Well, here we go again, its my week in words.
Amazingly, not all that much to report. I got mad at other drivers on the road. Namely, those in expensive cars that know neither a) where their indicators are and b) where they left their brain cell.
I’m sorry but it really isn’t hard to move your hand slightly and let other road users know which direction you intend to travel without inconveniencing them, nor is it hard to not travel
all the way up my arse very close to my back license plate. If I am travelling too slowly for you, then please feel free to overtake me, I’m not really all that bothered. Just because you are in an enormously ridiculously expensive car that boosts your ego does not mean I’m driving any faster for you. Either follow me or sod off. Period.
I saw Rob Bell last night. He talked, I listened, and I ate pizza. I’ve adopted my friend (against his will) to be my adopted elder brother, and he came too. As did a recent acquaintance, and my parents.
I also went on holiday to Spain. It was incredibly warm and sunny, and I even have tan lines.
Back to England, and back to being incredibly critical, cynical and dry humored. In that English way.
Margaret Thatcher died. I am traditionally a Labour voter, but I have no opinion on the woman except it sounded like she sucked if you were poor and a miner. Do I think she deserved a million pound funeral that I helped pay for in my taxes? No I don’t. I doubt any Conservative will dig deep into their pockets to pay for my send off at any rate.
Sorry to cast any aspersions on Will and Kate’s life but I felt just the same, yay for getting married and having sex and making a child, but really, I hardly found Zara and Mike getting that kind of attention. Just saying.
My post is quite negative, I am aware. It is raining and I’m cold and I have to muck out my hamsters when I’ve finished writing this, along with finishing some more of my paperwork. So please forgive my lack of sunny disposition. Besides, I have an early get up tomorrow to drive to Carnforth and be joined on the M6 North by the convoy of commuters.
Mr Emmy is in Patterdale in the lakes this week on a field excursion of some sort. I haven’t heard from him since he left so I’m hoping he’s alright and I’m avoiding any soppy spoony love films and watching murder films instead to avoid being caught up on the fact I do actually quite miss him.
I will maintain my hardened exterior.
Anyway enough from me.
Hope the sun is shining on you this week.