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Had a real tidying afternoon today.
I’ve decided that I hate almost all of the chores around the house so much that I’m not sure I believe anyone that says they enjoy them.
Changed the bed. Now I‘ve got this down to about 5 minutes, but I decided to turn the mattress which added about an hour when the bed slats came out and I had to go and buy my first ever hammer to whack them back in. My toolbox now contains a screwdriver and a hammer. Real Man.
Took the bin out, which I couldn’t put off any longer. I was on the verge of having to start a secondary bin. As I stepped out the front door I slipped on ice and very nearly ended up on my backside. Luckily the only person that saw smiled but didn’t laugh.
The only job I don’t seem to mind doing is the washing up. I’m sure everyone else pretends they’re on Blue Peter showing people how to wash up when they’re doing it as well.
I never have to wash very much up, so it doesn’t take long. Living on my own does have one perk then.
The only time I hear the word thermostat is when I stay at my parent’s house.
I went home for the weekend because I had some time off work, but if my Mum asks it was for Mothers Day.
The problem with the thermostat in their house is that the central heating always seems to be on. They seem to like the house at a balmy 90 degrees. I seem to moan about the temperature more than anything else in my life, so you can imagine how annoying it is.
If I could post about my stay at my parents on Trip Advisor I would ask them to look at the following issues:
When I ask not to be woken up in the morning I mean just that. So please learn to whisper at a quieter volume and do something about the door in to the spare bedroom whose hinges seem to be louder than a jet engine taking off.
Neighbours is not a programme that should be watched and series linked by a retired couple.
There is nothing wrong with me, work is going fine. No I haven’t spoken to my brother. No I haven’t got a girlfriend. No I don’t know why. Stop asking.
On the plus side, the amount of sweets and wine to be found around the house is plentiful, but don’t judge me when I have another glass. I can see you doing it.
All in all the stay at the Parents I would score a 3 out of 5.
I’m currently writing this in the dark and with the heating off. It’s cold. My parents may be on to something.
It was the Capital Suit and Tie tonight.
It’s not often I get to dress up in a suit, unless it’s one of the numerous weddings I’ve been to over the last few years that have now been turned into numerous christenings that I now seem to go to.
It’s also not often that I get to go out during the week, or at all. I prefer my life about 7 years ago if I’m honest. It was easier to go to the pub during the week and stay up past 9. I was also 7 years younger.
The party was really good. Girls turned up in ties and men turned up in suits, so they stuck to the dress code, which is very important. I like rules. Everyone knows where they stand with rules. They had all made an effort.
However, I was surprisingly asked to choose the person who had made the least effort. Thanks for that. That meant I would have to talk to strangers and judge them on their appearance. WHILST THEY WERE IN THE ROOM. I usually judge people in the safety of my own head.
I decided the best way to avoid being beaten up was to provide a list of generic names and leave without anyone noticing. Not being beaten up is very important to me.
I would still take it over having to talk to strangers though.
The sun came out for a bit today, so my main task for the day was to find a holiday.
The sun should work for travel companies. It makes everybody happier and puts people in the mood to travel. It would have no problem selling you 2 weeks in Spain at an extortionate price but it would do it with such flair that you would spend the money just to keep the sun happy.
But not me it would seem. I spent 3 hours searching every online travel agent available searching for an ideal holiday.
I’m not made of money but I looked over the entire world and couldn’t really find anywhere I really wanted to go. Mexico, Kenya, The USA, Goa, New Zealand, Greece all got crosses on my list. Not that they aren’t great places, they all seem really lovely, but they all had the dreaded single persons supplement added.
This is the bane of my holiday life. I have to travel on my own, that would seem like punishment enough, but no. Holiday companies love to kick you when you’re down so not only are you sad and lonely, you have to pay extra or the pleasure of being sad and lonely.
So on the basis of a 3 hour search today, I won’t be going on holiday this year.
I’ve decided that from now on my holiday days will be known as retirement days.
I spent today living the life of a man in my seventies and to be honest I didn’t hate it.
Started off by taking some stuff to my local charity shop. A charity shop has a distinctive smell. It’s a bit like a loft. Loads of books and some unwanted clothes are now going to a worthwhile cause and are out of my flat. Which is the most important thing.
Went to the shops after just for a look around. Spent some time looking at TV stands as I need a new one, but at £100 a go I can cope with the one I have. If they had one in the charity shop I would have looked to have made a deal. In fact charity shops should be a place where you can barter for stuff. I could have given them a mystery bag and seen if they’d accept it for the TV stand. It would be a bit like being a rubbish pirate.
After having a good look in all the shop windows I went to a café for a cup of tea and a bit of cake. It was very sophisticated. Apart from all the crying babies as I’d arrived at mother and baby time. Tell you what mums, just let them cry while you have a good chat. It wasn’t at all annoying.
Had a lie down in the afternoon, as I felt I’d earned it. I could get used to being retired. It’s better than being at work.
