I'm not really up to scratch for Chrimbo. It's coming and there's nothing to do except hold on tight, as the roller coaster ride begins. My larynx has returned from it's holiday abroad and feels so much better and appreciated. I thanked it. The dosing up of Echinacea has probably helped as well. Although it should be cold out, this morning wasn't as bad for this time of year, but the weather forecast did indicate snow around the country. Well it's not here in London. Not yet anyway. I couldn't have a proper lunch today so just had a pasty out of Greggs the bakers, one of those mass produced Cornish ones. The pastry was a little soggy so as I ate it I wondered if they used lard. A brief concern of furred up arteries entered my mind. I got into the Fish Factory and some bright eyed bushy tailed idiot had Christmas songs playing. I walked in on one of Cliff Richard's and felt like having a puke. I also requested no one put decorations up where I gutted my fish. And can't help but let my bloody mindedness kick in especially the more I understand how religion has played it's part in shaping this country. It's a fact the reason incense began to be burned in churches was not spiritual, but because the church goers stank. It's a fact in my entire life I have never seen a supernatural apparition. It's a fact having a belief is likely to help you live longer. But not if the belief involves jumping off a cliff because the head of you church tells you so. Religions start wars and in Britain there have been many religious wars. Personally I wonder when we are going to begin the Jam doughnut wars. I'm in the wings waiting, I'll be out there, fighting to the last grain of caster sugar. If you're going to have a war make it something worth while. Once said a famous Jam doughnut maker. I agree, completely.
I got accused from Sparkling of going soppy on her after sending her a text. I know I been using those three little words too much. So she's not going to get them out of me anymore, unless I'm drunk. I don't wana be thought of as a scissy. Sod it, I'll act like a real man. I'm going to go down the mines and dig coal for thirty years. Then get lung disease and die because I never had the right breathing apparatus. Unless a cave in gets me, then it will be instant. Thing is there aren't any mines around here and those which are still open are probably all automated. I'll better put my pick axe away then. Or perhaps I could leave it out, just for those recalcitrant nut shells the crackers can't penetrate on Chrimbo day. Oh, yes, because of the EU they now take the shells off. How can a man prove himself anymore? Damn.
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