There is something nagging...

Do you ever have that feeling that beneath the surface, under that thick layer that acts as your buffer to the world, there is something nagging at you? It gnaws subconsciously like a small itch - you always know it is there and it is hard to ignore. I have had that feeling for about two weeks now. I do think of myself as self-aware and I wonder if perhaps other people experience similar feelings constantly but choose (consciously or sub-consciously) to ignore it. It is simply a feeling that something is not right...

The funny thing about life is that it is often impossible to rationally explain away the feelings we experience. I like to sit and muse on them, and then prescribe rational causes in the hope that it will make everything better - for example, I have sat recently and said to myself 'you have just left university, your life has changed, you have started a new job, you have left your friend base in Brighton and have not yet re-established that work/friend balance that is the key to sanity in your new life"...blah blah blah...Presto! I have solved the problem, now what? not so fast. Once these feelings have been given a good dose of rationale, the brain still likes to lay out its cognitive complexities - put simply: the irrational will always win out. I can stand there when my heart is pounding and wonder 'why am I anxious?' and I can confidently conclude that there is no problem, but then I realize that I have to just let it be - eventually the irrational mind will catch up.

So, having said all this, it is in fact true to say that on face value life is swell at the moment. I am on Jury Service. Here you would expect me to be able to relate many interesting anecdotes about the whole process, including the intimate insight that I must be gaining into the court system. Unfortunately, I have spent the first 2 and a bit days sitting in an airport-style waiting lounge where time seems to stop completely and everything in the vicinity dulls into the same grey never-ending pallour.

On the first day I arrived at 9.00am to be shown a DVD with all the information we required on court procedure and an explanation of the civic importance of jury service. I then sat. And waited. I read my book, played tetris 400 times, read Time Out from cover to cover, had lunch, and continued to sit.

Eventually at 3.30 my name was called! I hurried to a register call and was escorted down with 18 others to a court room. Inside we found a modern court and lots of bewigged individuals. The court clerk then read out 12 names randomly from the jury list and unfortunately I was not one of them. I was sent back upstairs where I was told I could leave.

The following day was much the same, except that when my name was called, it was simply to be told I could go home. (This was 5 hours after I had arrived.) On Friday I arrived at 10.15 am. I was told I could leave at 10.40am. I look on the bright side -it was a sunny day and I was free for the whole afternoon to play!

Despite my above explanation of what must seem like jaw-slackening boredom, Jury Service is very interesting. It is unique in that you are put together with a comprehensive and wide-ranging selection of society - people from all walks of life in one room, speaking to people they would perhaps never speak to normally. And oh my do they speak! forget the famous eye-averted etiquette of the London Underground -everyone's blabbing away here and in a way that reaffirms in one's mind that the majority of people are sane and pleasant individuals.

I do however hope that next week I am assigned to a trial because there is only so much sitting around I can contentedly take before I start to sway back and forth with a demented fixed gaze. Watch this space.

Monday evening, an average day at work - except I narrowly avoided being consumed by a giant pelican in St James Park at lunch. A more intensely zombified Monday than the usual head-lolling stupor, I got up this morning to take Marc to Clapham Junction at 6.00AM - for a 23 year old who is still trying desperately to come to grips with non-student hours, I consider that a remarkable achievement.

So as I sit at my desk quietly astonished that my head is still balancing after 16 hours on the go, I put finger to keypad and try to heave up something interesting from my bleary whirl of thoughts. Spent Saturday enjoying what could be one of the last great sunny outdoor days. Now it's blowy and decidedly hostile out there. I have already started to make some nice comforting autumn food - cauliflower cheese with a generous sprinkle of nutmeg kept me cosy on Saturday. But defiantly I cling still to summer -I went to McDonalds (a place you won't find me often) and bought chocolate ice cream and sat on the King's Road slurping away to the sunset (and a fit topless builder...) and as my mind trails off into a moment of glazed wonder, I recollect myself and give a little jig - water is needed.

I have sat here for 3 minutes now thinking of something else to write. I have come to the conclusion that I am indeed very tired and that writing something is better than writing nothing. I am going to stagger the two feet or so that makes up the walk to my bed, I will climb in and gratefully become oblivious to that mad world for another night. Oh I can't wait. Good Night.