I’m still reeling over having to pay for my own meal at my works christmas “party” in inverted commas. The more I think about it the more I wind myself up about it, we had a meeting in the morning and afternoon, which I had to attend, and then you feel obliged to join in with the evening’s festivities despite having to pay for the privilege, its bollocks and if you’re reading this Oh Fat Cat Great Leader, then Fuck you and everything that you stand for, this place is taking the piss and I feel like I’m the one who is devoid of urine.
I’ve checked my stats for these last few weeks and they are pretty poor, reason being; the pressure to perform in a Christmassy manner, Thursday at work is Christmas Jumper day, they want us to take a selfie in our jumper and Personal Protective Equipment. That will be funny. So you would not have to be particularly perceptive or in any way a detective to work out that I’ve been snowed under with drizzle and presents. The folk amongst you who concentrate will realise that for the lastr week we had no sofas or chairs to sit on in the lounge; we sold the old one retaining 4 scatter cushions and a wooden futon frame to sit on, its been hard to find any element of comfort in the situation we found oursleves, the kids seemed to spend even more time in their rooms as the dogs skidded around the wooden floor of the lounge biting each others legs and mounting one another in a playful never-ending romp. Benny likes Bewler, but just as a friend, not like Hattie who really stokes his inner boiler. Finally the sofas came after a wait of about 4 weeks, which I believe is not a particularly long time, the delivery men gave me a time slot between 7:09 and 10:09, they came at 9:30, I missed my walk and at the gig in Bristol, afterwards i felt slightly depressed, may well have had something to do with Sunday Wine club round at our friends house, in fact it was probably all to do with that, went to bed in my clothes around 8, which means I have to catch up on “His Dark Materials” before next Sunday, woke up at 6am, got up, logged on at work, and by 8 was feeling pretty ropey, which I sorted out with a bacon sandwich. Lets just say once the removal men arrived with the furniture I was ready for fresh air. They didn’t like barking dogs of which we have two, until next weekend, I don’t like barking dogs for fuck’s sake, but they insist on doing it with every little sound, it’s tiresome. The large sofa had to come through the patio doors, which meant me having to tell them to mind the dog shit, usually it freezing by now and so I can pick these dollops up without gipping into my mouth, but the rain has broken them down, even my co-dog walkers are complaining about it.
Then I had to drive to Bristol (140 miles round trip) to see Steve Mason, who was excellent and my mates who I shall call P and M. The motorway slip road back onto the M4 from the M32 has been closed to me the last 3 times I’ve been down, meaning a 30 minute detour through Bristol to get back onto the M5. I just feel worn out by this sort of inconvenience, especially way past my bed time. Tuesday was ok, but I had to rush to choose some new glasses, which I did in no longer than 10 minutes, the paperwork took the time. Then tomorrow I’m working, going to Leicester for curry, beer and football with my friend Super J, Thursday over to my folks, to fix the fence, over to Leamington Spa to deliver a tape deck, (remember the tape rack story?) and then back to take my son to a party, returning to the village to babysit for a couple of hours while my daughter goes off somewhere with her firiend. So as you can see i have precious little time to spare. But I guess we’re all in the same fucking boat, especially at this time of year, so I should probably shut up as Ive realised I sound like a massive whinger.
I suggest you play this excessively loud and dance