Everything has gone a bit dog shit.
While trying to sort out the security on the Wi-Fi I managed to lock everybody out.
Which is probably fine for anyone else but I have absolutely no clue what I’m doing with a computer.
I had to get hold of Ex Housemate Mikey and get him to talk me through it.
Even then it was being a fucker.
Next, I haven’t slept in 36 hours and I’m starting to get a little snappy and impatient.
To fucking top it off; during the Witching Hour this morning it became apparent that I have a vicious cold.
Horrible, unproductive cough that’s given me a sore throat; and a skull full of endless gallons of snot.
Our complaints have made our local paper.
Silly us for not understanding that trees have ‘a finite life’.
So how long are the new ones going to last I wonder.
This has pissed me off.
A Mum and a Dad?
Well, perhaps if you’d kept the fucking needle out of your arm and had a clue who had sired them they’d have a Mum and Dad.
Skaghead scum.
I've watched the first two new episodes of Shameless.
Episode 1 has to have THE best TV Baptism I have ever seen!
Favourite Frank line, “I’ve got the face I deserve son..”
Friday, January 30, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Competitions And Checkouts
Entries 173 - 180 are our very own Crisp-e’s!
Check it out people, three in the final.
Some of us are going to the ‘first night’ with him and Mrs Crisp-e.
I think our job is to drink whatever is free, slag off the competition, intimidate the judges and ‘encourage’ people to buy his stuff.
Unless my understanding of Moral Support is off base.
Fortunately Dave the Artist will be there and he knows how to behave at such things.
Although I fear it will end up feeling like a school trip with the ‘challenging’ children for him.
Why do they insist on making me a criminal?
For some of us, it’s only the weed that prevents us from committing murders!
I wouldn’t sleep AT ALL and would have to be medicated with man made shit.
With all the various contraindications they come with, ‘serious psychosis’ included.
It’s not like I don’t know the risks.
I saw what weed did to my Bi Polar brother in law.
What he was smoking was not the problem in itself, being an undiagnosed manic depressive was.
It just exacerbated an underlying mental condition NOT caused it.
It’s mainly the overuse of ‘Richard’ that does it for me!
Those of you who do, could you offer one up for The Sainted Mammy and The Nutty Daddy away in the ‘Wesht’ of Ireland.
He is in respite care at the moment to give TSM a break.
It is now time for her to seriously think about full time care for him.
I can’t imagine how hard having to make that decision is especially as it’s their 50th anniversary in March.
Since being in the care home TND has added some new behaviours to his Alzheimer’s CV.
Head butting and spitting! The head butting cracked me up!
Almost as much as when he started blowing his nose in the curtains.
That one repeated one me for days.
Also one for my mate Smudger who died yesterday.
The cancer hit hard and took him fast.
A dear and wise friend, who did his best to teach me how to ‘play the game’ when working in a school where the head is a cunt.
Martin Smith, you were a gentleman and I’ll miss you.
Check it out people, three in the final.
Some of us are going to the ‘first night’ with him and Mrs Crisp-e.
I think our job is to drink whatever is free, slag off the competition, intimidate the judges and ‘encourage’ people to buy his stuff.
Unless my understanding of Moral Support is off base.
Fortunately Dave the Artist will be there and he knows how to behave at such things.
Although I fear it will end up feeling like a school trip with the ‘challenging’ children for him.
Why do they insist on making me a criminal?
For some of us, it’s only the weed that prevents us from committing murders!
I wouldn’t sleep AT ALL and would have to be medicated with man made shit.
With all the various contraindications they come with, ‘serious psychosis’ included.
It’s not like I don’t know the risks.
I saw what weed did to my Bi Polar brother in law.
What he was smoking was not the problem in itself, being an undiagnosed manic depressive was.
It just exacerbated an underlying mental condition NOT caused it.
It’s mainly the overuse of ‘Richard’ that does it for me!
Those of you who do, could you offer one up for The Sainted Mammy and The Nutty Daddy away in the ‘Wesht’ of Ireland.
He is in respite care at the moment to give TSM a break.
It is now time for her to seriously think about full time care for him.
I can’t imagine how hard having to make that decision is especially as it’s their 50th anniversary in March.
Since being in the care home TND has added some new behaviours to his Alzheimer’s CV.
Head butting and spitting! The head butting cracked me up!
Almost as much as when he started blowing his nose in the curtains.
That one repeated one me for days.
Also one for my mate Smudger who died yesterday.
The cancer hit hard and took him fast.
