A few days to catch you up on.
I’ve made it to day six without a cigarette.
Day three was the worst and I did briefly think about buying 10 but didn’t crack.
Fortunately, the weather has been blinding the last few days and I’ve occupied myself in the garden.
I’ve taken millions of photos, potted more vegetables and herbs than the Mansions Kitchens will ever use.
I went to the Geriatric Mass on Sunday, just in case the Screaming and Crying Mass riled me up.
Laugh? I nearly died trying to hold it all in.
Sunday was a warm one so the summer wardrobes were on show, plus the new summer sandals.
Warm feet, no hosiery and new shoes resulted in, for one old dear, a shoe which ‘farted’ with each step.
She appeared oblivious as she walked the length of the church.
During the consecration the lady with the goatee started a really intense coughing fit.
She was doing that thing where you try ‘swallowing’ the cough and trying to keep it in with your mouth shut.
The effort put in to this caused what only can be described as a, catastrophic loss of sphincter control.
She let rip with a fart which sounded like a cross between the clapping favoured by flamenco dancers and bubble wrap being wrung out.
It’s duration also made it impossible to ignore.
I didn’t kneel before my G-d, more fell to my knees in hysteria!
Sadly though these will be my last few weeks of attending Mass.
Father P is leaving and I can’t be arsed to go through the stress of ‘training’ up a new one.
Monday was my first day of Jury service.
The most utterly, pointless and boring day of the year so far.
Eight hours of my life I am never going to get back, which if my Carboxihaemoglobin levels were anything to go by, I could probably do with.
My level was recorded when I started on the patches and because I have absolutely no semblance of deferred gratification, I tested it again yesterday.
The first reading was more or less, “Fucking Hell! Call an ambulance and turn the faulty boiler off!” at 40ppm.
Four days later it was 19ppm.