Pliny the youger

Though my shocked soul recoils, my tongue shall tell...

We had her brother and his missus over on Saturday; we’re thinking, get them into a pub, away from the house, saves us having to listen to his droning on and on about his latest holiday to Switzerland and being unable to shift him out of the house, instead we had to sit and listen to it all anyway, in a pub garden, for 3 hours and Jesus if he told us about his hotel or this footbridge or that local delicacy once, he must have told us a dozen times, I kid you not. And to top it all off, falling asleep on him, we croaked, best we get the kids back home now, he said, coffee! Great, I could do with a coffee, my throats parched, for some reason…Uh-Huh we thought, but also, I'd managed to sink 3 pints to his 2 and her small glass of liebfraumilch, so thirsty yes, I imagine they were...not me though
So, another 2 hours, not exactly, slid by while he produced a CD of photos, of his Swiss holiday he wanted us to sit though. The previous 3 hours then, coming to life for us, in pictures on my computer screen.
Why did we have to go through all of that? Well, it’s the missus birthday tomorrow, so on that pretext, he came over to “drop off” her present, which was like, a card with some vouchers in it, hello! Royal mail, first class post was still working last time I checked. Christ.
That morning, I took the smasher to the annual chalk drawing on paving stones event in town, well, the local cinema closed down a while back, so the locals have made do. Needless to say the smasher’s drawing, this years theme was the Circus, didn’t come anywhere in the prize giving. The girl who won overall best drawing, apparently, won it last year as well and it’s easy to see how with her bastard father coaching her all the way through. Encouraged, I gave my smasher the benefit of my years at St Martins college, telling him to just express himself in any way he damn well saw fit, art, I remember saying to his up-turned face, was in the eye of the beholder, like beauty only more so but the old biddies judging the competition were blind to his genius. Still, he got a lolly for taking part, or he would have, if I hadn’t insisted he saved it till after lunch, then forgot to give it to him, so had it myself.
Judge for yourself. Above.

It's a circus tent see, with a man, no a clown, eating fire!...no...wait...juggling! ah bollocks, D- 

Sleep like dreaming

I was reading the other day about this Amazon tribe who believed their waking hours were their unconscious lives and when they were asleep, they were experiencing their real conscious lives! Madness! But it got me thinking about my life, if I were to flip it, my awake life then, my so-called unconscious life could be seen as dull, monotonous, boring; it’s also stressful, scary and ultimately pointless. When I am in my unconscious state, life eats away at me, incrementally, chipping away at me until there’s nothing left.
And when flipped, when I’m really asleep and experiencing my “real” life, no one has died on me, or left me; I have no ex-girlfriends and my mother and best mate are still alive because I see them in my dreams every night. I experience no stress, life doesn’t have a point but it isn’t pointless because I’m not conditioned in sleep to worry about it. Of course I’d still have to experience turning up at exams, having not revised…in my underwear but I reckon it’s a risk worth taking.
Things aren’t going well, work’s a pain, eight months in and I’m still battling away for the software I need to do my job; my boss is an intimidating bully and people around me are either stressed out, resigning, taking sickies or having strokes. I wanna go to sleep and live my life.

Bring on the clowns! a-haha...a-hahaha. sniff. Yeah, well, life goes on even when there's a world cup to bloody loose. This was Ware's carnival and the smashers had to dress up for the parade; dunno why the missus dressed up mind, she wasn't even in it