A dear and wise friend, who did his best to teach me how to ‘play the game’ when working in a school where the head is a cunt.
Martin Smith, you were a gentleman and I’ll miss you.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Sunday 25 January 2009
I’ve had a good day.My sister dropped round and I got to spend some time with my nephew.
He is nine months old now and mildly interesting. They're no use to me until they are about two and a half, three.
We noticed today that he has the same mad double crown thing going on with his hair as I do.
It was nice, it made me feel a bit more connected to him.
Like all the other boys in my family he is a great little cuddler.
The girls all give the impression they wouldn’t piss up your arse if your kidneys were on fire and have done since the moment they were born.
There is a family story that we are descended from the last Viking King of Scotland.
(Probably a load of bollocks like most of these stories!)
The last one dying around 1905. The family story goes that at his funeral, which was a full on burn the fecker in a boat affair, a riot broke out.
It made the papers because it was the women of the family who were punching out the police left right and centre, not the men.
Funnily enough I don’t think this bit is bollocks!
You just got to love the ‘Christianity’ of the Catholic Church.
Take away from the poor just to prove a fucking point to one man?
Yeah, I’m sure that’s just what Jesus would have done.
Why am I at all surprised that a Pope with a Nazi past would ‘pardon’ this prick?
Fat fuckers need to stay away from me; I’m obviously susceptible to infection.
Would I be protected if I surrounded myself with anorexics?
Fat fuckers need to stay away from me; I’m obviously susceptible to infection.
Would I be protected if I surrounded myself with anorexics?
At least I have the new series of Shameless to look forward to this week.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
21st January 2009
I know I shouldn’t laugh but I don’t care.
The fact that he is French is just the icing!
A fucking Poodle too! Man’s dog that.
I hate Poodles, absolutely detest them. Especially the big bastards.
One got hold of me when I was about 8 and humped me to ‘satisfaction’, his, most certainly not mine.
Imagine having to go home and explain why you have dog spunk all over your back.
Not one of the most comfortable conversations I’ve ever had with my Grandparents.
Also, being eight I didn’t really have the knowledge or vocabulary to be clear as to what had happened so it took a couple of attempts.
I do know I never saw those clothes again and I fucking hate dogs with Afros.
This evening I cooked Carrot and Honey soup. Very easy and very tasty.
I managed to fill and I mean FILL the house with smoke while trying to use the ‘Chargrill’ frying pan.
Fucking thing.
For the first time I was glad I’d smashed up the smoke alarm with a hammer.
Oversensitive fucker.
If it were ‘alive’ it would still be screaming like a chimp on fire.
My Beloved Spurs almost gave me a heart attack this evening.
Bastards!
Creepy.
The fact that he is French is just the icing!
A fucking Poodle too! Man’s dog that.
I hate Poodles, absolutely detest them. Especially the big bastards.
One got hold of me when I was about 8 and humped me to ‘satisfaction’, his, most certainly not mine.
Imagine having to go home and explain why you have dog spunk all over your back.
Not one of the most comfortable conversations I’ve ever had with my Grandparents.
Also, being eight I didn’t really have the knowledge or vocabulary to be clear as to what had happened so it took a couple of attempts.
I do know I never saw those clothes again and I fucking hate dogs with Afros.
This evening I cooked Carrot and Honey soup. Very easy and very tasty.
I managed to fill and I mean FILL the house with smoke while trying to use the ‘Chargrill’ frying pan.
Fucking thing.
For the first time I was glad I’d smashed up the smoke alarm with a hammer.
Oversensitive fucker.
If it were ‘alive’ it would still be screaming like a chimp on fire.
My Beloved Spurs almost gave me a heart attack this evening.
Bastards!
Creepy.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
20th January 2009
The Aliens Rd trees have had a stay of execution.
Sassy has been a brilliant email fiend and totally mobbed the councillors.
Most of the street seems to have mobilised in one way or another.
However, not everyone wants to save the trees.
They drop leaves on the cars. What a fucking shock that is.
I watched the Inauguration today, mainly because I felt I should.
A momentous historical moment and all that.
Give it a fortnight and we’ll be sick to fecking death of Barack H Obama.
If I had any money at all I’d be on this like a shot!
It would pay for itself in rentals in no time.
Sassy has been a brilliant email fiend and totally mobbed the councillors.
Most of the street seems to have mobilised in one way or another.
However, not everyone wants to save the trees.
They drop leaves on the cars. What a fucking shock that is.
I watched the Inauguration today, mainly because I felt I should.
