After yesterday’s fug, call it a small case of writers block, call it tiredness, call it a complete breakdown of imagination, a brain freeze; too much cold balmy weather, the wind blowing the words from my mind as it whistles through the space between my ears. But today I’m back, with a few sections of news worthy tit bits for your delectation.

Every morning I have been standing naked on the bathroom scales as a result of my t-shirts riding up, slowly stretching northwards as my belly grows; not massively you understand. I notice when I stretch my arms up in the air, the gap between my belt loops of my jeans/ trousers, and my t-shirt, mostly t-shirts is enlarging. I feel a draught when I stretch, which is not a good look, I imagine as I can’t see what is going on.

My weight is hovering around 80-82kg of man, today pre-shower was 81.8kg ( a dissapointing result) I showered, washed any fluff or dirt I may have picked up whilst I rolled around in the hay, went for a piss, weighed myself again; 81.1kg! My piss weighed 0.7kg, which as both N and M wisely told me today was about a pint, maybe a little more of unadulterated ammonia tinged golden goodness. Apparently 1 later of piss weighs 1kg, which I am going to accept as a bona fide fact of the day.

Secondly this morning I changed t-shirts and found my self wearing a black Jack Daniels honey logo garment, I have absolutely no idea where this came from, I like the T-shirt, I don’t like JD, but I wonder if the disappearing socks are due to the embarrassment caused by the procreating short sleeved t’s? Possibly not but who knows what happens in the drawers when I go to work. All I know is that when I get home there is sometimes a pile of clothes on the bed, where they come from and what they have been unto is beyond me, I would get a surveilance camera but fear Jeff Bozo would be spying through the keyhole.

On a more serious note Mrs T lost her job today, not quite officially, that happens at the end of March, so the clock is ticking for us to re-mortgage the house without the company knowing which could be regarded as fraudulent but I won’t tell if you don’t and who the hell are we conning anyway; the Banks? Really? Screw them. She’s been an absolute star and deserves  praise not just from me, but from all of you readers and who knows if each and everyone of you donates £100 then maybe we could pay off this damn debt, or maybe not. Suffice to say, things generally turn out ok, we’re good people and haven’t willingly prayed on the innocent and vulnerable like some predatory blogging guru who keeps letting me know I should have snappier titles, draw people in. I happen to like dates, and some sort of order, the path to a freestyle method of blogging would surely lead to chaos and the ultimate end of the universe. Don’t worry little people, I’ve got your back.