It’s been a while.
Looking great, as ever.
Hey, remember Dannii?
You know, Daniiii, from two.
Well she wrote back to me the other day: turns out she’s not some terrible witch but a nice young girl who likes cats and video games. She apologised for the delay in reply and for being such a sourpuss (she was in a job that she hated also) and offered to embark on a one woman crusade to find me the job I deserve.
She was very sweet and funny and nice.
Before all this further hoo-hah, I wrote back to her.
Things have picked up significantly since.
So much so that on Monday I found myself in Quality Save buying discount aqueous cream filled suddenly full of a happiness I’d come to believe was only achievable by chemical means.
It was nice.
I’m a lot less comfortable sharing happinesses than their obverse and sorry if this is all a bit of a drag to hear.
Where have I been?
I went to London, for a while. Not nearly long enough to explain my absence from here but still, a while – my entire haul a £200 cheque addressed to one Mr. Benedict Le Gauche – problematic for reasons that need no explanation. Aside from that boon, London didn’t work out. It was a blow and I’ve been trying to write it out for too long now and sorry.
I should declare it dead and sneak up on its corpse maybe.
Other than that I have been putting heart and soul into the caretaking.
The day before yesterday, when sweeping out the yard at work, I found in the corner amidst the wet wipes, the crisp packets and red clay of the crumbling building itself, the beaded eyes of a pigeon in the last throes of life.
Yesterday I scraped the remains of same pigeon (minus pigeon-soul), from the ground with a shovel, whilst a tramp changed his trousers on the bench that we-for-no-reason have in the yard.
The tramp refused to return my hello or my offer of cigarette or even the theatrical nod I gave him to indicate that we were both human beings and what were doing ran alongside the natural course of things and was nothing to be ashamed of.
He had different ideas, perhaps.
I paraboled the pigeon into the bin from ten full yards, thinking he’d appreciate one last flight.
My life is my life whether I like it or not.
Shan’t be caretaking for long though, as you’ve read.
I think the redundancy is a great present, for Christmas.
I don’t quite know how they’re going to wrap it.
Oh no, I do.
A lot of people have been directed to my site via various search engine queries, here are some of my favourites:
Also, mother has advised that I monetise the site with adverts. I fucking hate adverts. And though this is probably the sole way I’m ever going to make money from this and though I know wordpress sometimes sneak adverts onto the pages and pays me nothing for the pleasure, I fucking hate adverts. I don’t want people to even have to ignore adverts like I do on my ‘free’ version of Microsoft word.
I have gone to the length though, of adding a donation button on the ‘hello’ page of the website. I do not at all expect you to give me anything but you may if you feel compelled to.
It’s nice to clear Dannii’s name.
I think we’re back up and running.