asda madness,surving the meastrom,i'm glad i'm old.

it started off so well;
toilet closed for cleaning,
then pound jammed in the shopping-trolley.
here we go.

george jumble-sale just inside the entrance.
all for £4 or less.

moving swiflty on.
or as swiftly as one can in such places.

braving the storm.
whinging whining,
pushing shoving,
lurid onesies,
washed out mums.

wizened old biddy,
clutching her bells,malt.
good for you.

wobbly thighs,
tatty tights.
tattooed tits,
it isn't pretty.

cheap quiches,
a pounda piece,
that'll do.

zipped through the checkout,
amazingly.
not complaining.
bog now open,
queue relieved.
quick dribble,
two shakes.
and out.

YES!
home james.
and don't spare the horses.

put trolley back.
an absolute disaster area.
trolleys.
litter.
i have a thing about litter,
courtesy,
good manners,
and well,
all things decent really.
bugger being old.


armageddon;
okay!
so i'm over-stating,
ever so slightly.

hoodies,
staffies,
a mastif even,
it's all the same t' me.
adolescent bitches.
"ee'ah!..oi!...she said she want's to shag you".
lovely girl.
it's tempting to label her a filthy slut,
but it's all bollux isn't it?
ISN'T IT?
i'm glad i'm old.
i was never at the races in MY day.
BUT now,
in this...
time,
who knows how things might have gone.
again,
not pretty i think.

wife's home.
coffee-time,
and my spuds need turning.
---------------------
where DOES the time go?
i went turn my spuds.

i've fried 2 eggs for pack-up.
made a coffee.
done my toasting.
very nearly carbonised ONE lot.

a mountain of washing-up.
not complaining.
most of it's mine.
done.
they've all gone out.
and i'm home alone.

that means a trip to the vet.
if thing has gone with her.
oh how that poor boy suffers.
has she no compassion?


they're back already.

whatever.

i thought i'd put this in the toilet thread.

would the last one to leave pull the chain please?

thank you kindly.

and wash your hands.

that is all.

ciao!

nobster.

Classic post eric