April 2015

I thought I was getting depressed early this week, but happily it turned out to be a cold. 

Tonight has involved at least 8 double whisky’s, and more besides, but I am fairly confident I have not posted and angry e-mail, or even a post on a messageboard.

I feel like I am on the edge of he-cups (the snot laden arguments about the spelling of this word shows why the English cannot make money from their own inventions). So I think angry stuff bout spellling? Hycups means I am too drunk, so when I am doing done writing this I is going to bed, It is 02.05.

I had many good conversations today, but the one with most good may have been with T about his lad, who may, or may not, be autistic.

If our species had not had ginger haired male ancestors obsessing about how to make the perfect sharp rock sharper, homo sapians would not have proper flucked up this world, some other species would be doing their best! Autism made us successful, all hail obsession with the detail that might still save us.

Such a good day. I could have stayed in Crawley for an other fortnight, sorting stuff out, and been hundreds of pounds better off, but I do not live in Crawley. I live in Bradford: I have done for 36 years: I have supported Bradford City for over 30 years; and when I am mumbling through my dribble in a few decades time, this weekend is likely to be closer to my, made cretinous by age, conscious mind than any lost income.

When I left the Crawley house early yesterday (Friday) I was arguing with myself about coming back to Bradford, as in talking it out. I am glad my sentiment won over economic man. I was emotional. 

It was only 10 or 15 minutes to get to the Victoria, North bound, platform, as opposed to the normal three minutes. 

Have to say that the Victoria  Line was brilliant, and the bloke in charge of the platform, doing announcements with a walkie-talkie, was mustard! 

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