10 years ago today
i passed my driveing test.
probubly one of the best things i have ever done.
and i have seen the future it is steam powered. ohh yes my new home is now steralised with high pressure steam. most fun i have ever had cleaning.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
So all go
I inspect my soon to be new pad. And im moderately horrified. Its not been cleaned in 6 months of more. Dust every ware. Well I can deal with that. Mould in the sink and microwave. Long dead things in the freezer in a nasty thord state threatening to reanimate. I was thinking along the lines of a flamethrower being the best corse of action. The CO. was rose tinted in her view an thought a few hours scrubbing and it would be our palace. So she set to work. Scrubbing the microwave…. 45 mins later and her sprit was broken too. Bless her little cotton socks. She worked very hard cleaning everything. Especially the swastika that someone had painted on the front door. There’s so much still to do, and my mood drops every time I rember being up to my elbows in mouldy washing up. I tried the oven. But that was insane. My next crack at that is tomorrow.
But the worst thing…. The worst thing was the bins
Myself and raz. Tried to sort the bins. Two 80 ltr dustbins. Upon looking in them the rubbish was not in bags and rotting. Best corse of action. Bin bag over the top. Tip bin up. All in bag tie up quick. With bin bag in place I tried to lift them bin. No I know im a pussy. But I could barely lift it. it was about that time we lifed off a top layer of refuse to discover the bin was 2 thirds full of water. In it was everything you don’t want to ever see. Used nappys. Rotting food. there was these things that looked like maggots but about an inch to an inch and a half in size . Blood red worms. Slugs, snails. The smell was indescribable. Razmus and I where almost adding vomit to the concoction in the bin with every whiff. At 1 point raz when over to some burning rubber of plastic or something to take the smell of the bins away. If you have ever smelt the piss swamp at reading …. That is a bed of roses compared to the horrors of the bin. We had to scoop out half and carry it down the stairs to a drain the pour out fluid, then carry back up the stairs. I asked raz that if he dropped in and I fell and broke my back and was covered in the “fluid” then to take my cash card go and buy an gun and shoot me in the head. And to not dordle. Luckily that didn’t happen. There was two of these bins and the second was the same.
Once it was finished I look at raz apologetically (as had not really signed up for that horror) and he turned and said
“im not a religious man….. but if hell smells anything like that then im going to church”
I inspect my soon to be new pad. And im moderately horrified. Its not been cleaned in 6 months of more. Dust every ware. Well I can deal with that. Mould in the sink and microwave. Long dead things in the freezer in a nasty thord state threatening to reanimate. I was thinking along the lines of a flamethrower being the best corse of action. The CO. was rose tinted in her view an thought a few hours scrubbing and it would be our palace. So she set to work. Scrubbing the microwave…. 45 mins later and her sprit was broken too. Bless her little cotton socks. She worked very hard cleaning everything. Especially the swastika that someone had painted on the front door. There’s so much still to do, and my mood drops every time I rember being up to my elbows in mouldy washing up. I tried the oven. But that was insane. My next crack at that is tomorrow.
But the worst thing…. The worst thing was the bins
Myself and raz. Tried to sort the bins. Two 80 ltr dustbins. Upon looking in them the rubbish was not in bags and rotting. Best corse of action. Bin bag over the top. Tip bin up. All in bag tie up quick. With bin bag in place I tried to lift them bin. No I know im a pussy. But I could barely lift it. it was about that time we lifed off a top layer of refuse to discover the bin was 2 thirds full of water. In it was everything you don’t want to ever see. Used nappys. Rotting food. there was these things that looked like maggots but about an inch to an inch and a half in size . Blood red worms. Slugs, snails. The smell was indescribable. Razmus and I where almost adding vomit to the concoction in the bin with every whiff. At 1 point raz when over to some burning rubber of plastic or something to take the smell of the bins away. If you have ever smelt the piss swamp at reading …. That is a bed of roses compared to the horrors of the bin. We had to scoop out half and carry it down the stairs to a drain the pour out fluid, then carry back up the stairs. I asked raz that if he dropped in and I fell and broke my back and was covered in the “fluid” then to take my cash card go and buy an gun and shoot me in the head. And to not dordle. Luckily that didn’t happen. There was two of these bins and the second was the same.
Once it was finished I look at raz apologetically (as had not really signed up for that horror) and he turned and said
“im not a religious man….. but if hell smells anything like that then im going to church”
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
What are the chances?
