cr3Amy d1sH

I've just popped out for lunch. I don't know why there's any need for people to say things like "popped" or "dipped" when they make a reference to a shop dash, but they do, so I just did.
Anyway - this was a rare treat. I feel quite rough today...had a few sherberts last night and the effects are still wearing off. So I thought I'd best go find a dish of pure quality with which to ease my suffering.
I had too many food options on Baker Street today, so I took a deep breath and strided into Tescos to make, unknown to me at the time, the proudest purchase of a lunchtime treat I could possibly have ever imagined...

...a Ham & Mushroom Tagliatelle, from the prestigious "Italiano" range of Tesco's own products.

I whisked it back to the office (in a similar style to that adpoted by someone who might "pop" to the shop) and ripped off the outer casing. The plastic film that seperated me from my lunch lay glued tightly across the tub - like the skin across a snare drum...with the snare engaged...
With the co-ordination of a teenaged lad on his first date with a lass he doesn't really dig, I removed the plastic cover with ease. It was later that the matter would become more difficult.

Upon returning to the kitchen, and the microwave, to remove my tv dinner (is it still a tv dinner when you're going to eat it at your desk, instead of on your sofa in front of the telly?), I found that not only had my lunch been scoffed by someone else but that the little swines had also made off with all the tea!!!

NO TEA!!!!!!

Holy shit!



I awoke with a start - looked at the clock on the video and realised I was about four and a half hours late for work! There was nothing for it...



I got up.....and made some tea.

2fronTTeeth

I've not been to the dentist for more than a decade, and thought I was doing quite well on my own. I was hoping to get away without forking out for dental health bills until I was father to my own child, and had decided that perhaps my kid should enjoy the benefits of regular check ups...and stickers (do they still do that?).

So I was having this conversation with a mate recently, and went off to consider signing up with a local dental practice. As is often the way with me I clean forgot, and promptly went home instead to busy myself with anything I could to prevent the outcome of actually doing something to help myself.

And now as the afternoon wears on, the back of my mouth is beginning to throb...I'm not reaching for the Ibuprofen just yet - I'll wait until I start murmuring and chanting with the pain, the way a distressed animal will whimper...ooooooooooooooaaahhh I really should have sorted out a dentist...

I shouldn't think about it. If I'm not aware of the pain there can't be any. Right? So now there's no pain, no pain, not the firstest tiniest littlest hint of any kind of sensation that might not even be related to the farthest-flung thing from anything ever recorded in the history of science and nature along the lines of pain, no way, not on your Nelly, your life, or your Nan.

Right. So now there's no pain there's nothing for me to blether on about. I should leave this, the 'others' will be back soon......I think it's time for some tea....

9newhoMe

So I've moved into my new home. I've been living here for two weeks now and it's great; the rooms don't shake anymore when trains go past and the view from the windows is one of a park with trees where people walk their dogs.

It was about time we all moved out from the last place. The mould had begun to take hold of what it deemed its own, so the windows were beginning to fur up, the walls were beginning to crumble and the ceiling in the kitchen (or the floor of the bathroom) was clearly audible in its deliberation about whether or not to stay standing. I think most of us learned something from living there - how to adapt to conditions beyond those revelled in by The Young Ones.

So now with our new found 'qualifications' we're all feeling at a bit of a loose end in the new place; so far it's still clean and comfortable.
My laziest flatmate has, however, already managed to "create" a special aqua-expressway of her own from the bathroom into the kitchen below. It was mostly down to her that in the previous place the floors of the upstairs bathroom, and downstairs kitchen, were becoming so well aquainted that at times the rest of us would have to brace them apart with beams and pillars. The novelty of walking into the kitchen on a Saturday morning to make some tea and toast, and finding the units on the other side of the room approaching with great velocity and blur as you skid headlong forwards, after inadvertantly placing one foot in a puddle the length and breadth of the room, soon wore off.
To continue (and get some of the agro off my chest) her time of rising grew later and later in the day - until ultimately I'd return home from work to find that favourite Saturday morning water-ski facility set up and ready to go at six o'clock at night. I chose that point in time to "have a chat with her" about her state of mind, lifestyle and how she intended to develop from a complete bum to semi-low end order of peasant. I wanted to know if I could begin to document her life - my day job wasn't (and still isn't) paying well and I could use the extra cash from selling snippets of her self-destruction to a lifestyle suppliment in one of the broadsheets. Of course she'd have to kick the bucket at some point, not horribly, just tragically. Looking back it was probably some of my suggestions about how best she could destroy herself that might've prompted the door, leading simply to her inner personality, to be slammed shut in my face...how it remains to this day, unfortunately...no really, such a shame...still, she's out and about looking for work now. You never know, after 3 years of hanging around in a perfectly habitable house, until she'd flooded it out so completely it began to develop gills and flippers of its own, she may well take this opportunity to start again. Imagine...not feeling like you're raising an infant each day you listen to her drivel, but actually talking to someone and appreciating what they say and do...*bliss*

Ooh I feel better - thank you Blogspot!

Best go and make some tea...

7phonecalls

The phone rang the other day. I was at home and nobody else was. Normally I leave the phone if it rings and I'm at home, with nobody else...I didn't though, nope, the other day I changed my mind and answered the phone.
It was our landlord, or rather it was a message being delivered by someone else on behalf of our landlord. But it was being delivered by someone who I know knows our landlord, so it was effectively a message straight from our landlord. That's irritating. But anyway, the message didn't change, no, the message remained the same - it had to be delivered and no matter who delivered it the message would always remain the same.

Leave, all of us, in 30 days.

Don't get me wrong, there's no mental scar...infact I answered the phone again yesterday evening. Someone called from Barclays Bank, they seemed to think there was someone living in our house, someone I didn't know...I tried to reason, but they knew more than me. So I quietly put the phone on the side and went to make some tea...

13First steps

So, this is my first ever blog entry...woah.  I thought I'd better grab a blog while they're still reletively new - somewhere to encourage myself to be expressive in words and pictures before all my creative juices dry up and crumble into nowt - which is unfortunately something we're all in for at some point.

Anyway - no more doom!!

This is my blog, these are my thoughts...I think I'll go make a cup of tea...