A momentous historical moment and all that.
Give it a fortnight and we’ll be sick to fecking death of Barack H Obama.
If I had any money at all I’d be on this like a shot!
It would pay for itself in rentals in no time.
Friday, January 16, 2009
It Looks Like War
Guerrilla leafleters were out and about last night.
Posters have appeared on the trees of Aliens Rd rallying us to save them ALL from being cut down.
Having thought about it and after some consultation with Dad, I’ve decided that taking the tree down may cause more damage to Sleepy Mansions than leaving it there.
The house already leans noticeably to the right so fuck knows what dying, shrinking roots would do.
Probably make it collapse in on itself like the Money Pit that it is.
So I ‘phoned the number on the poster to find out what was going on.
I got through to Shirley McSurly at the council helpdesk.
Fucking misnomer that.
It went like this.
“Good Morning, could you tell me what is happening to the trees in Aliens Rd please?”
Huge sigh, then she started to talk.
From her tone and pitch I could tell this wasn’t her first call of the day on the subject, so I stopped her.
“Stop. Just tell me, are ALL of the trees being cut down?”
Huge sigh,
‘No-ah. Just the diseased, the dangerous and those causing damage to property’.
“What if cutting the trees down actually causes damage to my property? What happens then?”
‘You’d have to take that up with Colas.’
“Why have we only been given a week’s notice that works were going to occur but no mention that trees were going to be cut down? Is that so we couldn’t do anything about it?”
‘You were informed in December that this was happening.’
“Liar! I have the letter in front of me dated the 9th of January!”
‘You were….’
“Liar!”
‘If you continue to be aggressive I will hang up on you.’
Talk about a red rag!
I was almost biting my knuckle with effort to keep ‘it’ in.
I couldn’t.
“Fucking Liars!”
She hung up.
Later in the afternoon Colas people turned up, looked at the posters and spoke on mobile phones.
I tried to speak to one of them but they were having none of it and were in their van and gone pretty swiftish.
Sassy found out from her emails to our local Councillors that 12 of the 15 trees along the road are marked for death.
Not good.
Housemate Pat is home.
Today she cooked something that smelled so rank, I puked in the sink seconds after walking in to the kitchen.
“You sick?” she said.
‘Er, fucking YES!’
“You eat something bad?”
‘No! I smelled something bad!’
She laughed at my little ‘joke’ and trundled off upstairs with her bowl of slurry.
I’m fighting my every instinct to hide the saucepans.
It’s about time someone said something.
Fucking knob.
Where’s a Muslim fundamentalist when you need one?
Best text of the day was from a train using Sassy,
‘Goats! Fucking Goats at Kentish Town!’
Posters have appeared on the trees of Aliens Rd rallying us to save them ALL from being cut down.
Having thought about it and after some consultation with Dad, I’ve decided that taking the tree down may cause more damage to Sleepy Mansions than leaving it there.
The house already leans noticeably to the right so fuck knows what dying, shrinking roots would do.
Probably make it collapse in on itself like the Money Pit that it is.
So I ‘phoned the number on the poster to find out what was going on.
I got through to Shirley McSurly at the council helpdesk.
Fucking misnomer that.
It went like this.
“Good Morning, could you tell me what is happening to the trees in Aliens Rd please?”
Huge sigh, then she started to talk.
From her tone and pitch I could tell this wasn’t her first call of the day on the subject, so I stopped her.
“Stop. Just tell me, are ALL of the trees being cut down?”
Huge sigh,
‘No-ah. Just the diseased, the dangerous and those causing damage to property’.
“What if cutting the trees down actually causes damage to my property? What happens then?”
‘You’d have to take that up with Colas.’
“Why have we only been given a week’s notice that works were going to occur but no mention that trees were going to be cut down? Is that so we couldn’t do anything about it?”
‘You were informed in December that this was happening.’
“Liar! I have the letter in front of me dated the 9th of January!”
‘You were….’
“Liar!”
‘If you continue to be aggressive I will hang up on you.’
Talk about a red rag!
I was almost biting my knuckle with effort to keep ‘it’ in.
I couldn’t.
“Fucking Liars!”
She hung up.
Later in the afternoon Colas people turned up, looked at the posters and spoke on mobile phones.
I tried to speak to one of them but they were having none of it and were in their van and gone pretty swiftish.
Sassy found out from her emails to our local Councillors that 12 of the 15 trees along the road are marked for death.
Not good.
Housemate Pat is home.
