give it a go

Got to the end of another week - sitting by the sea in the sunshine listening to all the songs i'd forgotten i had on my laptop.
An odd mix of junk and pearls, much like the rest of my existence if i choose to think about it that way; which I won't, since I haven't had a drink yet.

The house is empty right now, except for the puppy; which is new. The puppy I mean, not empty houses.
Quite why that follows is beyond me, but the fact is the dog doesn't like me at all - well, not yet anyway. It likes the girls, but barks it's backside off whenever I enter the house, and is now hiding in the garden.
I'd make more of an effort if I didn't enjoy solitude so much.

I was 5 minutes away from both bombings in London, which I'm constantly told makes me lucky. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I wasn't pulped, but then I feel as though my whole life is spent 5 minutes from where the main event is.
It's funny how writing can make one maudlin, it's certainly a lot cheaper than booze, but somehow less - dunno, less dangerous.

I just finished reading a Nick Hornby book called 'A long way down' - great story, I loved it at the time, but now it's kinda left an odd taste in my mouth. As though I ought to have learned some big lesson from it but missed it. Maybe that's part of the point, maybe I'm just a dimwit.

time to open the wine methinks, and churn the top-loading washing machine that is a 36 year old father of two who wishes sometimes he wasn't living the life he is, and then realises actually he likes it a lot and he's just a soppy idiot.

Why do telco adverts make me cry, when real tragedies never do?