Which side of me will win?

The cat came back

I remember this morning being a particularly sweary one. I’m not a good sleeper and not a good waker-upper either, so I need not one, not two, but three separate devices with alarms to get me out of bed in the morning. The downside of this is that they keep going off even after I am up and out of bed, so I have to keep returning to my bedroom to swear them into silence. I distinctly remember telling my phone to fuck off this morning. It’s a proper little mouthy cunt, I tell you.

The cat came back. That should really be one of the cats came back, as there are two. This time last year, and throughout last summer, I enjoyed regular visits from two of my feline neighbours. Usually just one at a time. On the one occasion they were both in here at once, things turned a bit nasty. I don’t know which one came in this morning, as it was too dark to see, but I’m guessing it was Battle Cat, the larger of the two. I called them Battle Cat and Cringer because, not seeing them in the same place at the same time for so long, I suspected they were the same cat, with the larger being a super, magic version of the other. Anyway, I look forward to further visits, although I hope there’s no more fighting. And I hope Cringer has learned his lesson after the time he refused to leave when I went to work, then pissed his little cat-pants during the 9 hours he was locked in the flat.

I walked to work, surrendering to cravings for yoghurt banana and Irn Bru on the way once again. Work is going to be very busy for the next week, thanks to those two posh pricks getting married and that hippy dude getting executed. There’s really no such thing as a bank holiday when you work in publishing. You can’t just not do a couple dozen pages of a magazine just because religion or royalty or whatever said your office had to close for a few days. So you just have to work extra hard and get extra stressed. I wouldn’t mind so much if I got to paid to play computer games all day every day…

I had to leave work early for a hospital appointment again today. Dave asked if I was going to be microwaved – his charming expression for the UV light treatment I was getting at the end of last year (it’s actually more like being grilled) – and I responded that no, I wasn’t. It would be more like being marinaded. He asked if that meant I was to be wrapped in cling film and left overnight, and the honest truth is that I might have been. I’m sure I saw other patients wrapped in cling film when I spent a few weeks as an in-patient in a dermatology ward when I was 19.

But no cling film for me today. Just cream and tar and gause, which for some reason I have to wash, dry and return. I now have to go back to hospital for treatment as often as I can for I don’t know how long. A few weeks I guess, after which point I continue applying the marinade at home. It’s uncomfortable, messy and time-consuming and I can’t think of a way to make it less boring or more funny. Other than the marinade thing. That’s quite funny. But this is still fucking boring for me. And I’m not even all that convinced it’s going to work. The department treating me seems quite inefficient to me, and I get the feeling they’re just making it all up as they go along sometimes.

So I moped on home… as in the past tense of ‘to mope’; I don’t have a moped. I moped on home and washed the marinade off my body but not off my hair. The one in my hair is different. Let’s call it ‘dressing’ to avoid confusion. The dressing is still on now. I’ll probably wash it off a bit later tonight.

I can’t remember what I did next. I went on Facebook for a bit, I think. It was through Facebook that a friend sent me a video from the last performance of the Battle Hymns tour in Spain on Sunday night. The song was Gates Of Valhalla, played in tribute to Scott Columbus, and the video is compelling but painful to watch. The emotions of the band members can be clearly read on their faces, especially Eric Adams, who looks to be crying through most of it, yet still delivers a trademark, God-like vocal performance. These guys really are my heroes. I look to them as examples of strength, defiance and determination, and it affects me deeply to see them so openly vulnerable and hurt. Again though, all I can do is express my sincere condolences to everyone who knew Scott Columbus personally.

I got more bad news while chatting to a different friend on Facebook, but I probably shouldn’t go into that. Suffice to say, I was expecting to meet another of my heroes who, to my knowledge has nothing to do with Manowar, next week and that is now looking like it might not happen. It’s not been a very good day, really. It was nice to get a visit from the cat though.

Then, inevitably, I ate some chilli – the last of this batch, not sure when I’ll have the chance to make more – and watched a bit of John Bishop on iPlayer. He’s a funny man. About as middle-of-the-road as you can get, but still… funny.

Now, I’m going for a piss. Probably in the toilet.


Filed under: Manowar, My boring funny day, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: