Monday, 2nd March 2020.
After an uneventful weekend, I threw a sicky and had today off.
Why? I just couldn’t be arsed.
So, instead, I cleaned the kitchen floor and watched American Pickers.
Tuesday, 3rd March 2020.
Yeah, I got up.
I’m heading back to this awful job I started last week but The Bouch is with me today and I’m hoping that will make it a little less tedious.
It was definitely easier with The Bouch but today has highlighted the sheer enormity of the task.
Just because our cables look similar doesn’t mean you can do the job!
Anyway, I found out we are the fourth team to take this task on. The first three firms lasted a couple of days each then left.
I won’t leave Lewis in the lurch but I will have to explain that it’ll take more than a couple of days.
Work is bollocks!
But………Work is work.
Forgetting about all that, the more important issue is this spot.
I had my fair share(in fact, way more than!) in my teens/early twenties, as you can see.
Then again, life has been going so shit, for so long now, I don’t know why I’m surprised?
Everything seems to be going down hill. Health, weight, fitness, joints…………..(Bones. Not ability to roll!)
Give it another 10 years and I’ll be a spotty double chalker*. Spattered on a pavement after jumping to my doom from a council tower block.
*For those who don’t know, a double chalker is someone so fat they needed 2 pieces of chalk to mark out the corpse.
Wednesday, 4th March 2020.
Nothing but rot.
Thursday, 5th March 2020.
I felt like rigormortis had set in by the time I got home yesterday. Typically, I still had to change the bed and clean the kitchen.
“Jesus. Some people!”
It’s so cold, I could puke.
No show by The Bouch today but some other engineers have turned up. I don’t know them but they seem ok.
Weirdly, it is a father and daughter, and the father’s name is Dave.It must be a cabling thing.
*my actual boss is called Dave and he employs his daughter.
I need some amphetamines. I have thought long and hard about a solution to my current health issues and it boiled down to two options:
- Go to the doctors.
- Take drugs.
I’ll get some for tomorrow.
I’m back at the Golden Fleece for a pint.
I can’t face eating.
The first sip is instantly calming and cools my insides like drinking liquid nitrogen.
I intend to stay here for at least an hour so I’d better drink slow. I have very little funds and can’t stink of booze on site.
I made a vague effort this afternoon but saved enough for tomorrow.
Hopefully, The Bouch will be back, we’ll have an easy day and be back with the usual faces Monday morning.
I’m on a stacked Waterloo and City, heading back to Waterloo.
I visited the “rents” on the way home. The great thing about visiting is, my mundane, I did this-I did that, stories are of interest.
Probably the highlight of their week.
The downside is having to tell them 4-5 times.
I say them. I mean my mum. Her short term memory is fucked. If I went again tomorrow I’d have to tell the same stories again. If I go next week, she will remember as they will have transferred to long term memory.
My dad, on the other hand, is frightening aware. Sadly, horribly misinformed by The Daily Mail.
I can’t be arsed to do playlists anymore. I’ve gone back to albums.
So, I’m starting at the tippy tippy top. The greatest album of all time and the soundtrack of my life.
It’s debatable as to whether it ruined or made my life………
I’ll let you know when I’m dead.
Listen from beginning to end. It’s the only way.