The cold light of morning comes too quickly. BBC Radio One rudely interrupts my dozing by blasting all the latest hits for the nation like a nuclear strike against my senses. I thrust my arm out from underneath the duvet and bang on the snooze button. The music stops. I roll over again and start to descend back into the land of nod. But, before I know it, the airwaves are back with their assault. This time I lie back and open my eyes. The tune that’s playing isn’t, actually, too bad. Kind of funky. In a commercial way. I know its not for me, but at daybreak your bullshit detector’s not operating at full volume. I lift myself up just a bit. I survey the scene. My sta prest lie on the arm chair in front of me whilst my Fred Perry and socks are on the floor. My trainers are upside down against the socks. My cap’s on my pillow next to me. I yawn.

The first thought on waking is Tina. I see her in my mind as she was last night, standing at the bar, laughing and joking. I remember when I first saw her. She was dancing in The Funktion, a shimmering blonde mirage, thrusting her hips to the beat and mouthing the sparse lyrics. I was hooked. But last night. I remember what happened. I can’t allow it to continue. I can’t let antics of my so-called mates blow me out like that. I have to get a grip. I’ve got to make a move soon. I’ve got to.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not into commitment or anything like that. Far from it. But a few hours with her, followed by a regular repeat performance, would be enough to keep body and soul together. And if it ever began to get heavy, well, then I’d have to consider what I was going to do.

I roll onto my back. This is a sod of a hangover. I look round the room and feel dizzy. Its important to get myself in a decent state but first of all I decide to do something about the state of my mouth which feels as rough as a badger's backside.

The bedsit's small and narrow. Sickly pink walls, with paint that’s just starting to peel at the edges. The room’s so tiny in fact that it's not big enough to swing a mouse in, let alone a cat. Not quite the sort place you imagined you’d end up in. I get up and go to the sink at the far end, pick up a glass, let the cold tap run for a moment and fill it with water. I have a good swig. That feels better.

Its getting late so I put on a T shirt and a pair of shorts, pick up my soap, shampoo and towel, and go to the bathroom. Once inside, I have the best shower ever and then stand there for a bit with the water splashing all over me. Then I turn the cold on full and get out of the shower, towelling off before putting my T shirt and shorts on and going back to the bedsit. I put the dirty clothes in a laundry bag, get dressed and leave for work. Its not easy to raise my game.

I get given a hard time when I get there. I'm late. It was obvious I was going to be. I'm feeling well rough when I get to the mail order company where I work. I don’t have to go in every Saturday morning, just every few weeks and its a pain that this is one of them. As soon as I arrive - forty five minutes after I should have - my supervisor calls me into his office. Its obvious what its about. I get up and walk into the secluded territory which is the domain of Mr Mark Harriman, Deputy Account Manager. I’ve been in here before, on more times than I care to mention, and the routine’s always the same. This one follows the usual format.

Harriman’s sitting in his chair, hands on his desk, with a really concerned look on his face. His brow’s furrowed beneath the immaculately styled jet black barnet and he’s staring at me as I walk in, sit down, and begin to stare back. There’s a few moments unnerving interlude before Harriman decides at last to speak.

"Sam", he says. "I've called you in this morning. Because I feel I need to talk to you". He waits for me to acknowledge him. Its not forthcoming. Harriman continues. "You cannot be unaware, Sam, that we expect certain things at this organisation".

"I know, Mr 'arriman. Yeah. I know".

"And one of those things".

"Oh".

"Is a standard of time keeping that is second to none".

"Oh, right".

"Yes, Sam. We do. Of course, we do realise that our staff have commitments outside the company. And we are prepared to allow some latitude at times. But when a member of staff comes in regularly late for no good reason at all, then, well we can't accept it can we".

"Suppose not".

"You suppose not. Well, I suppose not as well. And that member of staff, is you".

"Oh, right".

"You don't look surprised, Sam".

"Nah. Suppose I'm not".

"Well, let me tell you, that we're not going to put up with it. This is a warning. Let it happen again and there will be disciplinary procedures. You are a temporary employee here. Don't forget it".

"Right. There is just one thing".

"Yes?".

"I do feel a bit rough this morning. Haven't been sleeping well, you know. Made me late it did".

"Well, Sam, if you're genuinely ill, then you'd better go home. But if its self inflicted, then, well, we should look at it very seriously. Now, you'd better get back to your job".