Today she cooked something that smelled so rank, I puked in the sink seconds after walking in to the kitchen.
“You sick?” she said.
‘Er, fucking YES!’
“You eat something bad?”
‘No! I smelled something bad!’
She laughed at my little ‘joke’ and trundled off upstairs with her bowl of slurry.
I’m fighting my every instinct to hide the saucepans.
It’s about time someone said something.
Fucking knob.
Where’s a Muslim fundamentalist when you need one?
Best text of the day was from a train using Sassy,
‘Goats! Fucking Goats at Kentish Town!’
Thursday, January 15, 2009
A Funeral, A Wake And An Advert
I attended my first ever Non-Religious funeral.
I always thought that’d be the kind of thing I would go for.
It’s not.
I’ve surprised myself and decided I want a little bit of ritual.
Lovely things were said, nice music played and poems read but to me it didn’t feel like we had ‘sent her off’, it didn’t feel right.
She was also in a coffin that looked like a picnic basket.
Apparently it’s rude to ask if there are plates in the lid or if there is a Tupperware lining!
I considered them perfectly justified seeing as I had just had to endure Il Divo singing My Way.
Another thing I had never seen before were people taking photos of the coffin.
It struck me as a bit macabre and I wondered where you would display snaps like that.
Brighton was fucking freezing.
It was sunny but didn’t seem to warm up at all during the day.
I always forget how frigging hilly it is too.
The Wake was like no Wake I’ve ever been to.
They usually live up to the stereotype,
“What’s the difference between an Irish wedding and an Irish funeral? One less drunken Irishman.”
This had to be the most abstemious send off I’ve ever been to.
When they eventually let us in to the pub (they forgot we were coming) I bowled up to the bar and got a double Brandy in.
I was cold!
She then served up 40 teas and coffees while I disappeared for a smoke and tried not to look like a total piss head.
Then there were the old people who were convinced they knew me.
I get this a lot. I’ve got one of ‘those’ faces.
One old bloke even put his arm round me, pulled me in to a circle of coffin dodgers and said,
“I can’t remember the last time I saw this one”.
Looking for help from the people I DID know was pointless, they were all cracked up in a corner, waving.
I told the Oldies there was a Whiskey for the first one who could remember who I was and got the hell away from them.
My most hated advert at the moment is the one that goes on about ‘Restoring the balance of natural vaginal flora’.
Fucking Flora? There’d better not be!
Flora is foliage for Christ’s sake, unless, of course I have misunderstood the use of the word Bush for all these years.
Possible, but unlikely!
I always thought that’d be the kind of thing I would go for.
It’s not.
I’ve surprised myself and decided I want a little bit of ritual.
Lovely things were said, nice music played and poems read but to me it didn’t feel like we had ‘sent her off’, it didn’t feel right.
She was also in a coffin that looked like a picnic basket.
Apparently it’s rude to ask if there are plates in the lid or if there is a Tupperware lining!
I considered them perfectly justified seeing as I had just had to endure Il Divo singing My Way.
Another thing I had never seen before were people taking photos of the coffin.
It struck me as a bit macabre and I wondered where you would display snaps like that.
Brighton was fucking freezing.
It was sunny but didn’t seem to warm up at all during the day.
I always forget how frigging hilly it is too.
The Wake was like no Wake I’ve ever been to.
They usually live up to the stereotype,
“What’s the difference between an Irish wedding and an Irish funeral? One less drunken Irishman.”
This had to be the most abstemious send off I’ve ever been to.
When they eventually let us in to the pub (they forgot we were coming) I bowled up to the bar and got a double Brandy in.
I was cold!
She then served up 40 teas and coffees while I disappeared for a smoke and tried not to look like a total piss head.
Then there were the old people who were convinced they knew me.
I get this a lot. I’ve got one of ‘those’ faces.
One old bloke even put his arm round me, pulled me in to a circle of coffin dodgers and said,
“I can’t remember the last time I saw this one”.
Looking for help from the people I DID know was pointless, they were all cracked up in a corner, waving.
I told the Oldies there was a Whiskey for the first one who could remember who I was and got the hell away from them.
My most hated advert at the moment is the one that goes on about ‘Restoring the balance of natural vaginal flora’.
Fucking Flora? There’d better not be!
Flora is foliage for Christ’s sake, unless, of course I have misunderstood the use of the word Bush for all these years.
Possible, but unlikely!
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
A Lesson Learned
The lesson of the day.
