occasion that London, in the depths of winter – especially when the rain is endless and squalid and awful – feels distinctly like Gotham City.
We had blue skies this morning but from noon onwards it rained and rained and rained. Dark, Dickensian, leaden skies. So horrid. So depressing. My job is so relentless that I don’t really notice the weather. But leaving work today, around 6.30pm (which I consider early), I decided to head to Uniqlo at Piccadilly to try and find some new trousers. I wear jeans at work; it’s called smart casual. Of course the reality is that it’s not really casual nor is it properly smart. But the Emperor needs new clothes. I wear my old work shirts from the days when I wore a suit. And they’re fine. I don’t need new shirts. But trouser-ware when not wearing suits can be difficult at best.
So I wended my way through Leicester Square. Through the herds of super tedious tourists, all moving at 0.00000000001 mph which I find infuriating. So many of them. The sheer volume of people in this city continues to surprise me, 11 years on.
Anyway, a successful trip to Uniqlo though I was minded to lecture a shop assistant who did not have a satisfactory answer for why they have almost nothing in a 32×34. Is my size so very unusual?? It seems so. I am just – by the skin of my teeth – able to wear 32″ jeans. This after having gained 14 lbs in the past year. I’m probably a 33-34″ but I can’t really accept that and I am absolutely resolute that I will lose the excess weight I’ve put on. So I’m sticking with 32×34 for now. I bought a jet-black pair of jeans (the type you have to be careful with washing else they get those white streaky marks) and some flat-fronted dark grey trousers, also 32×34. The trousers just do up but elicit a rather nasty muffin-top effect. These probably can’t be worn until the weight has come off. The black jeans are good though.
At work the morale is low. The figures haven’t been good. I’m still working horrible hours and not really wanting to be there. But I like the people. It’s tricky. I’m not unhappy as such, nor especially stressed. It’s more that my entire life is work and I just don’t have the physical or mental make-up to want to do 50+ hours a week, which I’m currently having to do. I’m not made that way. Sure, lots of people are. But not me. Work is a means to an end and that’s all. So we’ll see.