Ah, the meaningless international weekend. An opportunity to get those jobs done you've been putting off all summer, 'cos it was too hot. I haven't been either. It looked like rain. It actually did rain yesterday.
Instead I went for a walk. i say 'a walk'; it was actually a hike. My legs are stiffer than Ron Jeremy's cock today. My lower back whinges like the ex-missus, at the same inappropriate times; just as I'm enjoying one off the wrist in bed, or when i'm lowering my bum to the chair to watch a bit of the test. My feet look like a World War 1 battlefield, the craters of popped blisters and the trenches of mottled skin.
I'm definitely getting fitter though. The inclines and the slopes and the gentle hills around Shotley were eaten up with no panting or dripping brow. The idyll of the reward, a pint or three in the Shipwreck before catching the ferry to Harwich and getting a bus home, well, it titivated the damp countryside and filled the heart with joy, so the stroll to the church at the top of the hill to see some German graves (WW1) was done like Julie Andrews, minus song and wimple. And dress, come to think of it.
The four pints of Ghost Ship and two of Nelson's Revenge quenched the thirst and made the walk to the ferry jetty interesting. I didn't half need a wee on the ferry. Sadly, the presence of three dutch women, all looking like Frances de la Tour from Rising Damp, put paid to a quick slash over the side. They'd have tutted and gone home saying how crude and disgusting the English are. It might have affected Brexit adversely.
I went in Harwich instead, which was nice 'cos it gave me an excuse for another pint in the Alma. Then it was 4pm and I thought "stuff it, I'll get a cab" and ended up getting w*nkered and having a Thai in the nice restaurant on the green, barely remembering what I ate, washing it down with wine. The taxi driver was Turkish and didn't drink. He was also monosyllabic when he realised I'd partaken. He looked pained, and charged me twelve quid so I gave him £15 cos I needed a wee again. He drove off, presumably shaking his head, off to jabber to the wife how drunk the middle-aged English were. I went for my wee on a near neighbour's drive, drunkenly shushing the streaming jet as it spattered on the concrete, nearly falling face first in it while doing me zip up. No one saw me. Unless one of 'em's got CCTV on the sly, in which case I'll be in next week's Harwich and Manningtree Gazette.
My head and guts were a bit fragile this morning. Tel wasn't sympathetic. "Could'a' come wiv'ya" he said, accusatory. His night was a blank; the wife wasn't needed by his brother-in-law as he's now moved back home, so they stayed in and watched the X Factor and the 'secon'arf 'er the England game'. "An' that was bleedin' dross" said Tel, bitterly, our bet failing 'cos he thought we'd do the Spanish. He'd run out of San Miguel and had to drink the eight cans of Heineken his brother-in-law bought him as a thank you for the support during his matrial issues. He made a face like a bulldog licking piss off a razorblade. "Dutch rubbish that beer. Made me fart all night. The missus complained. Mind, she did get a bit of a dutch oven when she went lookin' fer the telly remote".
So that was that. He's meeting me for a drink on Tuesday night as he wants me to come over on Saturday and help him shift a bed from their spare room. He's ordered a new one from John Lewis and it comes on Saturday afternoon. We're having a barbecue after, weather permitting. I'm doing it. He wants steak and indian pork chops. His assistant Mickey is in charge of the shop on her own on Tuesday and Thursday as he and Mrs Tel are off to London to see their niece on Tuesday and then off to Norwich to do some clothes shopping ready for the holiday in Spain at the end of the month. I didn't ask how much of the money from the house sale they've got left. He told me anyway. "Free Hundred and firty-four grand" he said, proudly. "We aint been spendin' it".
I'd better go. I think I need the loo again. I did hope gin might help the recovery process. It hasn't, though. See you for Hull. |  |
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