I found myself all alone last night. Rebecca only pops home from time to time for money, food or to be transported somewhere else populated with cooler folks than her parents, so she was out and Louise and Emily went out to watch some singing show of some kind. Of course I was paying attention when they told me where they were going.
I was frankly too tired to be going anywhere and voted to stay at home and do absolutely nothing. With the usual choice of the obligatory singing contest or Ant n Dec’s (absolutely not Noel’s House Party) Takeaway, I was looking for something to watch.
I happened upon a film called This Is The End, so I gave it a chance. That was probably one more chance than it deserved to be honest. It was hard work, self-indulgent, and anything but funny. It features a lot of actors like Seth Rogen and James Franco who normally appear in gross out comedies such as Superbad, Knocked Up, Pineapple Express and the like. The concept looked promising, but my God it was tedious.
After an hour I was bored, not entertained and found myself wondering what time Match of the Day was on. I did glean that the subject matter of the film was all about the end of the world, and that dear reader is where this long winding path was leading you.
We do not have a Florida holiday booked, and it is nearly April. If this does not signal the end of times then I don’t know what would. Some bloke down south has just won £108 million on the lottery, and he will probably still go to work and just put a conservatory on his semi, and we can’t afford a few grand on a couple of weeks of sun, fun and excessive eating. Third world famine and that fact prove that the world is a cruel and unfair place.
The pain is growing inside me at a similar pace to the resentment I feel towards that lottery winner. It hurts, and it hurts even more that I know we won’t be going. In past years, it has been touch and go, dependent upon us finding affordable flights, but in the end we always went. Not this year. I won’t bore you (again) with the circumstances that mean we cannot afford to go this year, but it is all Louise’s fault. As long as you understand that then that’s fine.
I was having a wee earlier (there was no pain involved in that thankfully) and I could hear, drifting down from Emily’s room (she is in the attic room), the emotional melody of O Canada. It triggered the memory banks and I was almost blubbing over the toilet bowl. With eyes closed I could just imagine the film in the Canada pavilion ending and Martin Short giving his closing lines. I’d also made a right mess of the bathroom floor, but that isn’t important.
So why life carries on as if nothing was awry I do not know. At any moment you should expect fire, plague and pestilence and my protruding bottom lip being a feature of the landscape for the forseeable future.
Damn you Disney for being so desirable. Your magic is like crack cocaine, and I am deep in cold turkey. Should you be in possession of a countdown to your US holiday, treasure it, stroke it, make it feel special. They are splendid creatures, and to be cherished. When you don’t have one, the world is a little less bright and the future a little less shiny.
In non resentful, Disney deprived sulky news, Louise and I are off to the cinema later. Having seen each other for several minutes last week due to work, shifts and the need for sleep, it will be nice to just be the two of us. Rebecca…well you know where she is, and Emily is out with one of her friends from some Frankie n Benny-ness and then onto the same cinema, but for a different film.
Let us all hope that our choice of Monuments Men is a good deal better than the dross I endured last night. No matter though, whatever I am sat in front of there shall be sweets, and therefore I shall be happy. Happiness is all relative of course in a world of no countdown. Life is so cruel!
Till the next time.