Well im sitting here mildly annoyed still at the car troubles I has yesterday and the jobless drug addict outside who is shouting into a mobile phone about smoking heroin off of tin foil is only exsasabateing my mood.
Id had a kickass evening watching less than jake, and skipping the line and getting the front two people autographs. And then managed to make the ticket that was sign survive the gig. Without becoming sodden with beer and bodily fluids. With is the custom at a ska-punk gig. Sadly I didn’t fair aswell as the ticket and I was cloying with beer, and other more unpleasant fluids.
When I awoke. The next day realising I had neglected to bring any clean attire, and that I should go home a do something about the stench that I was emitting to innocents. I got into my car, and tried to pull away. To my horror I discovered that my breaks had pretty much fallen off and where making some terrible notice as the car tried to move. And the where eather jamming on (kinda) to being jammed off (kinda). No way I was going to make a mile, let alone the 45ish miles back to some clean pants. My friend knew of a garage close by and they managed to fit me in. sadly it took all day to fix and my poor friend was nice enough to allow me to stay in her gaff and play video games. And pretend that I didn’t smell like a pub toilet carpet still sodden with piss. Car fixed and £120 poorer I got home and did my eblusions. Where upon my old dear phones.
“what a day I have had!”
“yes go on mother ive had a shit one too”
“thismororning. The braeks pretty much fell off my car”
“ohhh very funny”
“what”
“how did you find out?”
“well I got out the drive and there was this big crunch”
“no you senile old bat… my cars breaks broke”
“what?”
“look stop winding me up”
“no my brakes broke im phoning to tell you”
“look old crone, I think its time to put you in a home. You are getting confused again”
“shut up harry, im 56 and you mother stop talking to me like that”
“sorry but my brakes fell off today and your winding me up”
“what? Are you winding me up?”
“no im not I’ve been bloody stuck in Southampton all day with the pissing QE2 honking its horn all day I just wanted to go and scupper it. and the brakes cost me £120”
“well my breaks did that too”
sparing you the rest of the comparing details. But exactly the same thing had happened to mine and my mothers car on the same morning 30 miles apart at the same time.
Either someone is trying to kill us both in some crappy film noir way. Of its just very strange massive coincidence. And that im poorer and my rudeness to my mother means father Christmas wont be visiting me.
But I hope hes got her forwarding address for her care home
Well im sitting here mildly annoyed still at the car troubles I has yesterday and the jobless drug addict outside who is shouting into a mobile phone about smoking heroin off of tin foil is only exsasabateing my mood.
Id had a kickass evening watching less than jake, and skipping the line and getting the front two people autographs. And then managed to make the ticket that was sign survive the gig. Without becoming sodden with beer and bodily fluids. With is the custom at a ska-punk gig. Sadly I didn’t fair aswell as the ticket and I was cloying with beer, and other more unpleasant fluids.
When I awoke. The next day realising I had neglected to bring any clean attire, and that I should go home a do something about the stench that I was emitting to innocents. I got into my car, and tried to pull away. To my horror I discovered that my breaks had pretty much fallen off and where making some terrible notice as the car tried to move. And the where eather jamming on (kinda) to being jammed off (kinda). No way I was going to make a mile, let alone the 45ish miles back to some clean pants. My friend knew of a garage close by and they managed to fit me in. sadly it took all day to fix and my poor friend was nice enough to allow me to stay in her gaff and play video games. And pretend that I didn’t smell like a pub toilet carpet still sodden with piss. Car fixed and £120 poorer I got home and did my eblusions. Where upon my old dear phones.
“what a day I have had!”
“yes go on mother ive had a shit one too”
“thismororning. The braeks pretty much fell off my car”
“ohhh very funny”
“what”
“how did you find out?”
“well I got out the drive and there was this big crunch”
“no you senile old bat… my cars breaks broke”
“what?”
“look stop winding me up”
“no my brakes broke im phoning to tell you”
“look old crone, I think its time to put you in a home. You are getting confused again”
“shut up harry, im 56 and you mother stop talking to me like that”
“sorry but my brakes fell off today and your winding me up”
“what? Are you winding me up?”
“no im not I’ve been bloody stuck in Southampton all day with the pissing QE2 honking its horn all day I just wanted to go and scupper it. and the brakes cost me £120”
“well my breaks did that too”
sparing you the rest of the comparing details. But exactly the same thing had happened to mine and my mothers car on the same morning 30 miles apart at the same time.
