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[26 May 2008|04:32pm] |
Funny old day. I don't like Bank Holidays. One, everybody's off work except for us at the Bell. Two, all the sodding kids are off school, clogging up the place with their screaming faces and shouting.
It wasn't that bad. Hilariously, a small boy was hanging around the kitchen. He kept running along the car park wall, and peering in at me, as I cleared up, clearly fascinated by the knockabout world of washing up. His tiny bewildered face reminded me of me when I was young, that wild eyed innocent glee a small boy derived from the world. It goes, but it never quite goes. I was playing Final Fantasy music. I actually thought that this would be a good influence on this kid for five minutes, before life beats him over the head with endless Pop Idol contestants and a thousand garage tunes rot his tiny brain.
But yes, he reminded me of me. It was like my young self peeking into the future. I felt like saying to him...
"It doesn't get any better than this, mate. You'll have about twenty years of utter mediocrity, until about 2005 when a lady likes you and let's you touch her and that. Apart from that it's boredom all the way. And don't even ask what happens with the boiling hot coffee in about 1990.
Look reality in the face and shit it!"
Ho ho.
Funny life i've had so far. I hope it's more exciting than this soon. Up to me, really. If I want another lady to like me, i'll have to fucking find one now, won't I?
Nobody knows what's going to happen. I just would like a peek into my future, that's all.
In 1990, for the record, i'd been to the boot sale with my parents. Boot sales are places to buy second hand things from the other proles that populate Kent. They sell shit, you buy it. My only real happiness when younger was Spectrum games. They curbed my unspoken depression, that curled it's dark hands around my young heart. I never realised until older that I was rather quiet and incommunicative as a child, and now I know why. I was depressed, constantly. Nowadays, being all grown up, I can deal with it a lot more. But I used to be a very moody boy. I'd try to gain affection and attention from my parents. It was silly. I'd do things to try and get it, often acting very badly, causing trouble.
Every child nees affection, I suppose.
I digress. The boot sale story is irrelevant. I only write it because I always remember small details of days something big happens. That's why I know that Patrick Moore had a picture of a small cat on his fuckin' wall during "The Sky at night", when I lost my bloody virginity. Goddamned Patrick Moore. Do you know, my dad got a letter from him once? It was typed on a small piece of card, and clearly the typeface was sloping downwards.
Anyway, on that day of the boot sale, when we got home, Bolb was in playacting mood. She wanted to pretend to run a bloody cafe in the kitchen. How sweet, we thought. Well, I didn't. I was her brother...I probably thought something like "Stoooopid sister, what a stoopid idea", or something, like teenage boys do. I think.
We humoured Bolb, and she served me a goddamned coffee on a plastic plate. The problem was, the coffee was boiling hot, and the plate was of a plastic that had zilcho grip. The bloody mug slid off the plate and dispensed it's lava-hot contents all over my fucking stomach.
I think I screamed for about an hour. I couldn't even hear myself after a while. All I remember was the pain, and the water being chucked at my melting belly. Fucking hell, my first ever emergency, I thought, while I burned. Well, you do, don't you? First trip to hospital! Off I went, in a blaring ambulance, straight past Circle K, where Dawn was working and wondering who was in the ambulance rushing past. That would be your brother, Dawn.
As I writhed on the hospital bed and groaned with pain, a kindly old matron told me to stop squirming and to stop moaning. Sorry, matron. I'm only in fucking agony here. I'll just like still for you, shall I? Would you like me to get up and do a little dance as well? Fuckin' bitch. I was dressed in cooling bandages and sent home, where I played my Spectrum games and tried to sleep as my belly stung away like a wasp orgy.
Funny old times.
Sorry about this slipshod and rubbish nonsense, I just think writing without thinking might be good. Some anectodal bollocks, if you like.
As part of Retro Gawp 2008, here's a picture of me laughing at an egg, on a day when Bolb mocked my omellette making skills.
Now fuck off.
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