When the week just doesn't go the way you want it: featuring Greater Anglia and broken fingers

We all have One of Those Days, but what's worse is when Those Days is actually one of Those Weeks. The Week when the universe, nature, and people all seem to huddle together and conspire to make your life just that bit more stressful and bothersome (I feel like Winnie the Pooh saying that).

Take for example a fortnight ago. I was tired, up early and slightly frazzled. I'd been called at 5:30am to head into London to cover sick leave. I dutifully trotted to the station to get the Hell Train into work. If anyone's ever commuted with Greater Anglia, you'll know what I mean and how there's no exaggeration when I say Hell. So, I chose my ticket, put my card in the machine, punched in my PIN and walked off. Without my tickets. I only realised this when I got to Liverpool Street (five minutes late as usual) and couldn't get out of the barrier.

So, like a good passenger, instead of just winging it and following the crowd through the open gate, I let the revenue control man (ticket police) know my idiotic mistake. Because honesty and policy etc. He issued me a £20 penalty fare, but said I could appeal it. 'Send in your bank statement and they'll get you a refund,' he'd said as he took my money. And too right, I thought. It's not as if I was dodging, I'd just genuinely forgotten. There was proof I'd paid, right?

OH HOW WRONG HE WAS. I got an email saying that because I hadn't travelled with the ticket, my appeal was rejected. So. I'd spend £15 on lost tickets. £20 on a penalty fare. And £15 to get home. Because who doesn't love over-spending £50 on a Monday morning with a train company who wouldn't know the meaning of 'On Time' even if it bent them over a bench and kicked them up the bottom with a suede brogue while singing Ja Rule featuring Ashanti's Always On Time. Fortunately I'm one of those people who doesn't back down easily so I wrote to let them know about this. We'll see if they have any compassion.

The week got worse after that.

I was turning 28. Now officially in my late twenties, I started noticing creases and wrinkles where there were none. A £50 overspend when I'm broke is tolerable. But skin can't be replaced AFAIK.
I all but broke my finger when a woman at work barged into the door of the loos. She didn't even say sorry. And it looked like a sausage for a good few days.
I ripped a hole in my 100 dernier tights. How that even happens is unfathomable. But I did it.

All in all, it was pretty dire. But at least that means it's onwards and upwards from here on in!