Either someone is trying to kill us both in some crappy film noir way. Of its just very strange massive coincidence. And that im poorer and my rudeness to my mother means father Christmas wont be visiting me.
But I hope hes got her forwarding address for her care home
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Gift horse in the mouth.
The place I have lunch most days. Has a Chinese opera society or something and the fund a school in china. There annual thing was coming up and the asked me to buy some raffle tickets. Raffles I used to be quite lucky as when I was a child. I won some gigantic teddy bear from Texas (the diy store) and I always used to do well in the school and village raffles. One year I was on my 6th prize from the same raffle, and they band me from winning anymore. Not that I minded I already had more cake than I could eat. This raffle at the Chinese 1st prise was a flight to Hong Kong. And I was really hoping I didn’t win it. Coz I was just a flight. And was pretty much set up as a good prise for someone from Hong Kong so they could go back and visit etc. not that good for anyone else. Unless you had enough money to get another flight for a partner or cohort. And hotel etc… so the prise in the long run would actually bankrupt me or not get used.
My phone rings. And im informed I have won a prize. And that I should go to the restaurant the next day. And on the phone im told not to ask what my prize is ill find out tomorrow. Ohh crap….. Not the flight please not the flight. Give that to someone who can use it and that wouldn’t normal be able to afford to go back and see family. Just a bottle of wine or a free lunch or something would be good.
I arrive. And Mary (her “English name”) starts rooting bout and checks my ticket. Thank fuck I haven’t won the flight. She goes over to a box of wrapped things.. and starts looking threw. And pulls out envelopes….. Shit I may have got a flight….. na na more of a fuss would be made. Envelopes go back in. I get a by royal mail size, midem sized package. It’s squishy so basically it’s a textile. So it’s a scarf. But there is a cardboard bit to it. Maybe backing maybe something else. I don’t open it there. Because im sure I would pull some kind of ungrateful face. and being English I try not to do that so I get my lunch and say my thankyous.
Back at work. I open in. it’s a plain black long women’s scarf, with beaded tassels. And a gold plated broache. The attire is for a eastern woman in her 60’s. I couldn’t have possibly got anything less useful to me.
Well never look a gift house In the mouth….. Guess what my wife’s getting for Xmas, saves me the money on the ironing board cover I was going to get her.
The place I have lunch most days. Has a Chinese opera society or something and the fund a school in china. There annual thing was coming up and the asked me to buy some raffle tickets. Raffles I used to be quite lucky as when I was a child. I won some gigantic teddy bear from Texas (the diy store) and I always used to do well in the school and village raffles. One year I was on my 6th prize from the same raffle, and they band me from winning anymore. Not that I minded I already had more cake than I could eat. This raffle at the Chinese 1st prise was a flight to Hong Kong. And I was really hoping I didn’t win it. Coz I was just a flight. And was pretty much set up as a good prise for someone from Hong Kong so they could go back and visit etc. not that good for anyone else. Unless you had enough money to get another flight for a partner or cohort. And hotel etc… so the prise in the long run would actually bankrupt me or not get used.
My phone rings. And im informed I have won a prize. And that I should go to the restaurant the next day. And on the phone im told not to ask what my prize is ill find out tomorrow. Ohh crap….. Not the flight please not the flight. Give that to someone who can use it and that wouldn’t normal be able to afford to go back and see family. Just a bottle of wine or a free lunch or something would be good.
I arrive. And Mary (her “English name”) starts rooting bout and checks my ticket. Thank fuck I haven’t won the flight. She goes over to a box of wrapped things.. and starts looking threw. And pulls out envelopes….. Shit I may have got a flight….. na na more of a fuss would be made. Envelopes go back in. I get a by royal mail size, midem sized package. It’s squishy so basically it’s a textile. So it’s a scarf. But there is a cardboard bit to it. Maybe backing maybe something else. I don’t open it there. Because im sure I would pull some kind of ungrateful face. and being English I try not to do that so I get my lunch and say my thankyous.
Back at work. I open in. it’s a plain black long women’s scarf, with beaded tassels. And a gold plated broache. The attire is for a eastern woman in her 60’s. I couldn’t have possibly got anything less useful to me.
Well never look a gift house In the mouth….. Guess what my wife’s getting for Xmas, saves me the money on the ironing board cover I was going to get her.
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