Today I was given a half bottle of rum. A colleague who had spent Christmas in St Lucia gave it to me. I looked so admiringly at this bottle of rum. I had fallen in love and couldn't wait to taste it, perhaps with some Cola. So I put it in my ruck sack with gym kit. Today was my first day back at the gym. First day in about four months. I took it easy and made sure I was out of breath a couple of times. On the tread mill my lungs hurt and I was staggering between running and walking and jogging. The fat man way. I then pushed some weights, but didn't over do those either on account of hearing when you get older and over strain yourself it can end up in a hernia. Better to take it easy and always make sure you breath. After an hour in the gym I went to my locker, pulled out my ruck sack and it dropped to the floor. I heard a glass thud and was immediately concerned. Too late. By the time I had got into the changing rooms my shirt had got soaked. The bottom of my ruck sack was soaked and there was nothing else I could do. Just lament and hope not too many people thought I was an alcoholic. I threw the bottle in a bin. Fortunately my trousers were OK. Unfortunately my trousers are getting pretty tight and had they got soaked it wouldn't of bothered me to buy a new pair. The only problem was getting back home and smelling of rum. This bottle had managed to survive a trip across the Atlantic Ocean. It had been carefully stowed away, thoughtfully given to me and me being a bloody plonker had broken it after only going a couple of hundred yards across the road. Someone kick me. Kick me so hard I cry, kick me so it is permanently imprinted on my arse. I hate glass bottles.
It isn't like this was the first time this has happened to me. When up in Scotland I sometimes walk from Sparkling's house to the local large supermarket which will not be named. There I buy some goods and I do try to do at least one tasty meal for Sparkling, I enjoy cooking. I enjoy having a glass of wine when cooking. I enjoy looking for cooking videos on YouTube and then saying I am going to make the dish. Well, on a walk back from the large supermarket I was carrying two bottles of rose wine for Sparkles. One was medium in price the other a cheaper one. The shop had given me plastic bags which I naively used. Once in a while while walking back I would stop to rest my hands as the bags cut into my fingers. Then on one occasion a bag half split on me. It hit the ground only a few inches below where it was held and a bottle of wine cracked. It was the more expensive one as well. So now I come to the conclusion it is either glass bottles which are made to be broken, or the bags which carry glass bottles are not sufficiently protective. There is only one solution. The next bottle I buy will be wrapped up in bubble wrap. I'll then carry fluffy towel and wrap it again, just to be sure nothing happens. Feeding the drains is not in my view the best way to enjoy a good alcoholic drink.
On a lighter note. Sparkling is still unable to talk and has now been to see her GP for some antibiotics. I'm told she now communicates with Rock Chick by pointing at things and writing notes on paper. Even Rock Chick is unhappy with the situation. It's odd. when someone's voice goes and they use their voice all the time it gets frustrating. I haven't spoken to Sparkles for ages now. I'm getting withdrawal effects. Text messaging just isn't the same. Rock Chick can't wait for it to return as well. I'm sure she'll find out, it will be followed by the words "tidy you room."
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