People have strange hobbies. Mine are many and varied. Football, Rugby, cricket, running, cycling, Films. Gigs. Depends what’s on the tele really.
Whilst driving home, I spotted a uni-cyclist
Uni-cycling is just bike riding with a puncture, yet it covers so many different areas of society. From exercise, to circuses, to magic. You very rarely see a fat magician. Apart from most of them.
Now I was always of the opinion that people that do uni-cycling and those types of things are a bit well, strange. They’re the people you see at festivals that haven’t gone for the music or good time, but to be at one with the earth, or if my experience of festivals is anything to go by puddles.
This unicyclist was really going for it. Bombing along really quickly. Strange yet also exhausting I would have thought. But the reason he was going so quickly was there was another unicyclist a little way ahead. He caught her up and they held hands and cycled off, wobbling, in to the sunset.
I’ve decided not to be so judgmental about our friend the uni-cyclist. If a man who hasn’t really grown up and prefers one wheel to 2 or even 4 can find another Uni-cyclist to spend time with, then there’s hope for me yet.
I’ve got a driving licence though, so sorry female uni-cyclists.
Must have changed clothes about 5 times. Was I going to some celeb filled party where I would be asked who I was wearing as I walked down a paparazzi riddled red carpet?
Was I going to a job interview so I can get away from the constant bullying I receive from my co-workers on a daily basis?
I was getting my haircut.
Finding the right clothes to get a haircut is trickier than you’d think. You need to find something smart enough to wear outside the house, but not too good to get hair all over. You also need to factor in when you want to wear it again, so you can allow washing time, but you also need to add ironing time for that if it’s one of the few things you actually iron. You also need to consider whether people would notice that you’ve made extra effort in what you wear and if you have, you can’t wear it. It also has to fit with your current style as then it would be obvious that you’re wearing something you don’t mind getting hairy.
It was a nightmare. It must have taken 5 minutes out of my day.
See women, I changed 5 times and it took 5 minutes. So why does it take you 2 hours just to change once?
Being single, I suppose, isn’t too bad…
Currently writing this with a body temperature of about 800 degrees as man-flu has claimed another innocent, yet handsome, victim.
Fell asleep on the sofa earlier and when I woke up I felt much worse. So much for the medicinal effects of a good sleep. I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror earlier and I would describe the colour of my face as Solent grey.
Women don’t understand the significance of man-flu. It is a real and illness. I get no sympathy because I have no one to give it, but if you’re at work and you say you’re a bit bunged up, the instant reaction of any woman is to pretend you are a baby and ask if you need your nappy changing.
Yet if I say something about all the tablets in their drawer they they swear keeps them healthy yet they have more sick days than work days, the tissues, the hand lotions that have absolutely no effect, and the radiator under your desk because you can’t handle the seasons change, it’s the end of the world.
I’ve never had a sick day from work, and I don’t intend to start now. What would I do? Sit in my chair and watch TV? I do that on my healthy days…
Just when I thought I’d turned over a new leaf with this new bubbly personality I managed to prove once again how unpopular I am. There was charity day at work to raise money for one of the charities the company runs.
Now I do my bit. I give blood and I’m on a couple of donor lists. I’ve even filled out one of the forms the charity muggers in the street ask you to fill out. I didn’t fill it out properly, but it’s a start. I just wasn’t joining in this time.
For this reason…
The aim was that each member of staff raised £30. This is where I have a problem with it. The company who give me my money for services I provide them are asking me to give that money they’ve given to me for services I provide them back to them. Am I the only one that thinks that a bit stupid?
I decided that I would rather keep the money and give it to my local shop in return for food.
Now I’m sure everyone here raised loads of money and it’ll go to a good cause. People like helping people. But let’s remember this is a place where there is a sign reminding people to put things in and take things out of a dishwasher.
Lets make sure we can look after ourselves for a bit.
I may hide in the studio when this is read on the radio.
Had, even by my standards, a really disappointing weekend.
Was supposed to be visiting friends on Saturday and Sunday, but got calls from each of them saying they couldn’t have me because their girlfriends weren’t well. I was already on my way the second time. I’ve decided not to get too excited about plans now. I was forced to eat donuts and watch Rugby.
Can’t wait until I have a girlfriend to blame not wanting to go out on.
Writing this diary is becoming a right pain in the faff. Granted it’s the longest I’ve ever written a diary for and I can put that in the achievement column but it’s definitely becoming exactly like doing homework. I dread having to do it each night.
I never left my homework when I was at school until the last minute, I never had to pull an all nighter at uni, but I almost have to with this. I regretted letting Gillies and Emily know about this diary about 30 days ago, now I have no choice but to write it, so they can have a good old laugh at my ‘tragic’ life.
One thing that brings a smile to my face is that when Gillies has his baby his social life will be worse than mine.
That’s something to look forward too