Wednesday is a strange day. In some ways, you are in the middle of things, as indeed it is the middle of a working week. In other ways, it feels early. I guess if you start the week on Monday and add the weekend in it is towards the start of the week. It probably has something to do with that. Well, that’s how I used to feel. The way I feel these days, every day seems like the final day full stop.
I’m becoming more responsible for the company website, and a promotion seems imminent. Today I monitored orders from internet customers. There were a couple of names in there that I recognised. One is Robert Palmer who has placed an order for Blade and Blade II, and the other is Gary Moore, who I believe runs the arthouse cinema, who has been ordering smutty films: Lord of the Thighs, Sexy Scary Movie, Sexy Scary Movie II, Dracula’s Dirty Daughter, and SSI: Sex Squad Investigation. I think he shows quite a few of these films at the cinema, although there is no specific theme for it. It doesn’t surprise me that he might also watch some at home.
‘Cheap alternative to prostitutes’, I find myself thinking. I get annoyed at myself for having this idea.
After work I go to the gym to work out. Simon Evans is in there at the same time. I notice he only bothers with his biceps and pectorals: nothing else gets a look in. He does no cardio either but perhaps he gets that somewhere else. Or maybe not. I ask him after my workout.
‘Nope, no cardio. I’m trying to bulk up.’
‘Ah ok. Cardio’s still good for you though.’
‘It isn’t when you’re bulking. Burns calories.’
I go into the shower to let out a giggling fit and hope he doesn’t notice me. When I get over it, I ask him if he wants to come to the music tonight.
‘Well, yeah, sure. Where is it?’
‘The Gatecrasher bar in Fort Goldfax.’
‘Ah yes, I know. Fantastic place. In that case, I’ll definitely come along.’
‘Sure. Bring along some of the others if you can.’
‘I will do. I’ll have a shower first though. You can always go ahead of me. I know where the place is.’
‘Well, I can wait for you. How long will you be?’
‘Half an hour, something like that.’
‘In that case, I’m ok with waiting. How about meeting outside the foyer once you’ve finished?’
It has to be outside the foyer, because the office itself locks up after 6pm, and the café closes at 6.30pm, which doesn’t give us much time to meet there.
‘Sure.’
The foyer is about five minutes’ walk from the gym, so I now have only 25 minutes to wait. I’ve bought my newspaper with me today so I read that. More nasty carry-on in Basra. A lot of people are being killed over there, wearing bright clothes being one of the reasons. I guess the war is coming to an end, but what future lies in wait for Iraq?
Simon arrives dressed in his casual wear: Nike trainers, Calvin Klein Jeans, a Bench top which probably has some expensive designer t-shirt underneath it.
‘Ok, I’m ready. I’m afraid the others couldn’t make it. Not a problem though. Let’s get going.’
‘Sure.’
It is not a far walk from Henderson’s office to the station: just cross the road, enter Station Approach and the railway station is on the left.
The station has five platforms altogether. A glance at the screen proves that it is platform 3 that is required for the next train to Fort Goldfax, which is in ten minutes.
We both get our tickets from the self-service machines so that we don’t have to get in a queue. We go down the steps and turn first left, which leads to the steps up to platforms 3 and 4. A train has just arrived at platform 4. I don’t know much about trains, but it seems to be one of those newer makes. The automatic doors on them work well, but the lack of lavatories is a pain.
There are just a few people around at the moment. A guy in a grey sweater is muttering to himself. I guess he is probably just a bit stressed. He seems to desire to get on the same train as us. There is a couple at platform 4 who seem very irritated with each other.
The shop in the middle of the platform area has changed its name from Citrus to The Shop. These takeovers for you, eh? Well presumably it’s a takeover because why else would you agree to have such a stupid name? The banner is generic: white letters on blue background, nothing else. I preferred the good old colourful Citrus sign myself. Sparkling green letters, orange background, citrus fruits by the writing. It livened this miserable station up.
The train arrives about five minutes late. This is not a problem, as we are in no rush. In fact, for the trains here five minutes late can be early.
