Okay, so ‘tomorrow’ was a long time coming. But I guess I’ve had a lot on my mind one way or another.
The bad news I mentioned is that our dog, Fred, who is only seven years old, was pronounced terminally ill by the vet. I was really shaken by the news, and on reflection not entirely convinced the vet wasn’t being overly fatalistic—but technically, Fred is mom’s dog, and she has accepted the diagnosis.
Read More »Bad News Explained
Argh. I have a few things to write on here, actually, if only to put it down somewhere. But I’m kinda pushed for time right… Read More »Bad News
Saturday was time to head down London way again. I was planning to go into Ilford while in town, to see my old pal Tim Bateman, but got caught in a rainfall and had to give it a miss. Although I had a nice, long chat with him on the phone, until he started worrying about his bill and rung off! Then I wandered round Waterstone’s for a while and bought a couple of books I couldn’t afford.
The train home was screwed. Surprise! The rail service has become shambolic. I had to get a train into Watford Junction and wait there for almost an hour to get another one into Brum. Then the train at Brum to take me back home was delayed. And since my feet were by then killing me (it was almost midnight), I decided to get a taxi from the station too. Costly, time-consuming and tiring.
Read More »Down in London
I’m still doing a fair bit of reading, and right now it’s still very much a Sherlock Holmes phase. If only the screen adaptations, which I’ve always found awfully dull, were this good…
Read More »Masque of Morbidity
Yup, almost two weeks since last entry, and I wish there was a lot to report, but it’s been mostly a time of thinking, along with a fair bit of reading. I’ve just read the first collection of Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories, which are very entertaining. I’ll probably read the others when I have chance, but I have a lot of other stuff to read, too.
Read More »Reading
I did need a break. In theory. But I ended up feeling pretty miserable most of the weekend, and guess what? The main reason was about the old chestnut itself: money.
Many things revolve around it. I don’t have much of it. I’d like lots of it. But hell, wouldn’t we all. I suppose if nothing else it has put me into a frame of mind where I’m fumbling for money-making schemes, and who knows, something might take off.
Read More »Money Money Money
Well, trip to London tomorrow and weekend break. And I really do need it. This has been a slightly stressful week—and yesterday, I was almost copped!
It was innocent enough. I went into a local Superdrug to pick up some deodorant and whatever, and when I left a security guard nabbed me and accused me of shoplifting! (No, I hadn’t been!) So he took me back into the store and insisted on checking my bag and receipt, but that wasn’t enough for him. He said, ‘I’ll have to get a female assistant to…’ Suddenly, my mind raced with paranoia! I was thinking, ‘N-n-not a strip search?’ But he went on, ‘…search your pockets.’
Then I got annoyed, and emptied the pockets of my jacket myself, exclaiming the nature of each item aloud as I did so. Apparently, this still didn’t satisfy him. He asked, ‘Whose wallet is that?’ I was about to go apeshit at that point, but another security guard showed up and started apologising for the ‘mistake’ profusely. My accuser beat a hasty retreat, and I screamed, ‘So how do I complain about that asshole?’
Read More »Unfair Cop
I remember another dream. Well, some of it. I was in a social situation, and for some bizarre reason became fixated upon my top, which was black—I wanted to change it to a red one which I happened to have handy, but under the circumstances it was kinda difficult.
Read More »Still Dreamin’
Strange dream last night. It was about some CD albums I own, but their titles seemed to be slightly ‘wrong,’ making me paranoid about them—like I thought I’d bought the wrong versions or something. Really silly, pointless stuff. When I woke up, I almost went to check the titles on the things, but I quickly got a reality check. I don’t really enjoy dreams like that. They’re not particularly symbolic or creative… just confusing.
Read More »Sweet Dreams are Made of This
I got asked to a pub last night where there was some karaoke going on. I don’t have a single clue why I bothered, because the mere concept is depressing—this is the kind of hopeless naffness you get sucked into when you don’t have a life. And sure enough, a parade of ageing and not-so-ageing exhibitionists mounted the stage and murdered a stream of 30-year-old songs that were crap to begin with.
Read More »Karaoke Queen