It’s probably best not to have your hair cut by a man who has,
“Just seen that bitch (soon to be ex wife) in Waitrose buying ice! Buying ice! But tells me she has no money for the kids. Doesn’t the fucking freezer make ice?”
Fortunately he started with the clippers and had calmed down a bit before it was time for scissors.
He caught my ear twice but assured me he would leave it on.
I thanked him, explaining what a boon two are for one who wears glasses.
Complaining wasn’t really an option considering I had negotiated the price down to a gents cut.
Arguing that clippers made it quicker and I didn’t want it washed, so it didn’t warrant the arse rapey women’s price.
I think I’ll stick with him because as wound up as he was he still noticed, and mentioned, every peculiarity with my hair.
‘Whoa! Wicked double crown!’
‘Ooh! You have a weird thing going on at the back here’
‘Christ! A cowlick at the front too!’
I think he’s done a good job, I smell like ‘chemicals’ and my hair is stiff but it only cost me £19.
I had coffee with Janis this afternoon.
What I really love about this whole blog thing is that it makes it feel it wasn’t ages ago I last saw her.
Vancouver doesn’t seem that far away.
We just sat down at the table with our mugs and ‘picked up’ a conversation.
Love it.
Tomorrow I am going on an ‘Away Mission’ to a funeral in Brighton.
I didn’t know the dead person but I’m going as moral support for someone who did.
It’s going to be an opportunity for a Social Anthropology study.
Apparently the family is just as dysfunctional as mine.
Should be an interesting trip.
I’ll report back with my findings.
As you were.
It’s probably best not to have your hair cut by a man who has,
“Just seen that bitch (soon to be ex wife) in Waitrose buying ice! Buying ice! But tells me she has no money for the kids. Doesn’t the fucking freezer make ice?”
Fortunately he started with the clippers and had calmed down a bit before it was time for scissors.
He caught my ear twice but assured me he would leave it on.
I thanked him, explaining what a boon two are for one who wears glasses.
Complaining wasn’t really an option considering I had negotiated the price down to a gents cut.
Arguing that clippers made it quicker and I didn’t want it washed, so it didn’t warrant the arse rapey women’s price.
I think I’ll stick with him because as wound up as he was he still noticed, and mentioned, every peculiarity with my hair.
‘Whoa! Wicked double crown!’
‘Ooh! You have a weird thing going on at the back here’
‘Christ! A cowlick at the front too!’
I think he’s done a good job, I smell like ‘chemicals’ and my hair is stiff but it only cost me £19.
I had coffee with Janis this afternoon.
What I really love about this whole blog thing is that it makes it feel it wasn’t ages ago I last saw her.
Vancouver doesn’t seem that far away.
We just sat down at the table with our mugs and ‘picked up’ a conversation.
Love it.
Tomorrow I am going on an ‘Away Mission’ to a funeral in Brighton.
I didn’t know the dead person but I’m going as moral support for someone who did.
It’s going to be an opportunity for a Social Anthropology study.
Apparently the family is just as dysfunctional as mine.
Should be an interesting trip.
I’ll report back with my findings.
As you were.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Boots, Noise And A Tune
I had to buy some new walking boots.
The last pair lasted nine years but as I took my foot out of one of them last week, I disembowelled it.
Everything that was supposed to be inside it, wasn’t.
Because they had lasted so well I decided to go for the same brand again.
I’m one of those loyal idiots.
Check ‘em out!
I only paid £34 for them.
Thank Christ for child sized feet and their VAT free status.
For 15 minutes this evening someone tried to start a car right outside.
A noise that drives me mental.
It sounded like somebody was sawing steel girders and because I refuse to get rid of the wooden sash windows, they may as well have been in the living room with me.
I was just about to lose the plot, open the front door and scream,
“You’ve flooded it, you pointless twat!”, when the fucker started.
This meant another ten minutes of, ‘revving’.
Starting on the 19th the council are going to be ‘undertaking major tree works’ in my road.
Whatever they may be.
For four days, between 9.30 and 3.30 there will be no parking in the street at all.
I don’t drive so it doesn’t bother me but I can’t wait to see the street car free.
If they wanted to chop down the tree right outside my gate I wouldn’t be too upset.
Frigging thing drops leaves everywhere and I’m convinced it’s undermining the foundations of the house.
This is my tune of the day.
The last pair lasted nine years but as I took my foot out of one of them last week, I disembowelled it.
Everything that was supposed to be inside it, wasn’t.
Because they had lasted so well I decided to go for the same brand again.
I’m one of those loyal idiots.