I leave Harriman's office. I decided some time ago that when I get a bollocking I’ll just sit and take it – there’s no point in arguing. The dole wouldn't give me much at all if I got the sack. As far as I’m was aware, they'd say that I sacked himself. Things had changed a lot in the last few years. Its not easy to get benefit.

I sit here. I wish I’d not even bothered coming in. I felt so bad when I woke that it’d have been easier just to phone up and tell them that I was ill. Well, I was in a way - Harriman’s self inflicted way. But they wouldn't have been able to prove that it’d been caused by being out drinking. And all that would have happened would have been for me to have a sick day. As it was I was late. A much more cardinal sin.

I don’t feel like staying long. And, after all that, I don’t. I keep having to run off to the toilet as a result of the curry and Harriman begins to get worried. Like he went over the top.

"You feeling all right, Sam?", he asks.

"Yeah", I reply, until, at last, I take my chance. "Nah", I say. "I feel rough. I think I'd better go".

"All right, then", says Harriman. "Get going. And make sure you're right by the start of the week".

"Thanks", I say and walk out of the building and get the first bus back to Lenton. I go to bed.

Its about four when I wake up. I blew my intention of going to the footy but so what. I have to say that I'm feeling a hell of a lot better than I did earlier on. I don't need to go straight to the gents and I feel more alive. Its all right. I sit up in bed and grab my fags. I stick a cd in and start to listen to some soulful sounds like I heard last night. I'll tell you what I'd like - a brew. So I lean out of bed and stick a tea bag in the cup. I turn the kettle on and lie here until steam starts spurting out and it fills the room. I pour the water in the cup. Yeah, that tastes good. Just what I need to get me going. I've got to get myself in the mood for tonight.

The mobile rings. I lean over and pick it up.

"All right, my main man", comes the voice from the mobile. Its Simon. "How you doing".

"Not to bad. Felt like shite this morning. But I feel better now".

"That's all right then. Did you have to go to work?".

"Yeah. Got a bollocking from the boss. But I said I felt crap and he let me come home. I feel fine now".

"Good. Eh, what happened to you lot last night?".

"We went off in search of a party. Did you go?".

"Nah. Went clubbing instead. It was a sound night. Where did you all go?".

"Joey was on about a party. But no one could find it. I should have stayed with you and gone clubbing".

"You're right, Sam. You should. I thought you would have carried on at the bar where I was playing. I mean, you seemed to be getting on all right with that blonde at the bar".

"Oh. Tina“. I don’t want to let onto Simon how I really feel. "She was all right".

"Come on Sam. I saw how you were all over her. You had the hots for her".

"Nah, Si. She was all right, you know, but I wasn't that bothered".

"Aah".

"You know".

"You liar".

"Nah".

"Sam, you're wrong. She was nice. Really nice. And you fancied her. I would have made a move myself if it hadn't been for you. But I'm not going to nag you about it. She’s probably still available. So maybe you'll be able to get in there. What did you think of the music?". I’m relieved at the change of subject.

"Brilliant, Si, brilliant. You’re good".

"Thanks, Sam. I'm glad you liked it. I may have a chance of a few more gigs".

"Sound. Where?".

"Dunno yet. Some bars probably. Maybe a club at some point. We'll have to see".

"Right".

"Anyway, what's going on tonight?".

"Dunno. No one's decided. What do you want to do?".

"Don't mind".

"Say, we meet in Bellamy’s at eight?".

"All right. See you later".

I can't be bothered to move. I like lying here and having a fag and thinking about what's going on. Joey'll be at the match but he'll probably have his mobile with him so I could give him a ring there. Seems the best idea. I dial the number. It rings a few time. Then its answered.

"'ello", says Joey.

"All right, mate. How you doin?".

"All right Sam. Not bad".

"Good one".

"That is apart from the footy".

"You what?".

"Nil nil it is".

"Oh, right".

"It’s as interesting as watching paint dry. Nothing' 'appening' at all. Don‘t think there are going to be any goals".

"Right. That's no good".

"You’re right about that. Any way, How you doin".

"All right now". I tell him the story of this morning and my hangover.

"Ah, right. You should have stayed with us".

"Why?".

"What do you mean why?".

"You know".

"What?".

"You were wandering round last time I saw you?".

"Sam, you should of listened to your uncle Joey. We did find that party. Not long after you went. And it was a good crack. Plenty of women around. You'd have loved it".

