Where is Wickford?
Where is Shenfield?
What do these places mean? What should they mean to me?
There's engineering work on the trainlines so I have to get a replacement bus on my way east to visit the niece, my brother and sister-in-law. Its a warm day, you are my indian summer, maybe the last of the year, the citizens of Wickford and Shenfield are out with their friend nd loved ones, drinking and holding. I am on buses and trains on my own, scribbling.
It didn't have to be this way.
Months ago I bought a new mobile phone, a Sony Ericsson K800i, with the intention of being able to send emails and update my various blogs whilst out and about
Those bastards at CarPhone Warehouse sold me a pudding. Battery life is down to 8 hours now, thats with using it for one phone call and two text messages a week, the memory is too small to surf the web and email is impossible to set up. The wee cover of the camera is badly designed, it keeps sliding open in my pocket and taking photies of my shrapnel. How can something be designed and sold so bad?
Those bastards.
Also my own fault for not taking it back to the shop.
CarPhone Warehouse = bunch of cunts
Sony Ericsson K800i = shittest phone ever
...
A girl sits next to me on the bus, lack of empty seats. She's tall, in her early 20s, blonde hair and kind of stocky. I think I'm in love with her.
Pale skin, small delicate hands, she keeps adjusting her top so it covers the way her tummy bulges over the sides of her jeans.
My mind keeps drifting to wrapping my arms round her, her body soft under my fingers, kissing her neck.
I wonder what she smells like.
Crikey I need a girlfriend.
...
Back to reading this book, The17. Bill, the narrator, has just moved to east London in it.
At exactly the same I was driving to south London from Glasgow.
What went wrong?
Showing posts with label Amelia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Amelia. Show all posts
Sunday, 28 September 2008
Thursday, 22 May 2008
Mouth
Still in agony, woke up twice last night in pain after turning on the wrong side.
Work is okay, but i did get overcome with emotion and had to go and cry in a quiet corner after we managed to get some stuff done on time.
Over on Facebook, Rosie reckons if I change my profile picture I won't remain single for much longer, suggesting first I use a photo of me and my niece, and then an arty black and white one of me playing guitar.
Four hours later and it hasn't had any effect on my singularity, but I do become sad reading facebook.
Over on the nuddy chicks site, after the phenomenal success of my first venture, I'm looking around at work to find a post-it pad to do a quick "YOUR ADVERT HERE $2/week" image of the side column. If you know of anyone who'd want to advertise their wares to around 14,000 people all over the world every week, email me.
Went out last night to meet Rowan and Mark and go on the London Eye, the damned thing closes at 8pm at this time of year so we went to a pub, watched the football and I drank that Fruli's strawberry beer. Its like CAMRA alcopop.
Work is okay, but i did get overcome with emotion and had to go and cry in a quiet corner after we managed to get some stuff done on time.
Over on Facebook, Rosie reckons if I change my profile picture I won't remain single for much longer, suggesting first I use a photo of me and my niece, and then an arty black and white one of me playing guitar.
Four hours later and it hasn't had any effect on my singularity, but I do become sad reading facebook.
Over on the nuddy chicks site, after the phenomenal success of my first venture, I'm looking around at work to find a post-it pad to do a quick "YOUR ADVERT HERE $2/week" image of the side column. If you know of anyone who'd want to advertise their wares to around 14,000 people all over the world every week, email me.
Went out last night to meet Rowan and Mark and go on the London Eye, the damned thing closes at 8pm at this time of year so we went to a pub, watched the football and I drank that Fruli's strawberry beer. Its like CAMRA alcopop.
Sunday, 18 November 2007
Refreshing
Early phonecall from frere yesterday morning lead me to drive over to visit my niece Amelia and famiy on the coast of Essex today. She's grown a wee bit and it a little bit more sentient than last time. Still obsessed with books, or wanting me to read every book she has. And she keeps coming out with new words that her parents hadn't taught her, weird stuff like knowing Spiderman was on this evening, or the rudiments of the game of Snap.
Driving over was a tunnel of channelling, with no radio in my car, my mind jumped on all it could, the whole Romford thing and going past the church where my brother and Lou got married, was it five years ago, all that business with a girl the first time round. Then I have these fuzzy memories of family stuff, doing uncle duties with a girl sat next too me looking beautiful in Manchester.
I realise that no matter how many times I click refresh, a girl doesn't update her blog, and her photos mean nothing and there's no email and no bowlie, and nothing out there. Maybe I'm just greiving not having anything to play mind games with, but would I?
Maybe Tobin had it right, you should bury the corpses in the walls and run away.
Neat the way the media aren't mentioning much about Tobin's conviction for Angelika Kluk's murder or his previous violent attacks on teenage girls, in respect to the current Brookside plotline-like discovery of bodies at his house.
On the way back to Alperton I fell asleep at the wheel, my car collided with some and left huge dent in one of the wheels. Its kind of shook me up a lot.
Maybe she's in a bad way too and would welcome communicae, coffee and kite-flying. How would I know.
Driving over was a tunnel of channelling, with no radio in my car, my mind jumped on all it could, the whole Romford thing and going past the church where my brother and Lou got married, was it five years ago, all that business with a girl the first time round. Then I have these fuzzy memories of family stuff, doing uncle duties with a girl sat next too me looking beautiful in Manchester.
I realise that no matter how many times I click refresh, a girl doesn't update her blog, and her photos mean nothing and there's no email and no bowlie, and nothing out there. Maybe I'm just greiving not having anything to play mind games with, but would I?
Maybe Tobin had it right, you should bury the corpses in the walls and run away.
Neat the way the media aren't mentioning much about Tobin's conviction for Angelika Kluk's murder or his previous violent attacks on teenage girls, in respect to the current Brookside plotline-like discovery of bodies at his house.
On the way back to Alperton I fell asleep at the wheel, my car collided with some and left huge dent in one of the wheels. Its kind of shook me up a lot.
Maybe she's in a bad way too and would welcome communicae, coffee and kite-flying. How would I know.
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