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Thursday, July 20

Thursday already

Despite being hampered by the air-show traffic, the week has still managed to progress rapidly to Thursday and I'm still concerned about being behind. As next Monday arrives, my life will hit a ridiculous pace, heading towards the lunacy of the Fringe, then beyond into the post-Fringe blues, the holiday planning, the holiday, the post-holiday blues and, before you know it, I'll have bought a house and be doing Crisis at Christmas... at least that's the plan for the end of the year.

I'm glad that I've been shedding the weight, since I don't think I'll be able to survive the next few months if I don't keep myself to less-than-lumbering-monster proportions.

Yesterday's plans for a post-work evening's recreation went slightly awry. If you text FILM to 241 on Orange, you get a code which entitles you to buy two tickets for the price of one at a cinema. If you then take those cinema tickets to Nando's, they give you two meals for the price of one. That, to me, sounded like a good night out. Half price on movies and flame-grilled Peri Peri chicken - two things I like a lot.

Sadly, the plans fell over. Some things in life are not as you imagine. For example, I imagined that the cousin I referred to a couple of posts ago was my mother's first cousin, but he is, in fact, the son of my mother's first cousin. Where does that leave us? Probably nowhere interesting. So, indeed, it's probably not interesting to make a big deal of why the plans failed. It was something to do with the combination of it being the hottest day of the year so far (I measured temperatures of 37 in my car on the way home, though the official highest temperature was 36.3 at Gatwick) and the fact that there were no movies on at the cinema which we jointly wanted to see.

Standing outside a cinema, near a Nando's, we questioned the whole trip. Why were we in Reading town centre at a complex with the facility to give us movies and chicken if we didn't want movies and chicken? Did we want food? Yes. It was late and we were hungry. Did we want chicken? We thought so. So what should we do.

We just had the chicken. It wasn't difficult. We eat a lot of this sort of thing and I think it's pretty good for you. We took a table outside, so we could see the people go by and get a nice breeze. In reality what this actually meant was that we got a wonky table and smoke from the neighbouring cancer-addicts. However, the food was characteristically good, so it was worth staying around for it.

Our neighbours at the next table were replaced by what I can only describe as a bunch of marketing wankers. There's no other way to describe them. Total utter wankers. Men and women alike. I don't know if they were ad-agency types, or perhaps in a marketing department. Maybe they were just the sort of people who think that marketing is the only real thing in the world. They were clearly a group of "special people" with received opinions and a low threshold for amazement. They were mulling over an acronym "TV", standing for "Terrific Vibes" - if you hear it in some marketing campaign somewhere, you'll know that it came from a bunch of air-headed twenty somethings who eat chicken. Personally, I thought it was nonsense. Just as I'd commented to my girlfriend that these people were winding me up and were total dicks (I think it was the conversation one started with another which I interpreted as "please can you give me advice on how to make the best use of my drugs"), one of the girls launched quasi-religiously into a rendition of Peter Kays "hilarious" garlic bread routine.

For those people who don't know Peter Kay's routine. Here it is.

"Garlic bread? Garlic? and bread?"

That's it. It's in the category of taking the perfectly normal and questioning it. It's funny because you take garlic bread for granted until someone points out how odd it sounds. It's funny because he delivers it so incredulously, and in his cute Boltonian accent... it's funny because...

...actually, it's not that funny at all. Mildly amusing at first and then remarkably annoying - especially when repeated by airheads who think that they're clever by liking the lowest-common-denominator style of comedy.

I'm not a Peter Kay fan.

After food we went to Tesco - one of our chapels of sin... there we bought some TCP (also the name of a networking protocol) to replace the 9-years-out-of-date TCP we found in the cupboard, along with some cotton wool - I wanted to redress my Guinea Pig bite and clean it up again.

Some clothes shopping was also performed and we bought some lettuce for the wee piggies.

Guinea Pig Fun
The last couple of days have been quite guinea pig oriented. Assembling the giant hutch/run was a task for an evening, as was being bitten in the thumb by the warring white fluffy one. It sounds like such a thing would be minor, but after being shoved around a lot, and put back in the same space as the other male, Wilfred was in a big fighting mood and he was not taking prisoners. As a result, I have thumb which spent some of yesterday swelling up and hurting. My writing, never the best, has been hampered by restrictions to my right hand's opposable appendage... basically, the day was spent remembering why it hurts to be attacked by a small rodent.

Yet there's more to do with the piggies. We are going to have to set up a Berlin-wall style divide in both the hutch and also the run. So, we'll probably have to do that tonight. We still have to feed these creatures, which don't, individually, mean any harm - except to each other. Hell, we may even get another one.

There is a certain satisfaction to be gained from watching Wilfred climb the ramp which I modified to have more rungs for his little feet... even though his is responsible for much pain and throbbing.

Taking off the steri-strips last night, I discovered that my wound had some weeping to do and I bathed it in hot water and TCP... it feels a bit better today. I know I'm being a drama queen about this, but I don't want an infection, especially on the thing I use to write, drive, play the piano and guitar, and type (well, to hit the space bar). Now is not a time to have my body go out of action for any reason.

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