Monday 23rd July 2018

Dear Diary,

I thought it was time to drop in and deliver some more words of houseboy wisdom, or verbal drivel, as Shane calls it.

Last time I was down this way I complained about the weather and I shall do so again, only this time I’m going to moan about how fucking hot it is. Summer finally rode into my town and with all guns blazing. Oh my days, the heat, man, the heat! What is wrong with you, weather? This is England for Pete’s sake. Three hot days and a thunderstorm, that’s an English summer, not this merciless sunshine. To be honest, I enjoy the days, but the nights are hell. We’re all sleeping in different rooms otherwise there’d be a bloodbath. Hot muggy nights put a strain on even the best of relationships.

We’re practically living in the summerhouse at the moment. As soon as dinner is over we all retire down there to enjoy the long warm evenings. Due to my hard work the gardens are looking good. ZZ is back now, so of course he’s helped, a bit. Don’t tell him, but I was so pleased when he returned, I nearly offered him a chocolate biscuit with his morning cuppa. Sanity prevailed. After all, he had abandoned me for an age. He didn’t deserve the luxury of a choccy biscuit. I let him have a custard cream.

Joking aside, ZZ and me make a good gardening team, thanks to my expert supervision. I concentrate on the borders and greenhouse plants, while his focus is on keeping the lawns trim and green, which is a struggle in this dry heat. He’s been hosing like a ninja. The other day I caught him shaking a fist at the sky while muttering ‘rain, damn you, rain!’  I’ve been taking the piss out of him ever since. Rain, damn you, rain, has become a meme for just about anything. Every time I use it he threatens to drown me in the pond.

There was a bit of drama in the quasi mansion this morning. Dick came down to breakfast looking crisp and fresh in blue jeans and a cool, loose white shirt, wafting Versace cologne around the kitchen. He looked well hot, and not in a sweaty way. I confess to lustful stirrings and made to act upon them, until I saw it, adorning the top of his shirtsleeve, a fucking big spider. My lust faded, overcome by bug repulsion. I hate spiders. I asked Dick if Shane knew he’d adopted a pet. He looked puzzled. I put him in the picture, pointing at his on arm passenger. I swear to God, I nearly shit a brick at his reaction. His eyes widened and his mouth emitted a bellow of sheer horror. He hates spiders too, most men do. He began jerking and flailing his arm, trying to dislodge the creature. It hung on. It must have had suckers on all eight of its legs. He had to resort to physically flicking it off with his hand. Worry not, arachnid lovers, it lived to terrorise another day, scuttling across the kitchen floor to find some lair to hide out in.

Poor Dick.  He looked traumatised.  He turned on me, his eyes flashing fury. I was accused of planting the spider on him. Honestly, my two have no trust in me. Yeah, okay, I like to joke around, but no way would I handle a spider, not a big one. Plus, as I pointed out, I’d been busy making his brekkie while he got ready for work. I hadn’t been anywhere near him or his shirt. I then started laughing. I couldn’t help it. I howled until my ribs ached, sputtering as I tried to describe the look on his face and his break-dancing efforts to jettison the beast. In the end his sense of humour won out and he joined in with my laughter.

Writing news is fair to middling. I have made some progress, if only a little. The weather isn’t conducive to hunching over a computer and I’ve got other stuff I have to do. Summer is a busy time for me. But, like I said, it’s progressing. I’ve completed another chapter, though that said I’m not sure they are chapters. They’re too long. They’re more like micro stories in their own right, and that’s what I think Revs is about, it’s less a chapter-by-chapter, month-by-month kind of book and more like a telling of various linked events, if that makes any kind of sense?

Anyway, time to scoot. I’ve got a pair of jeans I want to bleach. Before I go, let me say a big hello and thank you to all who have emailed of late. I appreciate your interest.

Ciao for now, Peeps. Stay well. Enjoy the summer weather and remember, slap on the sun block. Don’t be like me and end up with a back and shoulders so red and glowing they showed up on satellites charting global warming, as did my bottom when Shane learned I’d worked shirtless in the garden under a boiling sun without covering myself in factor 50.


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