Check ‘em out!
I only paid £34 for them.
Thank Christ for child sized feet and their VAT free status.
For 15 minutes this evening someone tried to start a car right outside.
A noise that drives me mental.
It sounded like somebody was sawing steel girders and because I refuse to get rid of the wooden sash windows, they may as well have been in the living room with me.
I was just about to lose the plot, open the front door and scream,
“You’ve flooded it, you pointless twat!”, when the fucker started.
This meant another ten minutes of, ‘revving’.
Starting on the 19th the council are going to be ‘undertaking major tree works’ in my road.
Whatever they may be.
For four days, between 9.30 and 3.30 there will be no parking in the street at all.
I don’t drive so it doesn’t bother me but I can’t wait to see the street car free.
If they wanted to chop down the tree right outside my gate I wouldn’t be too upset.
Frigging thing drops leaves everywhere and I’m convinced it’s undermining the foundations of the house.
This is my tune of the day.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Tequila Madness
Today I have been mostly wanting to die after forgetting how fucking hideous a Wine, Tequila and Rum hangover is.
Some of The Mob were being entertained by Mr & Mrs Crisp-e last evening.
A brilliant night.
We ate the tenderest, juiciest leg of lamb. I love lamb; it’s one of my favourite things to eat.
Mad Matt and Mrs Mad Matt were out to play and so was the Big little Brother.
We scoffed, smoked, drank and laughed a lot.
I took a load of photos of the massive moon and us enjoying ourselves, then promptly deleted the fucking lot.
I was so fecking pissed off I could have bitten myself.
Just thinking about it now causes my stomach to knot up.
Especially as I had taken an absolute blinder of Mrs Crisp-e.
Grrrr!
This got my grin on today.
Some of The Mob were being entertained by Mr & Mrs Crisp-e last evening.
A brilliant night.
We ate the tenderest, juiciest leg of lamb. I love lamb; it’s one of my favourite things to eat.
Mad Matt and Mrs Mad Matt were out to play and so was the Big little Brother.
We scoffed, smoked, drank and laughed a lot.
I took a load of photos of the massive moon and us enjoying ourselves, then promptly deleted the fucking lot.
I was so fecking pissed off I could have bitten myself.
Just thinking about it now causes my stomach to knot up.
Especially as I had taken an absolute blinder of Mrs Crisp-e.
Grrrr!
This got my grin on today.
Friday, January 09, 2009
Toast And Ice
Today, I have mostly cooked.
I have cut Carbohydrates out of my diet and I’m suffering.
It would seem I have a serious Carb Habit.
I would commit murder for a couple of slices of toast and Marmite.
Sadly, I have even coveted Housemate Claire’s diabetic bread.
I’ve made French Onion Soup and a Beef Sausage and Butternut Squash Casserole.
It didn’t get above -2 in the Sleepy Mansions garden all day today.
I had to take a hammer to the ice on the pond and managed to fucking cut myself on it.
The ice, not the hammer.
It was my intention to plant the garlic but once I got out there I was distracted and ended up pruning the Plum tree.
The earth has frozen solid so there is icy cat shit all over the place.
Most pleasant.
My highlight came while out collecting rent. There were some of his mates there with him.
As I waited for payment I asked what they were watching.
A young man who looked like he had been slightly starved of oxygen at birth told me,
“The Diary of Anne Frank innit”
“Oh,” I said “I’m not watching that, I know how it ends.”
He looked at me and in all seriousness said,
“Ah right, have you seen it before then?”
I studied him for hints of humour, there were none.
The brother in law just shook his head and I grinned all the way home.
I have cut Carbohydrates out of my diet and I’m suffering.
It would seem I have a serious Carb Habit.
I would commit murder for a couple of slices of toast and Marmite.
Sadly, I have even coveted Housemate Claire’s diabetic bread.
I’ve made French Onion Soup and a Beef Sausage and Butternut Squash Casserole.
It didn’t get above -2 in the Sleepy Mansions garden all day today.
I had to take a hammer to the ice on the pond and managed to fucking cut myself on it.
The ice, not the hammer.
It was my intention to plant the garlic but once I got out there I was distracted and ended up pruning the Plum tree.
The earth has frozen solid so there is icy cat shit all over the place.
Most pleasant.
My highlight came while out collecting rent. There were some of his mates there with him.
As I waited for payment I asked what they were watching.
A young man who looked like he had been slightly starved of oxygen at birth told me,
“The Diary of Anne Frank innit”
“Oh,” I said “I’m not watching that, I know how it ends.”
