Yesterday afternoon I got a call from Jack. It wasn’t god news at all.
Basically, his brother is having a bit of a time of it in Sweden; detail isn’t necessary but the long and the short of its simple, bike trip in crisis.
This came as somewhat of a blow, since deciding I was going to do this thing, as explained in last weeks Piqued, my head has been full of it (that’s ‘it’ dear reader) and whilst the trip’s not cancelled, it’s not fixed either. Jack and I discussed alternative dates, most likely 20th to 30th of September but until I’ve actually ordered the flights, there will be no more conjecture on this topic either in my head or on the page.
Before he goes to Sweden Jack is flying into London this week, we can discuss it in more detail then. I’ll probably post the news. If I feel like it.
Following the disappointing news, yesterday was a bit of a dirge, on leaving the office I discovered my bicycle had a flat tyre, great, luckily I got a lift most of the way home with a mate and before returning to my flat pitted at the cycle shop to get a new inner tube.
I met Frank in the pub for a couple, I offloaded my motorcycle emptiness into his lap and returned home before 8.30 to shower and eat. Feeling rather keen to focus my attentions on anything un-bike related I decided to watch films, starting with a rented copy of The Night Whisperer which had some highlights but was essentially cack. I followed this up with Wrong Turn, a wrong move in itself as it was set in one of the fucking states I was looking forward to visiting, ‘you still will’ I told myself. Terrible film but with some nice touches. By now it was getting late, after midnight, but I wasn’t done. Anyway I was recovering from some trauma earlier in the evening
Earlier in the evening I’d heard a noise in the lounge, a mousy noise. The noise seemed to be coming from behind the TV but there was no evidence of disturbance or mice related activity. An hour after the first incident of sound, it happened again, this time louder and more definite. Now I was starting to get the fear, regular readers will know I’m no fan of rodents and had defaulted to being on tenterhooks. At about 11.30 the sound came again, this time it was fucking loud, to loud for a mouse, a rat even.
Logic prevailed but it was very obscure. I have a spot light behind the TV suspended over a mirror, it’s a simple light effect device, looks rather good when you consider the TV is mounted on glass bricks… Anyway, the heat from the light has gradually taken its toll on the mirror glass; the sound was small parts of it cracking and shattering. Phew.
So relieved was I that before watching The Ordeal, a fucking brilliant Belgium film, I had a wee scotch. In the kitchen noticed that Cunt had left the light on in the garden again. This infuriated me, he regularly leaves fucking lights on when he’s not in, TV’s too (not radios he’s way too fucking stupid for them) and it’s not as if the parasite contributes to the world in any capacity, in fact he’s the antithesis of it, he does nothing but take and shits misery into the void.
We don’t need Richard Dawkins to tell us god doesn’t exist, simply present Cunt to The Royal Society. Such a creature would have never been allowed to live (nor beget life) if there was an intelligent being responsible for the universe.