Category Archives: jona louis


Trying to think of anything that was good about yesterday. No, it was all bad, pretty much from the moment I woke up to the time I finally went off to sleep.

Work was its usual mundane self, saved momentarily by doing P in the morning, the afternoon rattled past punctuated with abundant quantities of coffee and cigarettes. The only thing I was looking forward to doing in the evening was seeing Myfwt, making some supper and watching Masterchef. Oddly, being resigned to the fact that I wasn’t drinking, indeed, it wasn’t even an option, even the usual watered down gloom that arrives with abstinence was sitting grumpily outside of the cortex.

There was one other thing I had to do. I had to write a piece before Wednesday and it was something I wasn’t able to do at work. I’m amazed I can write P at work frankly because I’m used to silence when I write, P is done on a needs/must basis so I’ve no option, anything else outside of the occasional piece for friends is easier done at home. I began my task in earnest when I arrived back, later than usual. Coincidentally Myfwt wasn’t feeling too good and had decided to come straight back instead of popping by the gym. So engrossed in the whole article I failed to take full heed of ‘not feeling well’. When will I ever learn?

Before she arrived I’d been pondering the article. Pondering is done either with a cigarette or by wandering to the kitchen and wandering back (a ‘wander-ponder’ if you will) with a cup of tea or, in this case, Teriyaki peanuts, which are more more-ish than they have any right to be. I ate over half a packet completely by accident.

About 15 mins before the article was complete Myfwt arrived home looking a little fragile. My mind still scribbling away I ushered her in, she had a couple of peanuts and I finished off the bag and the article at almost the same moment. Right, time to cook… Christ. I then realised that I was feeling utterly sick. I’d gorged myself on so many peanuts I forgotten myself. I announced my self induced malaise to Myfwt who was looking all wane and pail and lovely and refused to cook her the dinner I’d offered to make, indeed, been banging on about all day. This didn’t go down well. Evening ruined.

For the last few weeks I’ve been trying to find out how much I owe the fucking cunts that are the Halifax. I took a loan out a few years back and I’ve been paying it back monthly. Yesterday morning I called them with my account details, what have you. After being asked a series of baffling questions I was informed I’d ‘failed security’ and they fucking hung up on me. Of course, I called them back, the same procedure started, I failed security again (the questions went from, ‘what day do you pay us back a month’ and ‘how much do us pay us back annually’ to ‘what was the colour of the APR on the 3rd March 2003 and how many Howard’s does it take to change a (energy efficient) light bulb’). The last time I called them back (the time after they’d hung up on me again for swearing) they told me just to go into a branch with my passport and they’d tell me directly. Fucking cunts the lot of them.

Oh, Curb Your Enthusiasm was actually shit last night, the worse one I’ve seen, and I couldn’t sleep after.

Masterchef was shit too.