trials and tribulations

Today...

I have been screamed at, scratched, ignored, hung up on (as it the telephone, not in a strange infatuation way), swore at and urinated on.

And that was when I got home.

I had decided today that, almost two whoole months into 2007, I was due some time off work, to spend at home.

I think I may have changed my mind.

Nursery Ryh..Rty...Rythm...Songs

Rub-a-dub-dub, three men in a tub...

What the hell is that about?

I think Stark Jnr is a little too young to hear about three-in-a-bath homosexual swingers parties!

Sunday Morning Call

I know all men probably say it at one time or another but... it had never happened to me before. Honestly.

There I was standing outside the supermarket, waiting for it to open. IT WAS SUNDAY BLOODY MORNING!!!

I was up so early on Sunday - a contradiction in my house - that I had to stand outside the local supermarket waiting for it to open. What was wrong with me?

There I was, tracksuit bottoms on, jangling my car keys awkwardly, refusing to make eye contact with the couple who were also waiting. They looked like they'd been up drinking all night and were desperate for the shop to open so they could buy some lighter fluid to keep ther party burning.

They probably thought the same about me.

Pre-9am shopping?

Aah, the lure of a good bacon sandwich does strange things to a man.

weather man

Why does the weather report insist on referring to 'adverse' weather?

What's so bloody adverse about it? Surely there's no such thing as 'good' or 'bad' weather? Just weather.
What's so good about sun? Skin cancer, heat exhaustion and men in socks and sandals!
And what's so bad about snow or rain? I happen to love the snow.

So stop bloody moaning!

Empty Sack

I knew something was wrong when I saw her walking towards me, holding my folder in her hands.

"There you go," she smiled. I'd just managed to thank her before my heart sunk. I stared at my rucksack. It was wide open. And empty.

In my haste to catch my morning train I had done the unthinkable. I had ran the last 200 yards to the station. And, unbeknownst to me, had deposited the contents of my bag onto the road every few steps.

There was my umbrella, lying on the station steps; that CD my friend returned to me last night, strewn on the station concourse; my notebook with my life's work fluttering in the gutter. And my cheese and coleslaw sandwich, lovingly prepared before I left home this morning, abandoned in the middle of the road.

I stared at the multiseed concoction lyin forlornly halfway across the pedestrian crossing.

By some miracle, the wheels of passing cars had missed it. Like in a Tom and Jerry cartoon it had survived by being directly in the centre of the road, thus avoiding certain death.

I considered my options.

Do I abandon my organic friend to its fate or, like the muppet I am, press the button, wait for the green man and boldly walk into the centre of the road, pick up the sandwich and place it in my bag, thus attracting the bewildered gaze of passers-by.

Well, it's just not me to leave a friend in distress.

I made my way back to the station, whistling "Two Little Boys"

Did you think I would leave you lying... when there's room in my bag for two....