(Not) Working Nine to Five

This week marked a new chapter in my London Lesbian life. I started shift working for the first time. No longer must I endure the busy Northern Line trains that trundle into K-Town station packed full of sweaty workers, with little or no room for any attempt at getting on board between the hours of 08.10hrs and 09.30hrs. I have the same privilege when travelling home from my day of work too, this week at either eight or nine o’clock in the evening

Out of hours travelling has a further perk – there are new K-Town lesbians to spot. Today one got on at K-Town station and followed me all the way to Pimlico, where I got off (the tube). Because of the rigid routine of tube travel that I have followed for the past couple of years, I had never seen her before. My new routine of all sorts of random tube travel times will doubtless throw up a plethora of new lesbian obstacles for me to merrily bump into on my way to and from work. What fun!

Another plus of this shift-work thing are the gloriously sunny K-Town mornings that I’ve been able to enjoy this week, in my jeans, in my darkroom, etc. The not-so-plus side is the unexpected fatigue of working such odd hours and the slight feeling of loneliness that comes with being out of synch with the rest of the professional world

For example, I have been unable to play football with my beloved K-Town WFC chums on both Tuesday and Thursday this week. I also missed the associated post-football beers. Nor have I have I seen my girlfriend since last Sunday. In fact I’ve barely been able to coordinate a text message conversation with her.

At the moment I’m sitting at my (rather quiet) desk all by myself while my friends do normal evening things like cook dinner and play football. The keyboard is echoing as I type. The lights keep going out because they are on one of those robotic timers which switches them off if no movement is detected by the office movement-sensor. I’m the only person in the office and the sensor doesn’t deem me sufficiently mobile to warrant illumination. It’s not noticed the action of my hands feverishly typing this text. Even the bloody lights are off duty for the evening.

It’s a solitary life I will lead. That I compared my football team to a baby Conker Tree in an email earlier today, is not a good sign of how this solitude could affect my mind. That any of this might mildly bother me is almost certainly attributable to my PMT hormones running amok, it won’t be a problem next week…

…when I’m on early shifts. So up at the crack and home in broad daylight for me. Can’t wait. A plethora of football, darkroom printing and long luxurious evenings with my pals beckon. Oh, and did I mention the rather generous shift allowance I get for doing these odd hours? I’m a lucky, lucky person. With a 5.15am alarm set for Monday morning.


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