Diary Of Some Sort Of Life #3

Saturday, 18th February, 2017


Awoke. Not refreshed but content. I remembered my elder some had managed to save my Mexican wrestling mask from when I used to live with them. Plus, a drunken purchase from China arrived in the post.

I know what you’re thinking. What a dick! Right? Oh well. It made me smile. And, obviously, start weighing people up as possible wrestling partners!

I just realised, my suitcase, from last weekend, is still to be unpacked. I must enjoy the small amount of time I have with my boys. Tempus fugit.


The joys of children. If in doubt, make your little brother cry!


Time to deal with that Kodi 17 install. I do love a bit of Kodi. Helps a lot when you don’t have an any other form of way of watching TV.


I’m sure most of you know all about it. It keeps me from staring at walls when I’m not feeling inspired or reading steemit posts.

@art21 @daveks @hardank

@thecryptofiend @rossenpavlov

To name but a few(thats my excuse!)


Ok. Time to relieve my poor old mum from those rascals. Quick jaunt down the river to town. I’m sure the boys will let me have a quick 2 for 1.

The biggest nightmare of having a blog like this is people who know me, personally, reading it. It kind of defeats the object of writing it, if you have to justify it all. Pfft! I suppose there are bigger problems in life.

Yes, Thats right. You guessed it……I could do with a drink.


As usual for me, a quick restore in the turtle. Spend a little time conversing with my spawn. Like blood from a stone!

Spent a little time explaining steemit to my 12 year old. When I say explain, I mean, explain my limited understanding….. He gets it!

Bloody kids!


Let’s take it old skill. Back to where I belong, but this time my kids are playing on the Beehive pool table.

Being referee is harder than it seems. Drinking Guinness is easier. 


Godmother arrival. Pokemon go discussion begins. 


It’s late. I know. All good things come to an end. Yes. My heart is broken. Who cares? I don’t, so else will? Truly, I don’t care. There’s always a clock tower, a snipers rifle………..fuck it all.
Bring  tomorrow.fuck you all.


I’m sorry. I apologise. A day that seemed so normal has turned out to be, one of the worst I’ve had, in a long time. I’ve been made to feel worthless. Perhaps I am. No. Fuck it. I am. Well done. Yep.


I’m gonna blag the whole day with children tomorrow. I’ll be dad. No.1.

After that. Fuck you all. ..
Believe it. This is how fucked up my life is.

Peaches and cream.

All I wanted was……..

FUCK IT. i’m talking to myself.

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