Hi everyone 🙂
(I still haven’t managed to find out how to make a subscribe function, none of the WordPress ones seem to want to work).
Well, today was quite a busy “quiet day”.
I was up at about 09:30, dropped my top and punched myself in the balls when I tried to catch it: “hehe must be an omen, ok so this is what type of day it’s going to be? Ok”.
I hoped it wasn’t setting a precedent for the rest of the day.
For some reason (probably because it was manky) I started to clean the kitchen, it’s been messy and filthy for ages and it’s really – really – started to annoy me.
So off I went, cleaning the sink, the sides of the cupboards, the sides of the oven, the floor and god knows what else.
Milky (decaffeinated) coffee with one sugar “baked in the tandoor to perfection” – well nuked in the microwave for 2 minutes on medium.
I then decided to wash myself, so took myself off to the shower…………do you need me to detail the act of having a shower? 🙂
Just imagine yourself, but it’s me; like that!
Did 5 proper fully extended slow pull-ups, and some yoga like exercises that I don’t know the name for: you stay in the press-up position for 30 seconds, then lift one hand behind you for the count of 2 seconds; then you put your hand back down again and do 1 press-up.
You repeat this on both sides until you die and fall on your face.
I have to be careful actually, I’m only just getting over a shoulder injury that I sustained about a year ago. I got it from not warming up before doing press-ups.
I can literally hurt myself by just getting out of bed, I suppose it’s my age. (But hey! After losing 9kg I’m one sexy grandad. Hehehe I don’t have any kids but I’m old enough to legally have a grand child. It’s really depressing because I can’t remember anything I’ve done, not much – thanks mental breakdown. I don’t know how I got this old without knowing about it).
(My past was shit anyway, I’m happier now than I’ve ever been).
So, showered, exercised (can I say that?) and ready to go shopping.
I went to Newcastle to buy some food shopping, “the weekly shop”.
Firstly I went to Pani’s (my second home), I said hello to Stefano, and kissed Sylvia “hello”.
I sat at “my” usual table (in the corner) – (I’m using a lot of side notes tonight aren’t I?) and Sylvia brought my cafe latte to me, “tesoro!”.
Sorry? “tesoro! It means treasure!”.
Now, I assumed she’d called me “treasure” because it’s a common pleasantry here in Newcastle, but now I’m wondering if she meant the coffee was like treasure?
I thanked her anyway, and thought it was sweet of her to say it.
The coffee was lovely.
I read the paper – well flicked through it and ignored all the stuff that was too depressing or was just advertising.
I giggled at a full-page advert selling fake tan that supposedly gets cellulite off your arse at the same time.
(Maybe I should get some, so I can have a sun-kissed shiny smooth arse, I wonder if you’re meant to put it all over your body, or just on your arse??? It would be the equivalent of a reverse “caravan tan”.
It’s totally unconnected but I also like the term “short-sheeted” haha I’ll explain it at the end of this post)
Anyway, I chortled to myself because I thought “who believes this shit?”, what’s wrong with having a lumpy white backside anyway? 😀 everyone wants to be Photoshopped these days.
“Photoshopped” a proper noun (name of a software package) which has been added to the international lexicon as a verb.
Anyway, I decided to buy a scratch card and I won £10.00! This was excellent because I was so close to going over my overdraft limit that I had to put money in from a credit card; this is really bad but it’s life at the moment.
So the £10.00 bought my shopping.
I popped into Carluccio’s restaurant, and saw my friend Rosa. I bought some pecorino cheese (with chilli).
Unfortunately Rosa cut her finger when she was cutting some cheese off for me, I felt bad about it but I was asking her to be careful.
It was the wrong knife, really.
I went up to Marks and Spencers to buy my mam some “flans” that she likes, I think they’re crap and I wish she’d let me make her some instead, they’d be infinitely better.
On the way back down Northumberland Street I saw a man dressed like “Widow Twanky”, he was about 6ft4 in high heels making him about 6ft 8 haha I said “you’re fucking terrifying!” and he said “thank you!” in a really camp voice.
I was tempted to get my photo taken with him.
I heard some musicians who were playing instruments that I didn’t know, some type of pipe like a Northumbrian pipe or the Scottish bagpipes, but it sounded Moroccan or something; it was beautiful how the notes bent from one to the other. I told him so.
I went to Tescos to buy some demerara sugar and fabric softener (not to go together) then I went across the street to the Grainger Market to buy a chicken.
“Corn fed” my arse, but it was big and cheaper than the ones in Tescos – £3.99.
Champion, I’ll butcher “the bastard” and make some lovely stock from the carcass.
