Friday 8th February 2019

Dear Diary,

It’s a shitty dull, wet and windy day here in Old Blighty. I’ve completed most of my morning tasks albeit in a resentful and lacklustre way. To be honest, I’m bored off my tits and hence why I’m here punching letters on a keyboard in order to share my thoughts with you.

Change is threatening the quasi mansion and I don’t like change, it disturbs my equilibrium and let’s face it, my equilibrium isn’t mega stable to begin with. I’m trying to be cool, calm and logical about it all. (Lie Detector breaks into hysterical laughter.) Yes, yes, I know, snowball’s chance in hell and all that.  

Dick’s equilibrium is also a bit dodgy at the moment on account of equine flu, not that he has it of course. He might be pure bred and highly strung, but so far equine flu has not made the leap from noble racehorses to posh humans. Equine flu has hit the gee-gee racing fraternity causing a cancellation of fixtures and meetings. Dick is gutted. He loves the racing season. He was looking forward to a weekend of studying form and shacking up down the local betting shop sharing tips with fellow punters.

I’ll be glad when the weather improves enough for me to get outdoors and gardening again. I’ve been thinking about applying to the council for an allotment plot so I can grow a bigger range of fruit and veg and maybe keep a chicken or two, just for the eggs. I could never neck a chuck for the oven, not one I was on a first name basis with. I’m just not that kind of guy. Self-sufficiency is one thing, strangling chickens is quite another.  Mind you. The way things are going it might be a waste of time applying for a plot, not with Shane and Dick rumbling about a possible change of location. I can’t even bear to think about moving. I love this house, I love where we live and I don’t want to go anywhere else.

I’m going to brave the crap weather outside. I’ve got a hair cut appointment this afternoon and maybe listening to lock chopper Jay moaning on about his problems will take my mind of my own concerns. I think I’ll treat myself to a junk food lunch in Burger King before I go. There’s something comforting about eating food that has enough saturated fat, salt and sugar to take five years off your life with every bite.

 

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