Monday, 30th September 2019.
I’m five minutes from Waterloo. I’ve stabbing pains in my neck and knee. Why? I don’t know but I’ll presume age. I’ve felt a lot worse than this and gone to work but these pains are normally masked by the final numbing effects of drugs and alcohol.
I’ve just realised. I spent an hour yesterday, convincing everyone to bring packed lunch today. I forgot mine.
What a dick!
My old brother Ciaran sent me this picture earlier. It’s some original song sheets from back in the days of Indigo Twist. A band we were in with two other mates.
Tuesday, 1st October 2019.
I popped in to see Sonny at my parentson the way home last night and tried to help my dad with the ridiculous government, registration thing he has to do for Brexit.
He only been here 60 years!!!
After that, went home. Had food delivery. Ate fish fingers, marrowfats and mash.
The day was going fine until some jumped up nobody, who takes their job too seriously, started accusing the ccontractors of swearing at her when walking past her loading bay office to have a cigarette. This escalated into various emails that implicated The Bouch.
The emails became a full site meeting.
I mean, come on!
She did have the look of a Christian about her. With added Deidre Barlowe glasses. The fact that her office is a broom cupboard in a loading bay says how important she probably is.
What a cunt!
On a lighter note, here is a picture of The Bouch just before. Very pleased with his find:
I don’t think the forensic dude was on a job. I think he had stopped for lunch. The perks of being a rozzer.
PARK WHERE YOU FUCKIN’ LIKE!
To give you perspective, I took the picture from the end of Savile Row by Gieves & Hawkes.
I was, at this point, going to go into a long, Withnail & I quote. Here’s a video. The relating moment is at 08.11.