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I want to be a writer. Yes that’s what I want, to write all day and live the intellectual life. Money is not the answer to everything, no, no it’s not. I want to live in the wild and have only the bare essentials to hand, live with nature and nothing more. But money would be nice; maybe I should start investing, yes perfect. I’ll invest, become a banker, make quick money and then have the time to be a writer in the wild. OK this is good, let’s plan. But nobody likes a banker, what if I become corrupted and hate myself; I'm not a selfish person. Are bankers selfish? They have to be to make that kind of money right? I hate Samantha. Fucking idiot. If she deals me one more shitty assignment I swear to God…It’s too early. Too many human beings in this carriage. I wonder what the woman who announces the stations looks like…Shit I’m on the opposite side to where the doors will open. This’ll be fun. ‘’Sorry can I just…sorry. Sorry’’

‘’Fucking sheep’’ I thought to myself as I stumbled onto the platform at Marble Arch. It was 7.33am by the time on my Casio watch-my job doesn't pay too well- and I followed the queue of people to exit this underground hell.

The Park Lane exit led to street level and I breathed in the rain. It was always summertime on the tubes, and I was thankful for the cool air. I wonder what I can do today to piss off Samantha. Business men strolled passed, phones to ears, making deals and thinking how to spend their money. Monday is a bad day. The beginning of the week, the furthest away from the weekend you can get. Those two precious days where you do the things you want to do, instead of what others want you to do.

‘’Any change, sir’’ said a heap of blankets and a sleeping bag, ‘’God bless, have a good day’’. I never gave him change. He still wished me a good day. I wonder what he would wish for if I was to give him something. My office block was a five minute walk from the station and the closer I got to those four walls the more an overwhelming dread hung over me like fog, and the inevitable day of monotonous screen watching would begin. My mood had changed, this morning in the shower I was determined to start the day with an outlook of optimism; it was as if the water washed away the negative thoughts which constantly threatened to creep into my skin. But like the water, my optimism soon dried up. ‘’Morning James, how are you feeling? You look like you need a good sleep’’ she snorted as she finished her quip, almost choking on her morning cream cake, the thick smell of coffee and cigarettes enveloped my face and clung like a sickly mask. ‘’Morning Jan, tell me about it’’ I replied, including a laugh to ensure both of us that the morning pleasantries had gone well. My mind screamed.