All fucking ready ? You must be bloody joking ! How the hell has half the year passed without so much as a blink. It's ridiculous. I want a refund. I want to speak to a manager.
Monday July 1st. Not really a bad day. It was very warm last night, and it's only moderately cooler tonight. I couldn't get that much sleep last night. As it was I decided to make things easy for myself, and allow for a lie in, but having a bath Sunday night.
The bath, I'm not going to lie was absolutely lovely. It's been quite a while since I pampered myself with a nice soak. Anyway. To bed I went. Fresh and clean. Ready to slumber I may have been, but my body and mind we not really on the same page as it were. I was just wide awake. So there I lay, trying to get to sleep. Feeling hot, with windows open as much as I dare, worrying slightly that the cats might try and get out the windows overnight.
None the less, I've had a really good day today at work. I'd rather have gotten more creative stuff done, but I foolishly turned on that machine which sucks away my evenings. It is only now, as I type that I realise one of the reasons I had not gone to bed sooner was so that I could stay up and watch the first episode of the last series of Skins - the exceedingly well written, casted, directed and acted youth drama that's been running for about the last five years. Every couple of years they change out the characters, and present a different set of backgrounds and problems.
I had made myself stay up in order to watch that. But have forgotten when it got to Ten O'Clock and started watching some other stuff (Have I Got News for You) on Dave. I've probably seen the episode fourteen times already.
Dammit. I will just have to check up on the catchup application tomorrow. I am not now going to watch it tonight.
Okay. July 1st. I actually did some work editing my NaNoWriMo over the weekend. I didn't make a huge amount of progress, but still, I was satisfied that I actually started looking at the damn thing again.
I have brought a pair of flip-flops.
Every self defacing middle aged man should buy himself a pair of flip-flops. Just so everyone else can laugh at him when he trips over and stubs his toe.
Seriously, it was bloody boiling over the weekend, and having gotten on a train to go pick up my daughter, only to have her call me to tell me she was getting a light to mine, I suddenly found myself with the opportunity to get off the train at Hilsea, walk back towards the flat - going past Lidl. I don't normally get to go in there, so had a peak, and ended up buying a couple of things for Chloe's birthday.
I also brought the flip-flops. To be honest, at one pound forty-nine I couldn't give a shit if they fall apart next week. (Remember this, because if they do, I will be moaning like hell. What a waste of money, I'll say).
Anyway, with only weeks to go, Chloe has finally acted upon my request to provide me with that which is most arduous and difficult. The challenge to end all others. The list to separate the idiots from the stupid. I speak of course, of the birthday list. That sacred thing which the parent of any Teenager knows they dare not purchase gifts without consulting THE LIST.
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