Category Archives: ween

hello, ween

I left my rucksack at home, among other things it has my tabs and glasses in it. The tabs I can cope with (I can borrow off people) but the lack of bins is a serious state of affairs.

I’m short sighted, not so severely that I can’t see anything without glasses, but when it comes to reading, writing, TV, driving, seeing in any detail etc., I need them. Lately I’ve discovered that going without them for long periods causes headaches, despite my eyesight not having significantly deteriorated in a decade or so. I’ve been wearing them since I was 4, actually, I even rediscovered my first ever pair last week. They have round faux-Tortoiseshell frames with huge bendy wires coming off the arms to keep them clamped to my frenetic toddler head. I must have looked as Si j’avais un petit peu du downs.

I biked into work today so I wore my dark (prescription) glasses, which I am wearing now in the office. Sideways glances from colleagues are simply counted by a friendly sort of sneer/fuck off package, though by my own reckoning, I look like a fucking tit.

Had a pleasant night. I cycled back home in the bloody dark, actually, it really was pitch black on the tow path, no one has told the council that the clocks have changed, and I arrived home gasping like the Thames Whale (god rest its Dover Soul). A knackered Myfwt joined me shortly and I made us a requested griddled salmon and steamed veg supper. I injected some joy into mine with a mustard sauce. Of course it was delicious dear reader, yeah, but I was in the mood for something that had once had erection.

Very busy day today so this is brief, but I can’t go without wishing my bro and Swineshead Happy Birthdays. I’ve popped something in the post for you both chaps but when I see you, bro, I’ll sort you with something more substantial. SH, you know what’s coming; this year can you please use some butter or something.