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| A couple of pints after work. Grand. Waiting at the junction today was a man on a motorbike cradling a paperboys bag. Since when has delivering papers moved in to the realm of using adults on motorbikes? Mind, the two really old fellas doing it round our way make for a curious sight on the roads. One doddery old boy with a hunchback who is always weaving across busy roads with little warning, it's a wonder he hasn't been killed yet. Ah, memories of delivering papers. did it for about 5 months in whitburn, I stayed on at the end purely for the christmas tips. Made about 65 quid form the old dears. They thought I did the morning papers as well but some other lad did that, so I got all his tips too. One old dear who had a big load of steps down to her house and a tiny letter box gave me twelve old 5 p's, and it was past the deadline for exchanging them 'err, thanks'. Worst memory was having to borrow my dads mountain bike as mine was knacked and coming off a high curb and landing on the middle bar (as it was too high for my feet to touch the ground) with the full weight of about 90 fucking huge friday echo's and chronicles. I was in agony for about half an hour, just lying in the road. I could never be arsed delivering the magazines that people wanted so when sorting out the papers I just used to put them back on the magazine shelf behind some others. understandably people complained and he didn't even bollock me when he found the magazines on the shelf with all the addresses penciled on the back. Of course I packed it in as soon as christmas was done as it was shit. As I walked to the end of my road a car passed me but had to squeeze past another car and drive close to the pavement. he drove quite quickly through a muddy puddle spraying my shoes so when he got to the junction 20 yards ahead, i could see him looking a bit worried in his rear view mirror, like I was going to come and shoe his panels in, but he needn't have panicked, saying as it only splashed my shoes I just opted to look at him in his mirror and mouth the words 'you fucking cunt'. The was a baby shoe lying in the gutter in Bromley with 'princess in training' written on it. Can't fucking wait for my day off tomorrow, it will be ace. I shall go to the gym when it will hopefully be empty and do a full work out then veg about in the saunas and that before heading home, nice dinner, reading and watching a film before heading out for sunderland wolves match at Patrick's, my local. I'll be the only one in there remotely interested in the match, but hey. Last time I watched a match in there was last seasons game with man utd, where their slim title hopes were scuppered by us getting a 0-0 draw. I enjoyed watching all the southern man u fans anguish, made me chuckle. My flatmate is away for the weekend so I am going to have a very nice relaxed time. Although i think I shall pop up to christmas tree farm with some big bags of carrots and feed the lads up there. And some seed for the geese because geese are great. As are the Rheas they have there, you can't feed them if you are wearing scrunchies, sunglasses etc as they will steal them. Which I'd like to see. Been having a look at some pictures of roker on flickr. Seeing the prom with the waves lashing up brings back memories. As does the little footbridge across Roker park that we used to occasionally throw water bombs or devil bangers off before hiding. It'll be February before I get up home again, almost a year since the last visit. I only average about once, maybe twice a year these days. Isn't home any more and won't be again so I don't know why I even refer to it as 'home'. Flatmate left me his excess mash from his bangers and mash in the fridge for me so after cornflakes I heated up some ace mash, great way to start the day. Mash is ace. | ||
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