He looked at me and in all seriousness said,
“Ah right, have you seen it before then?”
I studied him for hints of humour, there were none.
The brother in law just shook his head and I grinned all the way home.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
January 8th 2009
I am convinced that there is a Bail Hostel or some sort of ‘Care in the Community’ house a few doors along from me.
The men and it’s only men, who live there are middle aged and clothed in donated chic.
The residents seem to change pretty regularly, every six months or so.
They are in and out all day long. Returning with random bits of shopping.
A bag of spuds and milk then an hour or so later they’ll go out and get a bottle of coke.
This leads me to believe that they have been ‘institutionalized’ in some way.
1. They like to get out a lot.
2. They have no idea how to shop.
Then I got to wondering how I would find out if there was sort of facility in the street.
It appears there is no way to find out.
A couple of questions.
Firstly, why, once you mop the floor, does it become your floor?
“Fuck’s sake! Get off MY floor I’ve just washed it!”
I had a bout of that today.
Secondly, am I the only one who washes the mop head? Takes it off and boils it up kind of wash it?
I only ask to see if these things are general or if I have been ‘channelling’ my Grandmother all afternoon.
The men and it’s only men, who live there are middle aged and clothed in donated chic.
The residents seem to change pretty regularly, every six months or so.
They are in and out all day long. Returning with random bits of shopping.
A bag of spuds and milk then an hour or so later they’ll go out and get a bottle of coke.
This leads me to believe that they have been ‘institutionalized’ in some way.
1. They like to get out a lot.
2. They have no idea how to shop.
Then I got to wondering how I would find out if there was sort of facility in the street.
It appears there is no way to find out.
A couple of questions.
Firstly, why, once you mop the floor, does it become your floor?
“Fuck’s sake! Get off MY floor I’ve just washed it!”
I had a bout of that today.
Secondly, am I the only one who washes the mop head? Takes it off and boils it up kind of wash it?
I only ask to see if these things are general or if I have been ‘channelling’ my Grandmother all afternoon.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Astrakhan And The Pox
I have been out and about today.
It was so fucking cold I had no shame in wearing the furry Russian Military hat I bought in Budapest.
It renders me completely deaf but is the warmest thing I’ve ever had on my person.
Other than, another person.
Then the word Astrakhan popped into my head.
My Grandfather was always going on about Astrakhan coats and hats.
So I looked them up, thinking one might match my hat.
I can’t really see myself in it but it does look the fecking business.
Wikipedia tells me Astrakhan is the fleece of Karakul lambs.
Then I surfed into this.
Foetal fur? For fuck’s sake! That’s nasty.
I don’t think I’ll be putting one on my back.
Gorbachev put it on his head and look at the mark that left!
Housemate Pat popped back from her sister’s today.
I, unsuccessfully, tried to keep the look of horror from my face as I was confronted by the first adult I have seen with Chickenpox.
While convalescing with her family she’d caught it from her niece.
I don’t know why I assumed she would’ve had it as a child. They must get other stuff in Malaysia.
Kenny saying his prayers to Ceiling Cat!
It was so fucking cold I had no shame in wearing the furry Russian Military hat I bought in Budapest.
It renders me completely deaf but is the warmest thing I’ve ever had on my person.
Other than, another person.
Then the word Astrakhan popped into my head.
My Grandfather was always going on about Astrakhan coats and hats.
So I looked them up, thinking one might match my hat.
I can’t really see myself in it but it does look the fecking business.
Wikipedia tells me Astrakhan is the fleece of Karakul lambs.
Then I surfed into this.
Foetal fur? For fuck’s sake! That’s nasty.
I don’t think I’ll be putting one on my back.
Gorbachev put it on his head and look at the mark that left!
Housemate Pat popped back from her sister’s today.
I, unsuccessfully, tried to keep the look of horror from my face as I was confronted by the first adult I have seen with Chickenpox.
While convalescing with her family she’d caught it from her niece.
I don’t know why I assumed she would’ve had it as a child. They must get other stuff in Malaysia.
I know I shouldn’t but, Hehehehe!
Kenny saying his prayers to Ceiling Cat!*Astrakhan And The Pox. I'm liking it for a band name!
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
January 6th 2009
Today is Nollaig Na Mban or Women’s Little Christmas.
It is a tradition in Ireland that men take over the household duties and the ladies have the day off to party with their friends, sisters, mothers and aunts.
Cracking! I scoffed and supped at Woodies Wine Bar.
