waking up,a life filled with dread,the wife looks fucked. boiled eggs for pack-up.mumble'mutter,mumble'mutter,grub-time.

with a basin full of porridge

i really do need to get to aldi's sometime,
but i just can't be bothered.

i shall probably make do with asda's cheapo gut-rot,
and mince pies.

i shall need some drink for the two worst days of........................


christmas.

and coffee,
lots of coffee.

i SHALL have to get my arse into gear,
eventually.
and face another week,
of,,,,,,,,,,,,
who know's what?

i don't like to think about it too much.

well,
i suppose the sports writers were buzzing yesterday.

wonder what THE...BIG STORY will be.

i'm out of beetroot,
but can't go to my local tesco express,
because of that dragon-woman self-service buzzard.

more coffee jeeves............
........................................
..............................................
.................................................

better.

y'know?
i used to bang on about the bundesliga,
for goals,
but i just can't get into it nowadays.
maybe years of the betting roller-coaster ride is taking it's toll.

and maybe it really IS,
pie in the sky.

struggling with motivation right now.

i need a break,
a complete break.
ho'hum.

i shall drink my coffee,
and then i'd better get moving i suppose.

put heating on,
have a shave,
and a shower.
get some grub cooking.
change our bed.
put washing-machine on.

edit this shit a few more times.

and then,
the treadmill.
------------------------------------------------

showered and shaved.
zombie-time over.
tap'tap'tap on the keys ,
goes lardthing.

maybe he's not really my son;

maybe he's an imposter,
an alien,
posessed,
a clone,
ha'ha'ha,clown even.
sorry.
an android,
or even one of those "spybot" thingies.

an off-button behind his ear,
or on the back of his neck,
hidden by his long hair.

nah,
wtf could HE tell anybody?
unless it involved a virtual-reality experience.

whatever.
----------------------------------------------
just took some rubbish out,
and i dread what i might see.
i walk home in the morning,
and i dread what might be waiting for me.
i get mail,
junk mostly,
but dread opening it.
will it contain something bad?



----------------------------------------------
wife just came in from work,
looking exhausted.
the hours that she works,
it's too much.
it's just as well that i don't want sex.
i DO wonder how long she can keep going.
mind you,
i wonder about myself,
in that respect.
-----------------------------------------------
and it's boiled eggs for pack-up.
------------------------------------------------

went downstairs a few minutes ago,
lardthing has moved.
now in the kitchen with mummy.
much mumbling going on,
in very low tones.
it's like they've developed their very own method of communcation.
i wouldn't call it a language as such.
just always totally in-audible to any-one more than a metre away.
delberate?
maybe.
whatever.
-------------------------------------------------
just waiting for them to vacate the kitchen,
then grubtime.

and work.

that's the last of saturdays left-overs.
time to log-out,
switch off,
and lie down.

see'yer.

life eh?