Night Shift
A nauseating tube ride always proceeds my night shifts.
Travelling underground has always disturbed me, underground is the realm of half blind creatures not a place for men.
Even on Sunday night people fill the carriages, it always amazes me that so many people have something to do at all hours in this filthy city.
Soon my destination arrives have to be first out of the doors, first in the lift and first through the ticket barrier. I'm in no hurry to work, though pathetically these small victories boost my ego. I may not own my home or be driving a BMW but I sure as hell know how to come first on public transport.
Onwards to work for my lonesome night shift. I arrive to be hassled straight away by the residents of the hostel in which I work. "can I have a cup?", "I'm bored" etc.
Don't get me wrong I like helping people, but some of the residents seem to think they're living in the Hyde Park Hilton and I'm some kind of bellboy.
Come one AM and that hostel soon settles down for the night. This is now my time. I surf the net, I read a book, try to stay awake. Working alone at night can't be healthy especially as sleep deprivation does crazy things to your line of thought. Come four AM I'll start believing I've wasted my life and maybe I should become a monk.
Soon daylight appears and birds start to sing. London is revealed anew. Dawn is beautiful, the light has an otherworldly quality. Soon I must fight my way through the rush hour and collapse into the warm embrace of my bed.
Travelling underground has always disturbed me, underground is the realm of half blind creatures not a place for men.
Even on Sunday night people fill the carriages, it always amazes me that so many people have something to do at all hours in this filthy city.
Soon my destination arrives have to be first out of the doors, first in the lift and first through the ticket barrier. I'm in no hurry to work, though pathetically these small victories boost my ego. I may not own my home or be driving a BMW but I sure as hell know how to come first on public transport.
Onwards to work for my lonesome night shift. I arrive to be hassled straight away by the residents of the hostel in which I work. "can I have a cup?", "I'm bored" etc.
Don't get me wrong I like helping people, but some of the residents seem to think they're living in the Hyde Park Hilton and I'm some kind of bellboy.
Come one AM and that hostel soon settles down for the night. This is now my time. I surf the net, I read a book, try to stay awake. Working alone at night can't be healthy especially as sleep deprivation does crazy things to your line of thought. Come four AM I'll start believing I've wasted my life and maybe I should become a monk.
Soon daylight appears and birds start to sing. London is revealed anew. Dawn is beautiful, the light has an otherworldly quality. Soon I must fight my way through the rush hour and collapse into the warm embrace of my bed.
posted by big-gig at 1:10 am
2 Comments:
i remembered waking nightshifts in hoogovens steelworks in ijmuiden, holland in 1974 and the sense of strangeness and alienation that accompanied me into the grey lowland halflight at 6am as i left there aching all over to cycle back to wijk an zee and my lonely bed. One shift i shared a chillum in the break looked around with new eyes at the roof cranes passing overhead carrying 20 ton steel rolls the huge single forked lifts that raced the factory floor carrying same like demented rhinos the hiss and scream of the air tools and realized i'd made a terrible mistake. Like dropping acid in the somme. Wh smiths 1970 walking wearily up the caledonian road in darkness after loading pallettes all night with penguin books for distribution the next day. I was 19 and used to buy a bottle of dr collis brown cough medicine before climbing into a bed just vacated by an actively alcoholic irishman (he regularly wet the bed and the landlady had to change it before i could retire) she threw him out eventually and i got a new one.Occasionally i had a joint and once in a further bid to save money slept in the park all day woke up burnt by the sun where the blanket had slipped. Then london zoo in order to sight see and sleep on a bench. did so in the big cat house covered by an afghan waistcoat and left there smelling indelibly of lion musk and cat piss - like a domestic cat (itself no mean olfactory adversary) times 8.4 light years. Thank fuck i'm not working shifts now. Thanks for reminding me and keep writing. love nick
gig get writing keep writing don't worry what its like and i'll do the same post photos sounds whatever
love nick
ps adams just come in from work and its midnight time for bed colds still there so no work for me tomorrow
love nick
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