It’s also Epiphany and my last blow out before a strict regime of diet and exercise begins tomorrow.
I’ve been in Chichester today.
Never buy coffee at the station, the prices are savage.
I love ‘Chi’! It’s so civilized.
It is the place to see swathes of pastel coloured corduroy on men over 70.
Barbour Jackets and Brogues are also de rigueur for both sexes.
Why can’t these fuckers just stick to what they know?
Their excessive ‘breeding’ policies in South America are what are fucking up the Rainforests, not me.
Their banning of condoms is what is wiping out Africa with Aids.
Fucking Pope. Six days into the New Year and he’s pissed me off already.
As pointed out by Sassy, what the fuck are my Beloved Spurs doing buying all sorts when we so obviously need a Keeper who can catch?
Come on ‘arry, get it sorted.
My Darwin Award this week goes to…
Blogger has been a complete twat for some reason. It's taken me hours to get this posted.
It is a tradition in Ireland that men take over the household duties and the ladies have the day off to party with their friends, sisters, mothers and aunts.
Cracking! I scoffed and supped at Woodies Wine Bar.
It’s also Epiphany and my last blow out before a strict regime of diet and exercise begins tomorrow.
I’ve been in Chichester today.
Never buy coffee at the station, the prices are savage.
I love ‘Chi’! It’s so civilized.
It is the place to see swathes of pastel coloured corduroy on men over 70.
Barbour Jackets and Brogues are also de rigueur for both sexes.
Why can’t these fuckers just stick to what they know?
Their excessive ‘breeding’ policies in South America are what are fucking up the Rainforests, not me.
Their banning of condoms is what is wiping out Africa with Aids.
Fucking Pope. Six days into the New Year and he’s pissed me off already.
As pointed out by Sassy, what the fuck are my Beloved Spurs doing buying all sorts when we so obviously need a Keeper who can catch?
Come on ‘arry, get it sorted.
My Darwin Award this week goes to…
Blogger has been a complete twat for some reason. It's taken me hours to get this posted.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Edible Number Thirteen
I like ‘Junior Moment’ and ‘Edible Estates’ from this list.
I have had my garlic delivered from the Island for my edible estate.
Apparently garlic needs freezing temperatures to get it going. Frost helps it divide or something.
The Parsley and the Rosemary both seem to like the freezing weather and are thriving.
I saved up the whole of House series 4 to watch in one hit and am now in a serious lust with Number Thirteen.
Serious lust.
Something about her eyes I think.
I am going to make an appointment at the doctor this week.
My heart palpitations are beginning to frighten me now.
The length of time between when it stops and when it kicks back in is getting longer, so probably best to get it checked.
On the few occasions I travel on the Loser Cruiser I’m straight up the back!
I think most people I know do the same.
Where do you sit?
I have had my garlic delivered from the Island for my edible estate.
Apparently garlic needs freezing temperatures to get it going. Frost helps it divide or something.
The Parsley and the Rosemary both seem to like the freezing weather and are thriving.
I saved up the whole of House series 4 to watch in one hit and am now in a serious lust with Number Thirteen.
Serious lust.
Something about her eyes I think.
I am going to make an appointment at the doctor this week.
My heart palpitations are beginning to frighten me now.
The length of time between when it stops and when it kicks back in is getting longer, so probably best to get it checked.
On the few occasions I travel on the Loser Cruiser I’m straight up the back!
I think most people I know do the same.
Where do you sit?
Saturday, January 03, 2009
Stuff I Know Today
I love the title of this piece!
I couldn’t give a flying fuck who the new Dr Who is.
If you don’t want to be offended it’s probably best not to discuss Gaza with me.
After being MIA for a few days, I have found the wine I hid from myself!
Much rejoicing!
Slovakia now runs on the Euro.
This is the day Martin Luther was excommunicated.
The Clinique shit I was given for my face has made me spottier than a fourteen year old on a diet of chips.
Bastard Froggish filth.
This is my tune of the day.
The Untouchables is a brilliant film.
I couldn’t give a flying fuck who the new Dr Who is.
If you don’t want to be offended it’s probably best not to discuss Gaza with me.
After being MIA for a few days, I have found the wine I hid from myself!
Much rejoicing!
Slovakia now runs on the Euro.
This is the day Martin Luther was excommunicated.
The Clinique shit I was given for my face has made me spottier than a fourteen year old on a diet of chips.
Bastard Froggish filth.
This is my tune of the day.
The Untouchables is a brilliant film.