Someone has left a newspaper behind as they usually do but I can’t be bothered to read on the journey, so I just leave it. Evans is in a bit of a daze and shows no interest in conversation. I just stare out of the window: I always like to on the way to Fort Goldfax as I like the view.
Amongst the lush green fields and broad oak trees I notice nothing amiss. The thing with countryside is that it can be all the same. Maybe if I studied it closer, it wouldn’t be but I just don’t get time to fully take it in.

Soon, rows of houses appear and you can tell you’re approaching Fort Goldfax. It is the next stop from Sidborough and officially the nearest town: only four miles to the east. I can sense there are arguments going on inside as I bet there always are in a military town.
The loudspeaker announces that we have arrived at Fort Goldfax. We are the only people to disembark from the train. This is the line to London so I imagine most people are going there.
We are at platform 1, where the southern exit is situated. This is situated directly by the shops. To start with, there are two places in Station Approach: a Martin McColl’s and a restaurant. Not a fancy one, just your typical sandwich-bar type place.
On the left is the High Street where, unsurprisingly, there are several more shops. Most of them are chain stores and department stores: WH Smith, Burton, Debenhams, Primark, Marks & Spencer are all here. There are also quite a few betting shops. Particular to Fort Goldfax are the shops that sell military artefacts. I have seen the type of thing they have there in The Falcon, a pub that is also situated in the High Street.
On the next right is London Road, where the library is. Certainly not a dreary library: almost like an Ancient Roman temple. In fact, perhaps it was one at one stage. I have heard they have a good range of books and DVDs there as well. I’d like to explore it but the trouble is that it’ll be closed by the time I get back and I’m not going now.
This is not a residential part of the town as you may have gathered. I think some of the houses are further to the south but the majority are on the opposite side of the station. There is of course the barracks, which are to the south. I think the houses were specially built for soldiers, though many of the squaddies I knew at uni tended to come from Sidborough. Talking of the uni, that is on the opposite side of the station. Yes, you’ve guessed it, quite a few of the houses were built for students!
Not a far stretch beyond the library is the Gatecrasher bar. It was actually purpose-built in 2000, and is a hyper-modern design. I think it’s a bit silly but Evans disagrees.
‘What exactly do you like about that building?’ I ask him.
‘It’s cool. I know you like crappy old buildings, just as you would. You need to get with the times.’
‘Ok, I’ll get with the times (!)’ I say, sarcastically.
He picks up on my sarcasm. ‘You know you need to. It’ll help you.’

The Gatecrasher bar is one of these places where you have to give your hard-earned cash to a doorperson who asks you for your money as soon as you walk in. Today, Sheila is here. I quite fancy her so I decide to be a bit of a creep and leave her a tip. She notices that I’ve deliberately left too much but I smile flirtatiously and tell her to keep the change.
The bar is absolutely chock-full with people. You can barely move. It would be like this. We decide that we will wait to get drinks. The band on stage is just getting ready so we have a bit of time to wait before the music starts.
‘What are we going to do?’ I ask.
‘Hmmm…. Might stick it out for a while. Crowds might disappear. If nothing happens we can go to The Falcon.’
‘I second that.’
After a pause of a few minutes, I say: ‘You know, I don’t really like myself for giving Sheila that tip.’
‘Why??’
‘Well, it just feels like paying for it.’
‘You’re not telling me you don’t go to hookers?’
‘Well, no. Should I?’
‘Well, yes, I should think so! You don’t want to live like a monk, do you?’
‘Well, no, but… hookers?!’
‘Get with it, Holmes. You’re living in the 19th century. Everyone pays for sex now.’
‘I am not a neo-Victorian prude’, I protest. ‘I just don’t like the idea of going to hookers.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ he says impatiently. ‘Sometimes I just can’t be bothered to talk to you.’
I see a guy who looks about 19 or 20, being ushered out. I can just make the conversation out.
 ‘But… this is ridiculous.’ He says.
The bouncer turns to face him: ‘It’s just the rules. You’ve got to have the right shoes.’
‘You never said what the right shoes are.’
‘Well, we don’t allow trainers.’
‘Well, what do you allow then?’
‘Not trainers.’
‘So, what instead?’