Actually I’m going off that butcher’s shop, I got chicken blood on my hands from the packet and asked: “I’ve got chicken blood on my hand, can I wash it off somewhere?” and this fucking miserable Dracula lookalike gazed past me like I was a piece of shit and gave me a really manky blood stained “white” towel to wipe my hands on.
It looked like a 16th century pantyliner.
Oh Lord have mercy.
So, I thanked Dracula (perfect example of how the British don’t like to complain) and I went to buy my fruit and veg(etables).
I had a “bit craic on” with the woman at the greengrocers, bought an abundance of fruit and veg for next to nothing, and went to “Wilkinsons” (a shop around the corner) to buy some anti-bacterial hand gel, as I didn’t fancy getting salmonella, even though I hear it’s all the rage.
I saw a girl with “the butt of life” and was suddenly aware of how long I’d been single for. Too long.
My bag——-ahem I mean bags (hehehe) were feeling heavier and heavier, the plastic handles were slowly but surely turning into cheese wires and trying to cut my hands off (as I had the bags on my wrists for some reason).
Typically the queue was massive and someone had to have an item that wasn’t priced, so I’m standing there with pink and slowly amputating white hands, as some anxiety ridden woman who doesn’t understand the concept of queueing is standing closer and closer to me, then fucking beside me!! As though this behaviour will make the queue go down any quicker.
I thought to myself: “OK Craig, you have two options: you can turn around and head-butt the old woman and yell !!! PERSONAL SPACE NIGGA!! PERSONAL SPACE!!!” or, you can go upstairs; use the till up there and avoid a lengthy prison sentence with a large man who likes bespectacled slight men like you”.
So I went upstairs, I just wish I could have farted before I left, but the monkey’s head was showing.
Behold, the butt of life turned up, she had a very posh voice.
So anyway, I paid for my things after some Chinese people spent an eternity trying to decide what a potato peeler was…………..I swear to God, my patience was like my hair – getting thinner and thinner.
I paid, took my bags outside, put Dracula’s leaky chicken in a bin liner that I bought from Wilkinson’s, said hello to a little toddler that toddled by, and set off to the Grainger market again, on-route to the bus stop.
I stopped by the fishmongers, I saw that you could buy crab’s legs for about 75p (a Lb) and I thought oooh that’s a good idea/cheap form of tasty protein.
(I’m always looking out for cheap ways to eat well).
I had a quick conversation with the fishmonger then went to the bus stop; luckily my bus was there and I caught it. I had visions of it leaving just as I approached it (which would be typical).
I excitedly got home, and wondered if my Xbox had arrived in the post, but no – to no avail.
I tried the pecorino chilli cheese and it was delicious.
So, that was pretty much my day: it was quite busy considering I “wasn’t going to do very much”.
- find out = discover
- I was up at about 09:30 = I got out of bed
- balls = testicles
- setting a precedent = everything that follows it will be the same
- manky = very dirty
- tandoor = Indian clay oven (I’m copying what Indian menus always say – joking)
- nuked = hit with a nuclear bomb / heated to very high temperatures
- took myself off = went to
- getting over = recovering
- I sustained = I got
- warming up = stretching before exercise (in this context)
- flicked through it (the newspaper) = look at the pages quickly
- fake tan = a (sugar based) chemical that gives a person the look of a sun tan
- arse = bottom / behind / posterior
- caravan tan = after wearing a t-shirt in the sun, dark arms and light body
- short-sheeted = a trick to play on someone where you fold the bedsheet in half so they can’t get into bed
- Photoshop = photographic editing software
- scratch card = costs roughly £1.00 and you scratch off the surface to see if you win money
- going over (my overdraft limit) = exceeding
- popped into = a quick visit
- back down Northumberland St = returning to where I came from, earlier
- Widow Twanky = a fictional character in pantomime, usually a man dressed as a woman
- high heels = women’s shoes with a high heel
- craic on / craic = good fun, exciting news, playful behaviour
- all the rage = a very popular trend
- the butt of life = big bottom, taken from a Spike Lee film (School Daze, I think)
- my bag = my scrotum
- nigga = hip hop term for person, derived from the insult: nigger
- the monkey’s head was showing = I needed to deficate (also the turtle’s head, or “I was touching cloth”)
- toddled by = a child passed me
- on-route = French for “on the way to”.
- I caught the bus = the opposite of missing the bus – I was able to get on the bus before it left
pretty much = an Americanism that I actually use, it means “approximately” ie: “so Craig do you earn enough money from English lessons to eat?” – “Pretty much, but that’s all”.