alrighty?
Had a very pleasant evening, just sat and read my book in silence. I ploughed through about a third of that wheeler autobiography, fascinating reading. I'm looking forward to him talking about his theoretical physics stuff, later in his life. It's interesting reading about all the different personalities of the leading physicists of the time. I love my living room, it's so big with the lovely bay windows. I think an evening spent in my living room with a book and gin and tonic is my idea of a perfect evening (well, of a type, obviously I enjoy a night with the missus and that). The hours seem to take so much longer to pass. I got a nice early night and just lay there with the slight bit of light coming through the edges of the huge windows with only the sound from the movement of the trees as I drifted off, lovely. I had odd dreams (seem to remember it had summat to do with ordinary life being like quantum physics, tragically enough), but they weren't scary or owt, just odd. Had an earlyish start today, to come in to texture a fucking ribbon. It's as exciting as it sounds. Thankfully Daz hasn't come back with anything yet.
Drove in today by a different route and came down on to a road from a hill and had a view inside a large old peoples home. they were prepping the cavernous tv room, ready to wheel them in to their big piss resistant plastic leather effect chairs. All day sat watching daytime telly in a room filled with the stench of disinfectant and a smidgen of shit and piss while sat under those horrid yellow lights. That could almost be classed as a torture technique. At least if I'm off ill from work I can turn the fucking telly off. Day after day after day of cash in the attic, quincy repeats and shouty jeremy kyle type shows. Fucking hell. I suppose I should be grateful that I'll never reach that age, thank heavens for small mercies and that. My mam used to work as a geriatric nurse, years ago. She took pity on an old fella who had no one visiting him, even though he had a son. When she left nursing she would still go in to see him and take him out for day trips with us kids and that. He had parkinsons so it was hard to tell what he was saying but he was a nice old fella but by christ it was depressing to visit him in hospital. A lot of them were mad, many couldn't control their toilet functions and some were just sat stock still, eyes open and the jaw slack, unable to speak or do much of anything really. terrible stuff. I'll never forget being rushed in to Freeman hospital with my penicillin allergy and got put in a fairly grim ward. Late one night a really old fella was brought in and put on the bed next to me. He'd lost all ability to do anything and was going to die, basically. He had a special movable bed and just lay there, already having the appearance of an ancient cadaver. I remember the audable gasp of his breath. His head was turned towards my bed with his mouth agape, with an almost comical look of shock on his face. I couldn't face looking at him, the face and noise terrified me (I was 17 at the time) and I just huddled in to my bed and curled up facing the other way trying to cover my ears so I didn't hear that terrifying drawn out gasping sound. He died during the night.
Anyway, I'm wearing a new t-shirt today, so that's nice. |
