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4.7.01 Owing to the fact that I (hopefully) have various things coming up such as interviews, I thought that today would be a good day to go tie-shopping, as my collection is, well, pitiful. So I did, bought two and came home again. One of them is very, very strange. I cannot work out for the life of me whether it goes with everything or nothing – it’s got sort of purple bits and then also stoney bits on, and, well, what colour shirt does that go with? (I am fully aware that I have just made it out to sound like sartorial vomit – please believe me, it’s not that bad…) 5.7.01 Yes, yes, happy fourth July for yesterday (I still can’t see why our trans-Atlantic cronies can’t elucidate things properly, as well as the many other mistakes they make – aluminium, honour etc – call me an old man, I call it being right) to all Americans yesterday. I have to admit I did forget, which is why instead my wholly diverting thoughts about ties appeared instead. 6.7.01 Just because I’m lovely and fuzzy, I’m devoting my entire entry today to wonderful, fantastic Kath (a.k.a. Random Bitch – more in a mo) because I got a text this morning from her, in which she admitted to being the first person who is addicted to The Mine. Whether I should be proud of this or deeply concerned I’m not sure, but I thought it was quite sweet anyway. Anyway, yes, she is actually called Random Bitch for a reason – I will be happily talking shit about something mindless, and she will tear me to shreds (verbally, not physically – I tend to think that it’s always good to survive meetings with my friends, even though I know she could end me in seconds if she wanted) completely and remorselessly. I actually walk into it deliberately sometimes these days, just because she’s hysterically funny when she does it. So everyone say hi, Kath. We love you... Anyway, here, just for the record, is how I’ve just spent my morning. Building a bookshelf from a flat-pack. (oh yeah, I was lying earlier - lovely as you are, Kath...) 10.30 Haul first 6ft box into bedroom. Only after putting it down and, almost dislocating shoulder and passing out, discover box says in large letters: ‘Caution: weight 34kg.’ 10.40 Manage to actually get box open. Feels like am in crystal maze and only job is to actually get at wood inside. 10.43 Locate instructions. Written in Swedish. Giggle at Swedish way of saying ‘Build a bookcase in 6 easy steps!’ Then realise cannot find English translation. 10.45 Decide to rely on pictures. 10.50 Discover that, among the stuff provided, there are 16 wooden bolts. Now, I haven’t exactly done muchos DIY in the past, but even I know that wooden bolts are about as useful as a glass hammer. 11.00 Wooden bolts in. 11.10 Wooden bolts out. 11.15 Wooden bolts in right places. Decide to phone Max – figure that if I’m being entirely unproductive, no-one else on the planet should be either. 11.30 Max bemused and amused at the thought of me doing DIY. Go back to bookcase with sigh. 11.33 Pictures tell you to attempt the impossible. Wood in diagram has holes in. Mine does not. Get in slight rage, and decide to have much-deserved cup of coffee. 11.40 Come back. Turn wood over to find holes. 11.50 Bottom, middle and top shelves screwed into position. 11.52 Feeling smug & self-satisfied, step back to admire handiwork. Stand on hammer in bare feet. Yelp, swear, hop around and shout at hammer. Brother unfortunately picks this particular moment to come and offer help. Debate whether to try & convince him that really am not dangerous loon. Can’t be arsed. 11.57 Locate English instructions under last shelf. 12.00 All shelves in place. Just was beginning to worry about spare screw when shelf #3 falls down, helpfully showing where I forgot to screw it in. 12.20 Lay bookcase back down to put back on. Picture illustrates small screws going effortlessly in. Instructions useless. Reality is that no holes made – so hammer them in. Congratulate self when back is finally in place and all screws are hammered in well. Give last one an especially good whack to emphasise finished work. 12.22 Stand case up. Back part is on back-to-front. Despairing, remember also that this is the first of 3 cases I have to build. Phone Kath. She dearly wishes she could be there to watch me doing DIY. 12.30 Cannot get last screw out, as banged it in so hard. 12.45 Screws back in, back part right way round, case standing upright. Just now am praying that is not going to fall over, apart or otherwise disintegrate. Remember again that I have 2 other cases to do. Not a good morning. I'm not sure whether I should be worried or not. you see, the epic Heart FM do this thing every morning where they play 9 songs from a different year, and you have to guess the year. Yesterday, they played 9 completely brilliant songs, but I couldn't work out which year they were from. The thing is, I could sing along to every single one. Then I found out that the year was 1994. Is that worrying or something to be proud of? I would suggest the former... 8.7.01 I dearly wish that I could put my mother in the commentary box at Wimbledon. Throughout the Henman-Ivanisevic match, she unceasingly and supportively talked at the screen, and was far more entertaining than anything any of the mindless people doing the real thing: ‘Now, come on Tim, you’ve just got to get this one serve in, there’s a love. Ugh. That horrible Ivanis-ic-Ivan-whatever he’s called just spat. That’s terrible. And that beard. Ooh, look, he got it in! What does that make the score?’ etc. etc. etc. I felt like just putting the TV on mute and watching it with her in the background. Great fun. 9.7.01 Can already tell it’s going to be a bad day. Was walking through town earlier, and noticed that every now and then, I got a look from random shoppers. Not a death stare, just a bemused glance. Anyway, I carried on trawling around the shops, and maybe it was paranoia setting in, but the more I looked, the more I saw people looking at me in a strange way. I ran a hand through my hair to make sure that it had calmed down from it’s normal afro-style-morning-frizz, looked down at my T-shirt in case someone had thrown up on me without my noticing, and found nothing. In the end, I got pissed off, and started to head home. When I got there, I dumped all my stuff, and went to the loo, and looked in the mirror. It was only then I realised my flies were gaping. 10.7.01 For the sceptical and mocking, and those of you who were of the general belief that I can never be arsed to do any work on this site, believe me, it’s coming. I have big plans. Although the actual content will be the same (I know – probably the thing that needs changing most), the look of things round here is going to change drastically (NB don’t panic – can’t be arsed to change the URL,) – starting with the name. Due to this, my links and archive won’t be accessible for a little while. Please bear with me while I update things – I think you’ll find the change will be worth the wait (that bloody gnome at the top will be the first thing to go, that I promise…) Back to archive Back to main page |
