While we were in London to see Prince, we had a look at Canary Wharf, since it was a stone's throw from Greenwich. I used to work there and wanted to show Julie what it was like, even though it's changed a bit since I was there ten years ago.
It's funny how going back somewhere brings things flooding back. I was miserable, hating my job selling advertising for the Independent, and not too keen on wearing a suit and tie either. Every single day seemed to last forever, I did have a laugh in London too but in the end I couldn't wait to leave. I was a different person back then doing the things you would a 23 year old singleton to do in London, it's strange to think of that person, who hadn't made enough mistakes yet to know how little he knew. I do have something common with my old self though.
That's fight. I was angry then, I used every ounce of loathing and hatred for that job to get me through endless interviews, or should I say rejections, for my first agency job.It got me through the Docklands Light Railway (no Jubilee Line then) and living with two stockbrokers who played war games. (The other flatmate helped, an impossibly good looking Frenchman called David who was a runner for a film company. I managed to meet some interesting women thanks to him - basically the friends of his endless supply if love interest - "'Bonjour, I'm Daveeed", was all it took for him).
I'm angry now, frustrated, ready for a fight. So I'm ready to churn up some lengths in the pool, I'm going to do my job twice as well as ever before, and Marcus Brown is about to find out what happens when you mess with an angry Yorkshireman. Rage can be destructive, but if you can control is, it provides the energy to go that little bit further, just a bit faster, be just a bit better.