"Oh, right. Maybe I should have stayed around then". I laugh. A check in the A to Z this morning indicated that there is no place called Clayman Street.

"To right. OOh".

"What?".

"They nearly went one down then. Anyway, what's happening' later?".

"I spoke to Si. Agreed we'd meet in Bellamy’s".

"All right. See you. Come on".

Sound. Its arranged so all I have to do is have some nosh and get myself ready for the laughs we've got ahead. I force myself out of the bed, sitting naked on it and trying to work out what I'm going to have for my tea. I get up and get some clothes on and open the curtains to the sunlight. I put on my shoes and grab my money. Its got to be a takeaway.

The nearest place I can get anything's at this Chinese on Lenton Boulevard. But on my way out, there's this note that's been pushed under the door. Its from the manager of the bedsits and is going on at me that I've not paid my rent. Always happens, this. I've got the dosh but I just can't be bothered to pay it. Suppose I'd better do something about it. So I get out my cheque book and do the business. I walk down the stairs and stick it in the letter box in the manager's office. Easy. No problem. That'll keep her sweet.

Now its time for nosh. I walk out onto the street and the sunlight's strong and dazzling. Should have brought my sunglasses. It gets better as I walk through Lenton, humming that Green Onions that Simon played last night. Can't get rid of the tune. No problem. Its all right. Soon I'm opposite the Chinese waiting for the traffic to stop so I can cross the road. There. I make a dash between one car and another and the driver in one hoots me so I slow down a bit and he hoots again. I think about running after him but he's gone and I can't be bothered wasting my time on fools like that. There's food to be had. So I walk into the Chinese.

"All right, mate", I say to the bloke behind the counter.

"Hello, there, my friend. And how are you?".

"Not bad, not bad. Yourself?".

"Oh, well. Very well. What do you want?".

"Er, le's see". I look down the menu. "A Chicken Chow Mein".

Just the thing I need to get the muggy feeling away and in the mood for a night drinking. Yeah, that'll do it. I sit and wait and read this tabloid. I light a fag and wait for my food. There are a few students in here. Joey hates students but I don't mind them. I haven't told Joey but I used to be a student myself once until I failed my exams and had to go on the dole. There are a couple of blokes who remind me of me at that time. They're obviously just into going out drinking and having a good time and forget the exams until they have to do them. They'll be out. Another number to the old rock and roll. And so what.

"Your food", yells the bloke. I get up and take it.

"Cheers mate. See you again".

I walk out into the late afternoon and head back to the bedsit. I'm feeling loads better than earlier what with my kip and this. I'm soon home and walk up the stairs just in time to catch the footy results - a nil nil draw just as Joey said it would be. My Chinese is going cold so I tip it onto a plate and eat it sitting on my bed flicking through looking for some music with no luck.
Its getting on. I'll have to get myself ready in a minute so make a coffee and I lie on the bed trying to decide what to wear tonight. Its warm so just a polo shirt and jeans'll do. It has to be the white Levis, no problem, and I reckon the black top with white trim would go down perfect. Yeah, why not. That's it sorted.

First off's a shave. There's quite a bit of bristle there and I need to clean it up. I don't mind a day's growth in the week when you're not doing anything but at the weekend it needs to be smooth and fresh. So out comes the gel which feels loads better as soon as it gets on my face and I rub it into the stubble and wet my razor and start to shave, I watch the skin emerge from underneath the lather and bits of bristle float around in the water that's in the sink. I move the razor across my chin, my neck, my cheeks and have a feel round with my hand, finishing with just places that I missed. There's a couple of bits where I've cut myself and I get some toilet roll and put a piece on each. That'll come off when I shower.

And shower's the next thing. I feel better already but a visit to the bathroom's the best cure there is. So I get my shorts on and take my soap, shampoo and towel to the room opposite. I jump in the shower and let the water splash all over me. Its just right - not too warm, not too hot, and rub the shampoo into my hair. Its sound. When you've got a number two like me, you don't need a lot of shampoo before you start feeling alive. I get the soap and rub it all over me, getting a lather and washing it off. That's it sorted. I turn off the shower, get out and dry off.
I put my shorts on and go back across the landing to the bedsit. I lie down on my bed and put a cd. There's still an hour until I meet the boys so I can take it steady. Who knows who I may see. I'm getting in the mood now.