I’m back in a fecking frigid Pompey.
My Beloved Spurs won!
I believe I’ve overcome my Jonah-dom by watching wearing my retro shirt and my flat cap backwards.
Although, this look doesn’t agree with everyone.
Sassy asked why I looked like I should be in ‘90’s boy band.
I can leave it un-remarked no longer.
Housemate Pat has THE most hideous, hacking, phlegm shifting, lung wrenching, drag up your toenails cough I have ever heard.
I suggested to the other housemates that she might be Tubercular.
Allegedly, I wasn’t using my quite voice.
I didn’t fucking care, I HAVEN’T had a BCG injection.
Being treated for TB is not high on my ‘to do’ list.
I try and avoid antibiotics if I can.
I’m saving those for when I have to go into a NHS hospital and my wounds are swabbed with the toilet brush.
I also learned not to ask if someone’s wife is insured if their brother has dropped dead aged 38.
Apparently it is not ‘the done thing’ to enquire, even if it seems like the most obvious question in the world.
Ho hum… You live, you learn.
5 comments:
You have a quiet voice? Who knew?
She's got to go, she's just got to bloody go.
I don't remember ever feeling cold in Sleepy Mansions, although I'm fairly sure Fratton Station has a weather system all to itself.
Hasn't she?! Trouble is, her rent pays for my ciggies.
It's cold no longer!
Heating went straight on.
Fratton is on a Hell Mouth or something, I'm sure of it.
Mate, I didn't realised it was that bad! At least she didn't cough in your face!
Crisp-e.. LOL! No, the face coughing is yours and yours alone!
It's horrific. I swear to Christ if I hear her spit, I'll throw her out of the house in what ever she is wearing at the time.
Her stuff will follow via an upstairs window.
Filth.
Spit! LOL! Hacking makes me angry!
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