With the Big Stupid Musical Pilgrimage of the year fast approaching, I have suddenly realised I have rather a lot of back-catalogue to listen to. I ain’t going in there only knowing half the songs, dammit, not at this price!* So I was firing through that last night. Yes, I coulda done it sooner, but I was horribly afraid I might discover it was all a load of rubbish, and I was too chicken to have it confirmed. Dammit, not at this price!
*(Trip to Forrin Climes, with layover in Birmingham both ways. Later, they announced a Glasgow date on their tour. Oh gnashing of teeth.)
This morning I finally got round to picking up the CD cover to see what a particular song was called, and I discovered it is a magic CD box – it had laid a twenty. Sweet! Oh alright, the twenty was probably part of the exorbitant of money I had spent at Whisky’s leaving do, and had been sitting there for weeks, unnoticed, but still! Free cash! That’ll do me for the week!
If only I had wondered strongly enough what that song was called last night, I coulda gone out with that. hee.
Other useful things I did yesterday: a wee bit of shredding. My flatmate is firing through her shredding at the mo, and after emptying the boxes, lo, I had some of my own. Wee!
And the damn thing made a load of popping noises, bumped about like there was an angry Gremlin inside, and I turned it off and ran away. Dammit! It woulda died when she, the owner, was using it, but noooo, I had to jump into a slot and now I have, er, paper, on my hands.
So this morning I fessed up and lo, there goes the magic twenty – replacing the shredder. Which is a short-term option, for I will need yet to purchase one of my own. There goes another magic twenty – that hasn’t been laid yet. Go, go magic CD box!
Yeah, probably not realistic.
However, we seem to have fixed the shredder with tweezers (I have so much experience of this from the old work printers). Maybe I can give my flatmate a tenner towards the replacement one instead.
But never mind that for now, for I have to help Cognac move house. Well, it gets me out of my house, and it’s a cheap way to pass the time, right? All I have to do is pack a bunch of bags, get my arse to Gartcosh (a place I had no idea existed, prior to this week) and haul boxes all day! Woo!
In the pouring rain.
Maybe I will not walk all the way to town, maybe I will cheat and take a train there too.
No conductor on train, no charge. Woo!
Wow, it were good to see Cognac. Put it this way; apart from a chance thirty-second run-in in a loud club, I have not set eyes on her since before she was a mother, and her daughter is seven. Cognac is now a gym instructor, wow!
And I got to meet her daughter, who is very precocious, outgoing and adorable, (and, mercifully being looked after by someone else for most of the day, though she did teach me how to make songs on a big orange tube). And the lassie looking after her, and another lassie who came round to help pack, and neither of them had ever met before either. My, this is a brilliant way of meeting new people!
Or, in this case, the lassie who probably treated Flumpy for his ‘debilitating’ bite from a rival cat when I was living in Sowerby Bridge. Jeebus, I was only there for six months, and she was barely there for more than that, and yet, we almost certainly met there. Me and Cognac were just saying what a small world it is when that one got found out. Hee.
It was a good day, and a very productive one – we threw things in boxes, threw em in the car, piled it up the road, upended em on the floor and chucked em in the back for more. I was surprisingly warm and knackered for all what we were moving was not very heavy – possibly, shouldn’t have worn thermals.
But, I think we had a twenty-minute sit-down for crisps, and a coupla fag breaks and apart from that, we were hard at it from one till six p.m. I got a bottle of wine on the way home, figuring I had most certainly earned it, and that and a train fare are all I spent this weekend really! Hurrah! Bloody good thing too, I couldn’t even afford that. Hee, back when I was a student, I swear I lived off more than this. I also fondly (i.e. stupidly, it turns out) looked forward to the lifestyle of the Working Scientist, where I didn’t have to budget so hard and could afford Nice things. Heh. Instead, I’ve had to swear off materialism altogether.
On the subject of which, I have a couple of hours of relaxing evening left, so it is time to strain out the rosehips from what may or may not be (please god, let it be, though it ain’t doing much) three galloons of ultra-inexpensive rosehip wine. Dear god, is that the extent of the remaining sterilising powder? Oh well. Just stick em on and go for a quick shower and-
That’s the phone.
Ooh, it were Cake. And we had a lovely chat for absolute hours, and I got no shower or sterilising done at all. Whoops. Still, it was a companionable evening spent with a good mate, even if she wasn’t physically present, je ne regrette pas rien.
I think I’ve butchered that.
And in conclusion: wasn’t I going to be a Hermit this weekend?