‘I don’t know. Pair of shoes or something.’
‘Trainers are shoes.’
‘Well, they’re not welcome in here. Now fuck off.’
‘I’ll be complaining about this. It’s ridiculous.’
The bouncer holds the guy towards him. ‘If you tell anyone, you won’t need your trainers anymore, because I’ll break your fucking back. Now shut up and get the fuck out of here.’
I try to act like nothing’s happened. Evans looks quite uncomfortable and is probably having second thoughts about staying here. However when the crowd clears he asks if I would like a drink.
‘Are you stoic?’ I ask him.
‘Um… no, I don’t think so.’
‘Did you see what happened just earlier?’
‘I did. I must admit it was quite shocking. I’m still staying here though. This is one of my favourite places.’
‘Has this happened before?’
‘I never remember stuff like that happening. Obviously it’s got stricter. Anyway, would you like a drink?’
‘It’ll be alright this time. You go ahead.’
He looks thoughtful. After a while he says ‘To be honest, I don’t want a drink here.’
‘Do you want to stay for the music?’
‘I guess I’ll stay for the music. Depends how long it takes.’
‘Ok, ok. We’ll wait for the music then.’
I think he can tell how uncomfortable I am, just as I can tell how uncomfortable he is. We don’t say much as the time passes. Instead, we look around, searching for danger signals. Around us, people are drinking, telling jokes and laughing, just as normal. Eventually, the first band starts to set up. We turn our attention to the stage a bit more but we keep on looking around at the whole place. Evans departs to the lavatory.
The band announce themselves as Rising Fist. They launch into their first song, which is played as fast as humanly possible. The guy on the vocals can’t keep himself on the stage, preferring to continually stage dive and harass the people nearby (all in the name of good fun of course!). After a while, the guitarist joins him, turning his attention between playing a repeated selection of mega-speedy power chords and jostling the vocalist. The song seems to be about finding your place in the world. You don’t get on with the people in your class, so you become a teenage rebel. There’s a definite heartfelt anger to it: you can tell this band puts expression over becoming famous and that they’ve a few stories to tell. I wonder what on earth a band such as this is doing playing in a bar such as this.
When the song has finished, the lead singer complains: ‘Pretty fugly people in the crowd. Couldn’t we do better?’
I find this amusing, because I can’t help thinking it shows that so-called rebels do not rebel at all, but at the same time I find it sad and disappointing. It seems that there’s something wrong here, that the crowd and the band should be in unison, rather than a striving for acceptance taking place.
Just as the next song is starting, Evans comes back from the lavatory. He seems like he’s seen a ghost. He puts his hand on my shoulder and says ‘I want to leave this place.’
‘Ok, I’ll leave too.’
We exit the bar, and I wave to Sheila. She waves back and wishes me a good evening.
When we get further up London Road, I ask ‘What was all that about?’
‘It’s a shithole. Turd on the floor. What’s the point?’
‘I thought you liked it?’
‘I don’t like it now. It’s changed, to be honest, and not for the better.’
‘I’ve never liked the bar anyway. Though the band were good. For a while.’
‘For a while?’
‘They were good at first, turned out to be disappointing.’
‘Well, that’s a quick judgement. You only heard one song.’
‘Well, you know how it is.’
‘Yeah, I guess so.’ He shrugs his shoulders.
All the shops are shut by now, so there are not many people around. There is, of course, the usual procession of people from street to pub. A couple approaches and they hold each other when we approach and look all smug. They taunt us by calling us ‘faggots’. I get irritated by this.
I turn to Evans and ask ‘Why can’t they just get out of our way?’
‘Just ignore them. They’re idiots.’ He seems a bit more relaxed now.
‘It’s difficult to ignore though, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t worry about all that anymore…..’ He seems fatigued now.
‘I bloody do. It annoys me no end.’
‘Forget it….’ For a minute, I think he’s going to collapse but he seems to be alright.
Up Station Approach, a group of youths mock us. They make a ‘pindick’ gesture with their fingers. I’m getting really irritated now. I find it insulting, and also I resent being made into a victim. That’s not what I went here for.
