I thought for a change i’d write a post about me; give you a Window into my world, my world as a recently turned 48 year old man. Thanks, you’re too kind, but thank God another birthday year is over, and I can concentrate on other things. My daughter and I share the same day, this one she turned sweet sixteen and me, well I said just now. CONCENTRATE. In 2 years time, thats the big one, 18 and 50!! Should be fun, but theres plenty more living left to do in between now and then, I wonder if I’ll still be doing this, still be working in my job, it’ll be over 20 years by then in the same company! Christ that makes me shiver to think that realistically I could be. Why would I leave? The pension is good, the hours are flexible, the wage is shite but the first two kind of make up for that… maybe, maybe not. And now I’m starting to sound like this 48 year old man, who made a trip to the doctor’s this evening to complain of arthritic fingers, the doctor took one look, felt my joints and looked at me. Told me I looked good and had I lost weight and then let me know that this sort of shit happens and I should just suck it up, keep swallowing the Turmeric tablets, never chew, always swallow whole, yellow mouth!
We travelled to Cardiff for 21 hours, including 6 asleep, about 5 in restaurants, possibly 2 in the room, 1 1/2 in the hotel bar (mainly just me while the rest wrapped the presents and my daughter had a soak in the bath, 1 1/2 in the Escape Rooms failing to escape from a serial killer with a penchant for pulling out his victim’s eyes and storing them in jars, and the rest shopping. Regards the shipping I went into a record shop for 20 minutes maximum with my son, he gets restless, he’s 11. Mrs T and daughter wondered around the brash, tense corridors of the shopping centre. My son and I wondered the brash, tense corridors of the shopping centre looking for the girls.
Notable highlights of the 21 hours were my son rolling all the way from the lift to the room, I guess 40 or 50m, silly boy. Receiving some splendid presents, including a chilly bottle (it’s a flask which keeps drinks either hot of cold) they are reassuringly expensive and I feel part of a larger movement, the bottle looks good; I look good and feel great when I’m sat on the periphery of a wooded hill slurping hot coffee from a mug poured from my Chilly bottle. I also received a dashing pair of black tartan PJ Bots, they’re really soft and I’d say warm too and I am wearing them as I write this, paired up with the shirt I was wearing for work today, which is a also tartan, but this time in a darker blue with yellow detail, confirming me as being at the forefront of the Neoteric movement in Worcestershire. Indeed, Mrs T was so impressed with my ability to push the boundaries of what is fashionable she called the out fit “Clash of the Tartans” which I think fits like a well worn gauntlet, which I am throwing down to others who may not know yet, but soon will, that double tartan is going to be sweeping the nation, in a bastardised return to that dark place in fashion history when Bay City Rollers ruled the airwaves. I kid you not. I also received an elf hat, novelty, to wear at Christmas, it’s got bells on and might get lost. I’ve some books and the present to end all presents which I received on Thursday, a pair of leather lined welly boots; not hipster, but practical walker magazine cover star. Regular readers will understand my issues with neoprene, I don’t come out in a rash, just in case you’re concerned, i’m not a sickly child, in fact i’m not a child at all but I must have really sharp heels because within the year the neoprene will be destroyed, rubbed away from the wellington boot heel resulting in blister central on my ankles, which is not a good look, or feel.
i got some books, and a record, the new Jane Weaver one, reworking of her fave songs on her last 3 albums, its a grower, I can feel it and its on double pink vinyl, which as regular readers will probably know I’m a fan of the limited edition. In the record shop I bought Neu 2. Side A is brilliant, side B is not, they literally ran out of money half way through and so put out a side of out takes and demos; not a pleasant listen, made aesthetic on white vinyl.
So there we are, Bonfire night was cancelled because we were tired, emotional and cold and had just enough logs to muster a warming fire. Now the logs have all gone, all gone. Goat, my log man, can not provide so I have had to look else where, to a friend of N’s who will provide me with Ash and Oak, awesome if seasoned, not great if not. Ash I think is good in any state according to a poem I once saw on a pub wall.
So there we go fellow bloggers and vagabonds, a brief synopsis of what I did at the weekend which I have written as word prompt homework, battling through the pain barrier of not yet diagnosed arthritis, to hear the words of my lovely doctor ringing in my ear, and I paraphrase,
“This shit happens when you get older”