D I Why?

What do you mean  I have to write a blog? I have season five of Breaking Bad throbbing away on my Netflix account.

How inconvenient. This has pretty much been the story of my week. I have had more hair than free time, and I can think of no more extreme metaphor for my time poorness.

Work has been manic, and unexciting at the same time, and at home I have been a whirling dervish of DIY. Fed up at the crapness of the state of our house we made a list of stuff we should have done months ago, and resolved to do it.

These tasks involved more sweat and effort on my part than monetary investment, but should make the place look like it is owned by somebody who hasn’t squandered every last penny on ridiculous holidays.

I undertook one of those tasks that you try to put off until either you can afford to pay someone else to do it or death. I painted the hall, stairs and landing walls. The horror you are imagining is not sufficient to reflect the reality. We live in an old house, and in those days it seems the higher the walls the better.

As well as having to actually cover vast acres of wall with a roller I had to assume positions not seen since nine and a half weeks to get to those hard to reach spots.

I haven’t sweated as much since I last thought I might have to buy a round. With that complete, I did a bit of painting in Rebecca’s room, glossed our bedroom window sills (we inconveniently have two) and then took on my least favourite task of all….wallpapering.

We were to have a “feature wall” behind the headboard. Louise poo pooed my idea of diamante encrusted mirrors and a smoke machine, and instead chose some wallpaper which was both duck egg, and patterned. The latter fact was more important as it meant I had to swear to a much greater extent whilst up the ladder trying to match the bloody thing.

This here feature wall also had more light fittings and plugs on than a control desk at Cape Canaveral. The intricate snipping, cutting and manipulating of patterned bloody wallpaper led to more sweating, a load of swearing and the usual search for one of the cats to give it a good kick up the arse.

I couldn’t find it, but there’s a cat shaped air bubble under one piece of wallpaper.

Having taken Friday off to attack these tasks, they have stretched into the weekend, with some bathroom painting today hopefully finishing things off.

Next week we have a joiner and an electrician coming to resolve long-standing stuff in the house, so soon we may have somewhere you could class as habitable.

Speaking of the reason for the need of all this making good, our holidays, I have made very poor progress this week with the trip report. By the time I have returned from work each evening I have been crushed into a depressed husk by the commute home or football has been on. I got a solitary day done! Day Ten, consisting of the Animal Kingdom and Donut Burgers was done today.

It took some writing, but I actually enjoyed remembering the day. That’s the whole point I suppose.

A Preview Piccy from Day Ten
A Preview Piccy from Day Ten

The work commute has been spectacularly shite this week thanks to the Tories being gracious enough to visit the frozen North for their annual piss up. With most of the centre closed to stop folks murdering them for crimes against side partings, my route home took the brunt of the diversion and it took forever.

The Tories arrive in The North

So here we are again butting up against Monday and it feels like I haven’t had time to draw breath.

This means that the plan tonight is to close this laptop very shortly, fire up Netflix, eat some crap, and watch as many Breaking Bads as possible before needing to sleep. Yo, bitches, let’s cook!

Till the next time….

Teethy Traumas, Gorgeous Greeks and Breaking Bad.

I seemed to be trapped in a vicious circle of harrowing dental work, groundhog day’s at work and a lack of lottery wins. I apologise for the upcoming repetition of toothy traumas.

I won’t go into too much detail about my root canal extravaganza on Thursday, except to say that it was horrendous, riddled with problems and broken apparatus, all of which led to me having to go back again this coming Thursday to get it finished.

I got home on Thursday feeling traumatised, battered, bruised with a feeling that I might just cry.

I am not the best with dentists I must admit. I blame my early experiences with a less than sympathetic dentist in my youth, which seems to have grown worse in my mind with each passing year. My current dentist is fine to be honest, but the mental scars are there, and I am a great big coward when it comes to strangers putting things in my mouth. If you know what I mean?

The rest of the week has been fairly quiet to be honest. On Friday afternoon I was taken out for lunch by work. They do a quarterly birthday lunch, taking out everyone who has celebrated a birthday in that period, which is just one example of why the company I work for is pretty damn good.

We went to a Greek restaurant in Manchester, and I went all left field and ordered Taramasalta and Moussaka. I like to push the boundaries. With that treat in mind I ventured to work on public transport on Friday morning. This wasn’t so that I could drink, but moreso that I didn’t want to take my car into the the city centre and try to find a parking spot that would cost less than my car.

Get me to the Greek

Again, I am lucky that our office has secure free parking for staff, but if you venture into the actual centre of Manchester, car parking can cost you your first born child and a couple of internal organs.

It was a sobering lesson, and a reminder of why I am resigned to the car commute for the forseeable.

As we live within walking distance of the local train station, I wandered down at about 7.40 for the 7.50 train into Manchester. I only needed smelling salts and mild cardiac manipulation once I’d been asked to pay £8 to get to Manchester and back.

It doesn’t take a genius to multiply that by five days a week to know how unworkable that is. Having fought my way onto the train, and even having found a seat, about half an hour later I disembarked at Manchester Victoria. My office is less than conveniently placed for this journey, being on the outskirts of Manchester….the complete opposite outskirt from Victoria. So I set off for a thirty five minute walk, in the thankfully dry weather.

Having left the house at 7.40, I eventually graced my desk at 9.10, complete with an impressive film of sweat across my balding pate.

Safe to say, I shall be back in the car tomorrow, and no matter how soul destroying the gradual crawl into work is (and believe me it is soul destroying) it is infinitely better than the option on the tracks.

The reason I could not consider drinking myself into oblivion at the company’s expense was that I was picking Emily and her friend up from the MEN, sorry, the Phones 4 U Arena in Manchester. They were off to watch Paramore, and had a great time. Her social media output has been pretty much all Paramore since so if you like them seek her out.

Paramore
Paramore

Louise and I are now completely engrossed in and addicted to Breaking Bad, and have almost completed the first two series now. We haven’t watched any live telly all week to be honest, and I fear we may not again until we’ve made our way through the remaining 45 episodes that appear to be on Netflix.

I am hopeful (but not very) that Louise will forget all about Downton Abbey’s return this evening. I don’t know what it is, maybe another repressed childhood experience, but I associate these Sunday evening costume drama things with everything that is bad about the end of the weekend and the looming horror of the new working week.

Sat in my pajamas, fresh from the bath, squeezing every last minute from the weekend, and hoping that my Mum and Dad wouldn’t notice that I was still up. I would even sit through the South Bank Show if it meant I didn’t have to go to bed and admit the weekend was done. Why I was in my parent’s house in my pajamas last Sunday I don’t know.

Amidst all of the week’s events, and despite my Breaking Bad addiction, I have managed to make some progress with the trip report. I am currently working on day five. I consider this healthy progress, and at this rate it shouldn’t be as long as I thought it would be before it can be unleashed. Prepare to be underwhelmed.

I can tell you that if you enjoy the usual smut ridden old clap trap, you won’t be disappointed!

Right, time to get back to it.

Till the next time……