Thursday, September 02, 2004

July 31 (Saturday): Third Saturday running at attempting to get to Clacton in time to get to Colin's and get my do done. Unfortunately Stevo crashed last night and its like having a fucking log, dead on my sofa. WAKE UP!

For two hours, fully clear headed, I casually peruse the web. I happen across some snide comments about myself with regards to me and Gringo Records. I also discover that Gringo Records is now being distributed by Cargo so not to worry. News wise, I find myself stunned to hear that Danny Williams, an unknown British boxer, last night put Mike Tyson away in four.

Stevo eventually begins to murmur around 10 AM when I am making it none too obvious that I want to get moving. At the same, I find myself feeling really bad and yet really satisfied. I think I hit home the point a bit too far last night that I wanted to be out the door to Clacton early as possible this morning as Stevo comes through for me and gets moving almost as soon as he gets up, even to the point he doesn't take a piss. This is actually in the end all really appreciated as I already have had my parents on the computer asking me if I can give them a lift somewhere for midday and making sure that I can/will look after the dog today. Apparently today there is some family trip to Braintree for mum and her sisters to visit some aunt who is about 96.

Me and Steve walk to the office and on the way stop off at the Layer Road General Store where Stevo gets some magic potion for his hangover. Bless his heart, he asks me if I want anything. This morning he obviously hasn't even seen a mirror this morning, he still has the funniest bedhead ever seen by man. He continues to pain about needing a piss, almost to the point of suggesting pissing in a bush on Layer Road. Luckily there is the cottaging toilet on Butt Road that I am able to point him towards. Eventually we arrive at the office where Jack is already in working and we get rumbled by him, so we go inside and say “hi�. Jack today seems super relaxed and very chatting, quite the opposite of yesterday evening/last night. While we’re talking there is a huge clap of thunder and the morning that started out so beautifully turns to pissy shit rain. We leave and Stevo must still be pissed and in no state to drive. I get the impression that he wants to hang out today but I really want a break from work and work types, I need to disassociate with the place at least once a week, generally the more the better I say. Stevo gives me a lift to Creffield to pick up my car (and to get his porno DVDs back) and then he has gone. Later on in the day I discover a dink in the door/paintwork of the back driver's side, bad move leaving it there over night.

Quickly in the rain I do my rounds acquiring the Saturday newspapers and I fly off to Clacton to get my haircut and sort my olds out. As the weather improves I find myself held up on the A120 trying to get home. The highway was jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive. Who on earth wants to come to Clacton for daytrip, that’s pretty low.

When I finally get to Clacton and I find myself running even later than I could really ever imagine and as I head to Colin’s for the trim, I see my parents drive past in the opposite direction and the realisation that I have let them down for a lift sets in. Luckily though I do just about manage to get to Colin’s in time for a haircut but unfortunately it is late in his day by which time Dick has already left and he is eager to get home himself, so he is probably rushing cuts to get away. I get the usual and it feels fantastic to have short hair again.

When I get home, into 58 Hereford Road the dog is pretty happy to see me. I soon realise that whenever I come to visit the olds that these days I am finding myself becoming much too comfortable. I hit the sofa and prepare myself for a lazy Saturday and a double bill of Relic Hunter, two episodes back to back baby. Towards the end of the second episode my phone beeps and it is Tom text messaging from Italy. He is out there visiting a young lady and by the tone of his flappy text message it sounds like it he may have just ballsed it up. At the same time though, it sounds like it may be one of his overreactions. Either way, I do my best with some choice words attempted at making his situation at least feel/seem better even if he has messed (which to be honest I doubt so).

Later I find myself jogging over the internet on my parents PC and I come across a website selling all the episodes of The Adventures Of Pete And Pete on DVD. This is my lost ark, Pete And Pete is the great lost kids tv show and nowhere near enough people got to see it back in the day.

In the early evening after making a terrible attempt at cooking dinner, stuffing myself and potentially food poisoning myself in the process, I watch my Till Death Us Do Part DVD and fall asleep (maybe it wasn’t as good as I once thought).

I try to get away early evening but suddenly, after sleeping through the day, the dog is up and full of energy/beans. Oh, I see now why he requires babysitting. Around 9pm I begin attempts at making a move home but he just persists in following me around everything and staring at me with a stupid dog grin. I stay a little longer to take care of him and find myself watching Caddyshack on TCM and having a great time, is it just me or are Billy Murray and Chevy Chase timeless? In the end I leave the dog at 11pm, I just have to get away from being so comfortable, it might make me move home. What a nightmare that would be.

np: Kenny Loggins - I'm Alright


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