I’ve come back to work after an entire week off, so my recent lack of blogging cannot be excused by a lack of things to write about. In fact, for the first time in my life, I was probably too busy to blog! So what did I do in my time off, which meant that I was so preoccupied that I couldn’t possibly log onto WordPress? I shall tell you now, so sit back, put your feet up and make yourself a nice cup of tea, coffee or whatever warm beverage you desire.
It was my wife, Claire’s, birthday this weekend. So we decided to go away for a minibreak at the start of the week. During our earlier years as a couple, we would go away to Weymouth and thought it would be nice to revisit the seaside town as a married couple.
We had previously stayed in a bed and breakfast, and although this was nice, we decided this time to opt for something different. It is always awkward at a B&B, as it feels like you’re staying in someone’s home. This is no more so than at breakfast, when you and another couple are sat in the owner’s dining room, being forced to make small talk about things you have no real interest in. To avoid this, we stayed in a Premier Inn. I’ve stayed in these hotels before and as we all know, they come personally recommended by Lenny Henry. The beds are apparently so comfortable that you can sleep in them anywhere – I’ve seen old Len having a good night’s sleep in a field, at a party, even in the middle of a busy city street.
Weymouth is a really nice place to visit, but when it’s out of season and cold, the seafront is like a ghost town. Some of the amusement arcades were open, but they all had crap prizes. Claire tried to win a soft toy on the claw machine, but failed miserably. I think it was rigged and had a million pounds into the thing, we still wouldn’t have won. She did win a lolly on a 2p machine, after putting in about a kilo of copper coins.
The town centre was just like any other town in England; with your WH Smith, Debenhams and a Poundland. The only shop of any note was a retro sweet shop. Not only did we find some nice gifts to take home with us, but I discovered some treats I have been trying to find for ages – sugar mice and fireball jawbreakers. The sugar mice are a guaranteed way to get diabetes – pure sugar, bound together with glucose syrup. I should really have popped into Boots on the way back to the hotel to pick up some insulin. The jawbreakers were a favourite of mine as a child – they are gobstoppers, which burn your mouth. I know that I could have achieved the same effect by just putting burning phosphorus into my gob and burning off the roof of my mouth, but that’s less fun.
We did see the sea, which is always good, considering we went to a seaside town. I wasn’t prepared to strip off and wade into the Mediterranean in Portugal on a boiling summers day, so there was no chance of me getting into the freezing waters of Weymouth. Even the dogs, which were running up and down the sands, kept out of the sea.
The train home was eventful. I found five pounds on a seat when we first got on. The person who had obviously lost it was long gone, so I took it, but felt guilty about doing so. I really hope the money belonged to some rich businessman or a nasty chav, and not a little old lady. We sat next to the toilets. Luckily, they were only used once (not by us, I will add). A woman also got onto the train with her pet dog, which was petrified. The dog cried for its entire stay on the train. The dog also stunk. At least I think it was the dog and not its owner.
That’s part one of my mammoth week blog. I will write about a shopping trip, some rubbish football and cleaning the house shortly.
… well it is December tomorrow.
Last night I cut myself. Not in an Eamo kind of way. In a manner which only I could. I was lying in bed, when I felt a sharp pain in my thumb. I turned the bedside lamp on, to find that there was a cut on my thumb. There wasn’t lots of blood, but my flesh had been torn and was separating whenever I moved my hand. It made me feel more sick than pained. I don’t know how I obtained the wound. It looks like a papercut, but there was no paper in sight. Clearly, this was caused by one of two things… I must have either cut myself on the duvet, or I have stigmata.
Luckily I have some plasters, which fixed my torn skin together. Unluckily, the plasters are rubbish. Every time I wash my hands – which, as people who know me will testify, is A LOT, throughout the day – the plaster falls off. They are not waterproof in the slightest. I may as well wrap some sellotape around my thumb. It would be a lot cheaper and probably more effective. I hope my skin heals overnight (and I don’t cut myself again), so I can leave the plasters at home tomorrow, as I’m fast running out of the things!
Blogging can be very addictive. I should know. I started this blog in 2004 – over 11 years ago. Unfortunately, while it can be a very addictive hobby, it’s also something which is very easy to neglect. A bit like a house plant or a dog. The longer the abandonment lasts, the more the blog/plant/dog deteriorates, making it less of an incentive to invest time in the thing.
Don’t worry. Firstly, I don’t own a dog (although I do own a rather poorly looking houseplant). Also, I’m not going to stop blogging. I’ll really, really try to get back to blogging the usual rubbish stories and tired jokes. Hurray.
… and how amazing do they look?