It’s Saturday. Saturdays are weird if you’ve got nothing planned. Today the highlight has been finally getting a door put on the bathroom. With thanks to the school caretaker and after a whole lot of farting about, ordering and re-ordering doors by the Bman (who apparently can’t measure properly).
I wandered up to Morridogs with the youngest childerbeast to purchase strawberries for the annual Famalam Sunday luncheon at The Moss tomorrow. On the way we saw a convoy of about two dozen showy cars gunning down Dick Lane (I’m serious). Lambos, Rolls, Porsches, Ferraris. It was either an Indian wedding party or the queue for WANKERFEST 2017. Judging by the snazzy threads the drivers and passengers had on, I’m going with wedding. We tried very hard to ignore their continuous attention seeking engine revving. If I’ve taught my girls anything, it’s that that they should not be suckered in by a man in a flash car. Don’t give them the satisfaction of noticing them. Idiots on quads who are clearly not carrying out essential farming works though are a different matter. It is perfectly acceptable to shout “QUAD WANKER” at them as they pass, whilst making with the universal matching sign language. In the words of Morrissey – “It happens a lot round here”.
The thrill seeking entertainment for the rest of Saturday will likely involve watching the rest of Catchphrase while yelling at the telly. Possibly having a couple of ciders and seeing if anyone is playing on text or whatsapp (I expect not. They are all likely having far more fun than me).
Next week though. A different story, for in the early hours of Monday (“We rise at dawn” – in fact earlier than dawn! 3am for 3:30 if you will) for a weeks jolly to Tenerife. Just me and my childerbeast. A bit of sunshine and loafing by, and in, the pool.
Bring it on MoFos (but those mosquitos can fuck right off this year!)