This miserable 'ol bastard was up early this morning. It's the sun what does it. It shines through the mollicroft windows and I thinks to meself: "best make the most of it Johnboy it'll soon be winter". So up I gets and starts the day. Cuppa first and a couple o' slices o' buttered toast with marmalade. After that I might have a bowl of oatbran porridge, if I can be bothered and if I think I ought to eat healthily. Mind you, after eating healthily I might then have a bacon and egg sandwich. Purely for it's protein content you understand.
When I was a married man my dear wife used to put my clean clothes out ready for me in the morning. Those days are long gone but I still like to maintain standards and to this day I always get dressed in the morning eventually. Unless it's early afternoon.
Clean clothes can be a problem, mostly when I run out of them. But one learns to adapt. Underpants for example no matter how long you have been wearing them, will always manage to have 'just one more day' in them, even when they have already been turned inside out several times! And socks! Well they can be worn until they fall to pieces and on the sad day when that finally occurs, it takes only a few hours to run to the local hosiery supply centre and purchase a new pair. So I manage to get by as a single man, and what with Febreze fabric freshener and today's powerful deodorants, one is able to live a relatively normal life. I still don't have a girlfriend! Strange that. What with me being so damned good looking!
Sadie the German Shepherd and I walked to the village today. I bought a newspaper and four slices of bacon. The newspaper didn't have much news in it. Mostly it was about some woman called Sharon Osbourne and her face being lifted. I don't care how many times she has her face lifted. To be honest, I don't even care about her at all. Except in the normal way I care for all humans. I care about the innocents in the Syrian conflict though, those poor souls who just want to live a happy quiet and peaceful life, but instead must spend their time wondering when the next bomb is going to drop on them. Yes I care about them, but the newspapers don't seem to care too much. Not as much as they care about Sharon Osbourne's plastic surgery. Why would anyone give a flying fuck about her face? Beats me! S'cuse the language, but sometimes I need to say things with fervour. Anyway this blog needs to be more daring, more cutting edge, more modern! I have become modern man. Modern grumpy 'ol man. Why not? This is my blog and it is in dire need of updating.
The showman's wagon, my home, has suffered in the sun. and I am currently redecorating the exterior. It involves a lot of work and because I am so lazy it is being done in stages. My latest excuse for not painting is that it is too hot too work to work outside in the intense heat. I am at this grey stage right now, which suits my mood at the moment. Extremely handsome son George, likes the grey. He thinks it looks 'cool'. I like bright colours though which is quite unusual for a miserable 'ol bastard! I am a complex character. Can't even understand myself at times. Most of the time. I shall, in the fullness of time have it looking bright and gay again. Watch this grey space.
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I forgot all about the mollicroft roof. |
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EHS George is off to start university next week. I am taking him on Saturday. Driving there in the VW camper. Takes about five hours to get there.. I expect I shall drive straight back after I see him settled in. I am going to miss him a lot. It's not as though I see a lot of him at the moment. What with his work and his friends he has a busy life. But I think I shall miss the fact that he isn't around. Still, as I said to him yesterday, students do seem to have long breaks and plenty of them.
To fill the void I am thinking about doing some voluntary work, only thinking about it mind you. I don't want to rush into anything. I might even take up sea kayaking. It has long been a thought.
Oh my word! Is that the time already? I must dash I have a dentist appointment at 4.15. Need to sort out what to wear. A red shirt would be a good idea, because of the blood, and I expect these underpants have still got a couple of days left in 'em. I won't wear socks. No one will notice if I wear my wellington boots!
It's good to be back blogging. I hope you think so too. Cutting edge and all!