Posts tagged ‘Cats’

February 19, 2012

A Really Bad Day

I AM HAVING A BAD DAY!

 

0800. Gave: phone, computer, desk and printout of partial-manuscript a cup of coffee.

Phone and computer did not want coffee so refused to work; desk and partial-manuscript did not indicate a preference either way.

Unable to adequately express my frustration in English so resorted to Anglo Saxon, my command of which is second to none.

0805. Phone continues to refuse to work despite vigorous shaking.

Warm day, window open, threw phone through window narrowly missing wood pigeon who was roosting in cherry tree and idly defecating on garden furniture below.

0806. Computer still not working. Due to pain from fall while climbing, cannot lift same to chuck it through window.

Many birds now in trees – familiar as they are with my little ways – eagerly waiting to see if next object through window will hit cat sneaking through blackcurrant bushes.

0806 and a bit. Threw dictionary at cat.

0815. Struggled downstairs with computer and managed to get it to car.

0930. At shop where longhaired youth, with acne cropping at several bushels to the acre, sucked his teeth and announced that CPU and Motherboard were blown – but as they were older than his granny and long overdue for replacement that was no bad thing.

0932. Resisted temptation to punch youth and contented myself with casting doubts on his parentage.

Bought new phone – cost £29

Bought new computer – cost £300.

1030. Tried to reprint partial manuscript, – printer out of black ink.

Bought new cartridge and reprinted partial.

Total cost of morning coffee – £335

1120 – decided to moan in blog.

I will probably kill myself

David

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January 20, 2012

The Blonde with the legs has deserted me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I might as well begin this blog as I mean to go on, detailing my love life – err lack of it – as it lurches from disaster to abject failure and back again. Four years I have devoted to the pursuit of one woman and neither of us is getting any younger. At the moment, well…

I am having a really bad time. I have been driving my daughter around the country in her quest for a job and in the past couple of weeks the ’miles travelled score’ is well into four figures. I get up, have a shower and start driving, I go to bed driving – two o’clock this morning I carried out an emergency braking manoeuvre and fell out of bed.

I have cats in the garden, blue-tits in the wall, mice in the shed and my son has fleas – everything is going wrong. The bread has gone mouldy, milk’s off, we’ve run out of sugar and tea and I had to have sausages for my breakfast, I am going to bed with heartburn.

Which brings me to the blonde-with-the-legs who is being even less co-operative than normal. She saw me yesterday in the road for the first time in weeks and what did she say?

‘Thought, we’d got rid of you – I haven’t had a bruise for ages.’ The years I have dedicated to the pursuit of that woman…

I let her unfortunate remark go by me, flung my head high and ignored her.

‘Something wrong with your neck she asked?’ Again I ignored her, gave her the cold shoulder.

I decided to be haughty, treat her with distain, cold and proud – after a week I realised it wasn’t working. I went around to her house to give her a piece of my mind!

‘I have come to give you a piece of my mind,’ I said.

‘Sure you can spare it,’ She said

‘I have a damn-good mind to dump you and go back to my ex-wife,’ I said.

‘Give her my sympathy,’ She said

‘You have broken my heart,’ I said.

‘I was tryin’ f’ yer neck,’ she said.

‘You have broken my heart. You are the only woman I have ever really loved and you have thrown that love back in my face and left me desolate and alone.’

‘That’s another thing,’ She said. ‘I am never going to the theatre with you again. You’ve been hamming it up ever since we saw Les Mis’ – you’ve been unbearable.’

‘You’re terrified of real emotion,’ I said

‘Rats,’ She said.

‘I’m going and I won’t be back,’ I said. ‘Don’t come looking for me, as far as you are concerned, I won’t be there,’

It was no good, though. You just can’t get real feeling into it when you’re shouting through a letter box.

first posted on the ON/AVN SGIA, Inc. site