Day Eight

Isn't eight a funny word to write? How strange it looks, especially in the lower-case. And especially with that funny g with the hoop under, sat there in the middle like a deformed... eight. I can't quite work out which is the meta-reference to the other, but I'm very certain it is one of them. Very curious. Another nice word to look at, I feel, is globalization. I'm not sure if I prefer it with the s or the z, but I find it very pleasing to look at.

Unfortunately the effects of globalization are quite demonic, but I feel I can balance my adoration for the word 'globalization' out morally by buying fair-trade bananas every now and then. But this is nonsense of course, and not scientific in any true sense. I'm trying to blot out the day you see. Fill my head with rubbish to avoid confronting my true feelings. I'm really rather depressed.

You see, the bank called today. It turns out I am now one-hundred and forty-two pounds in debt. I can't think how, as I haven't really eaten in the last few days, much less ventured outside the house. Something is eating away at my funds and I'm not sure what. The bank told me in no uncertain terms to repay my overdraft, or there'd be charges, and eventually debt-collectors. I explained to them that I was a struggling scientist on the brink of Nobel prize-money, but they were none-the-interested.

I resolved to call Doris and ask her help, but she was out, apparantly for lunch with Donald. Albert filled me in. "Doltsby! You old dog, how are you? I haven't heard from you in ages! Keeping yourself busy? No, my wife is out for lunch with Donald's wife Marticia. What, all this time, then you phone asking for money? Tsk Doltsby. How much? Oh, well, I guess that's okay." etc. He drove round in his Honda and gave me the money. I asked him if he could take me round to the bank, and he sighed and agreed.

The lady is the bank seemed especially pleased to see me. She was dead-set on helping me out in any way she could. By the time I left I had a loan for fifteen-thousand pounds and a shiny credit-card. I decided to use my new wealth to take Albert out for lunch at The Stupid Duck, our local gastro-pub. It was the least I could do after he had sat waiting for me in the car for an hour-and-a-half.

Half way through our bottle of Merlot and Roast-Beef and Yorkshire-Pud, a very strange and positively undesirable thing happened. Albert, usually so affable and chubby, suddenly burst in to tears. "I think my marriage is over" he told me, in a torturously slow manner, punctuated by sobs and sneezes. I told him I needed the toilet and walked home. It turned out to be a bad decision, as it was now raining quite heavily and I had neglected to bring a jacket. Nevertheless, I used the time to think about science, briefly, before remembering I was on strike from it. Darn. After all those hours in bed I had completely forgotten what I was moping about and accidentally got on with real-life when the bank phoned. I resolved to mope when I got home.

And when I did get home, I was provided with all the more reason to mope. Not only had my milk gone sour and lumpy, thus preventing me from truly enjoying my good-coffee, but also I had no mail, and hence no new science-form to fill-in for my science-grant from the Department for Horticulture, Development, and Natural Philosophy. And on top of this, Albert had left a bizarre message on my answer-phone calling me a rotter and a magpie. This I could have delt with, I feel, but then, just as I hung up the phone, I saw a lout wandering aimlessly in the street outside. "What right does he have to lout about in my perfectly nice street?" I thought. Then suddenly, I got a rush of adrenaline. I got a hero-urge.

This lout had to be stopped, and actions speak louder than words, so I banged my window, shook my fist and shouted "Clear off, you yob!" I'm not sure he heard what I had shouted, but he certainly became alerted to my presence. This I know, as he is still outside my house shouting obsenities and throwing stones. How wrong I was to try to be the hero. Hopefully he will go away soon, as after a day like today, I don't really feel up to phoning the police. If he is still there in a half-hour I will offer him some money to go away I think.