Saturday night.
What in the name of arse am I doing indoors typing this?
It's nights like this where I come to think that life's gone seriously pear shaped. But as the alternative is to boldly go where no Suffolk bloke has gone before and survived*, ie Beyond the Valley of the Codheads, solo drinking in Helltown on Sea. Arrrgh! It's nights like this where I would carve off a limb of your choice with a rusty letter opener for a night in Alberts. Parsnip crisps are required. But as Fine Dine don't travel out this far, I'll have to make do with Chinese takeaway and wine. Although actually, I quite fancy pizza. Pizza it is. Wooo, living the high life again ! Hmmm. Takeaways and wine. I am turning into Bridget Jones. I shall have fun impersonating her. Good boobs as I recall. I may never leave the house again....
Oh, the car. Radiator's leaking like a leaky thing on St Swiss Cheese's day. Bum. More expense, but probably not fatal. Bit of a bummer though, off to the city for a course tomorrow. Currently got the Fannymagnet, erm, I mean the bike on a battery charger hoping that it'll go VROOOM at the appropriate time tomorrow rather than clickclickcwh...., ah sod it, you know the drill by now, I don't need to repeat that sound effect. It's nice to have a spare vehicle. When it works. Right now, the battery charger's giving the same readings as it was last year before I had to replace the battery, and if that's gone phut after only a year, I shall be cross.
*without Syphillis**
** At least in this town catching crabs isn't so bad. They're heavy bastards to have hanging off your gonads of an evening, but at least you've got something to put in the paella for later.
It's nights like this where I come to think that life's gone seriously pear shaped. But as the alternative is to boldly go where no Suffolk bloke has gone before and survived*, ie Beyond the Valley of the Codheads, solo drinking in Helltown on Sea. Arrrgh! It's nights like this where I would carve off a limb of your choice with a rusty letter opener for a night in Alberts. Parsnip crisps are required. But as Fine Dine don't travel out this far, I'll have to make do with Chinese takeaway and wine. Although actually, I quite fancy pizza. Pizza it is. Wooo, living the high life again ! Hmmm. Takeaways and wine. I am turning into Bridget Jones. I shall have fun impersonating her. Good boobs as I recall. I may never leave the house again....
Oh, the car. Radiator's leaking like a leaky thing on St Swiss Cheese's day. Bum. More expense, but probably not fatal. Bit of a bummer though, off to the city for a course tomorrow. Currently got the Fannymagnet, erm, I mean the bike on a battery charger hoping that it'll go VROOOM at the appropriate time tomorrow rather than clickclickcwh...., ah sod it, you know the drill by now, I don't need to repeat that sound effect. It's nice to have a spare vehicle. When it works. Right now, the battery charger's giving the same readings as it was last year before I had to replace the battery, and if that's gone phut after only a year, I shall be cross.
*without Syphillis**
** At least in this town catching crabs isn't so bad. They're heavy bastards to have hanging off your gonads of an evening, but at least you've got something to put in the paella for later.
posted by Fred the Singing Bandit at 10:25 pm
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