I’d forgotten it was a bank holiday, but still they phoned me on a Saturday to question my money management techniques. Bastards, make them sweat I say, they can’t hurt me, I’m self employed so my credit rating isn’t worth the paper it isn’t written on anyway.
We had lunch halfway through our wee family galavant today, I fancied a baked tattie as it looked the safest option on the menu, and Joycee joined in. When they arrived, the “side salad” turned out to be potato salad. And crisps. That’s three different ways of hiding a potato on the same plate. Surely someone in the kitchen is either having an alternative comedy moment, a customer observation test or confirming their IQ to be in the I dunno, the mid-teens?
Nice though, but no more tatties until Tuesday.
The roads were horrific. Cars were being driven with the same aptitude as a drunk trying a new sport for the first time. Put it down and piss off home I say.
Still, I spent the day in an Iron Maiden t-shirt for the first time since the late 80’s. Iron Maiden has been the soundtrack to my week, and it’s been a joy. I’ve rediscovered the wonders of the Seventh Son album, confirmed my memories that much of Somewhere in Time is ropey, and laughed out loud as Dickinson wailed “In a time when dinosaurs ruled the earth…” How the hell they ever let that one get onto vinyl I don’t know.
I’ve just had chilli hotdogs and I really think tomorrow isn’t going to be on a hill as planned, just can’t be arsed. My finger’s healing okay, I don’t think I mentioned the I opened my finger up like a split seam in a run-over bananana with a stanley knife a week or so ago? The immobilizing strapping was another reason I shandied the Cobbler’s top. Still, should be yet another good scar, actually it’s right through another old scar, one more and I’ll have been tagged by a miniature Zorro.
Anyway, back to the movie.
PS Joycee said that my “They should be wrapped in barbed wire and rolled down a hill” statement was an unreasonable response to an X-Factor entrant.
I was apparently also unfair in my assessment of an oufit seen earlier in the day where every inch of denim below and polyester above had thick screen printed advertising in either white or silver, even the turnups on the jeans had it for Darwin’s sake. It looked like the poor bastard had been upholstered in a combination of magazine pages and road signs.