‘This is just like a high school, isn’t it?’ I complain. ‘Stupid bullying. You’re made to feel pathetic, for nothing.’
‘There’s too much control nowadays. It makes people fed up, and that’s why they act so disrespectfully.’
‘That’s not what you were saying earlier.’
‘What did I say earlier? Ah. No, never mind, forget all that.’
We need platform 3 for our train, which involves crossing the bridge. The bridge seems to have been repainted and, of course, ‘redecorated’: wrappers of McDonalds, Mars and Snickers and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, three quarters of which has been drunk.
We have about five minutes to the next train, which seems to pass very slowly. Five minutes? Feels like five hours. There isn’t anyone at the station apart from us. I’m guessing there will be more people coming back about the time the pubs close. I check the door to the staffroom to see if it’s locked, which it is. You never know though, do you? There seems to be a light on in the staffroom but not anyone in there. Wasting electricity, as per fucking usual. Does every council do this? I take a wander around, checking every single door there is. This is not owing to Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It has more to do with boredom. Every door is locked.
Eventually, the train pulls up. The compartment is empty apart from one other person so we have a virtually free choice of seats. I decide to pick an angle where I can study the other person.
The other person appears to be a woman in her mid 20s, slim build, long ginger curly hair, pink and white striped sweater, Topshop jeans. She has a Jane Noir bag on her and is texting on her mobile. I fantasise about her bent over while I penetrate her. Immediately, this is followed by the thought of me giving her money. I wince and decide to stare out of the window.
When we arrive at Sidborough station, I have to prod Simon as he seems very dazed. This is probably about the events at the Gatecrasher rather than the woman we’ve been travelling with. He responds and gets up.
The woman flicks her hair and looks in my direction. Is there any way I can follow her without seeming like a stalker? To be honest, she doesn’t seem to be getting off at Sidborough anyway. I wouldn’t mind staying on the train so that I can chat her up but duty calls. I get onto platform 1 at Sidborough station with Evans in tow.
Suddenly, Lisa flashes in my mind and I realise that I shouldn’t be chatting up other women anyway. The guilt overwhelms me, bringing me close to unconsciousness, but I carry on.
‘Jeez, I had a bad night!’ he tells me.
‘I know! You sure you don’t want to tell me about it?’
‘No, no. I really don’t. But I think I’m getting over it.’
‘Good.’
Evans lives in Maple Road, which is very near, but I ask him nevertheless: ‘Will you be alright getting back?’
‘Yeah, don’t be silly. I’m still in shock but I haven’t lost my stamina.’
‘Ok. But tell me if anything goes wrong.’
‘I will do.’
At the opening on Maple Road, he departs to his home and says goodbye to me. I then make my way home.
On my way down Fort Goldfax Road, I notice a woman with a tall, black-haired guy, dressed in all black. On closer inspection, I notice that the woman is Lisa. I make my way to the other side of the road to avoid being noticed by them.
I’m very saddened by this. I always thought my attraction towards her was requited. Maybe this guy just came along, but if she was really that interested in me, wouldn’t she just turn him down and go out with me?
‘Love is… a road to betrayal.’
I’m close to tears when I arrive home. I decide to have a takeaway tonight as I’ve been out and can’t be bothered to cook: Rogan Josh this time, which I serve with basmati rice and a cup of blackcurrant tea. I am just in time for the film of Trainspotting, which I have set to record. I think I’ll just go ahead and record it as I’m too tired to watch all of it tonight. How about some channel flicking?
All throughout this, I’m thinking ‘What is the use of love?’
I get stuck on a gameshow that involves people answering general knowledge questions and getting very excited when they get the right answer. I moan when someone answers the question ‘What is the capital of Egypt?’ as Alexandria.
‘Love is… the path to disappointment.’
 Someone thinking that the football team in Blackburn is known as Blackburn City raises a cringe from me.
‘Love is… a delusion.
No-one is special. No-one in this world was created for their paths to meet. No-one wants me here by default. I’m nothing but a piece in the game of acception and rejection. And if I get it wrong, I’m set on the way to oblivion. There’s no mystery to it. And that’s why love is mere intoxication, an illusion, a way to pretend that this game does not exist.’