The weather has been horrendously hot of late.
Despite having enough fans in our bedroom to make it feel like we are in a wind tunnel, we both struggle to sleep due to the extreme heat.
I have therefore hit a new low. I have began fantasising over old headlines from the Daily Express newspaper.
I’m not after the stories of how immigrants are to blame for all our problems – from Freddo Frog chocolate bars going up by five pence, to the sky being too blue.
I want to read their infamous weather warnings. Tales to terrify the elderly into never leaving their homes between the months of September and June, for fear of polar bears.
Promises of temperatures colder than Mars. Advice to leave our freezer doors open to keep warm.
We all know it’s rubbish, but right now these headlines look divine. If only they were true…
The team tasked with removing my household recycling clearly dislike me…
A week or so ago, they appeared to drop kick a bag full of our rotting food down the street, before leaving it for Claire to clean up.
Most recently the good-for-nothing-so-and-sos left behind our cardboard recycling, despite taking away all our neighbours’ rubbish. I guess that I should be grateful for the small mercy they didn’t throw each bit of cardboard onto the roof of our house. Would that have caused them greater amusement than playing garbage ball with a bag of decomposing leftovers?
Worse still, is that our food recycling box has been stolen! I’m certain that the recycling dudes didn’t take it – they can probably get a brand new one whenever they like – all jobs have their perks.
They do have an awful habit of leaving our box wherever they can be bothered – i.e. not by our house where we left it.
As a result, Claire has to hunt for the box every week once it’s been emptied. Not too much of a problem, except last Friday it couldn’t be found. Some swine had nabbed it!
I’m not too aware of the resident-bin man etiquette. Perhaps I should have tipped them at Christmas. Place a fiver underneath a bag full of cold, stinking baked beans? What about at Easter? Should I have left a chocolate egg out? No doubt I would be fined for mixing cardboard, foil and food waste.
Do I confront the bin men? Yes, I have resorted to calling them that – I don’t mean any disrespect. Shout at them from my doorway, while shaking my fist in the air. These men are pretty burly – I would worry that if things turned nasty, someone would get hurt. I would hate to be responsible for injuring one of them!
I think it’s best to take the British approach. Write a letter of complaint. Although as I don’t live in 1978, I’ll send an email instead.
BBC weather had better be right on this…
If I fail to see any flashes in the sky, or hear rumbles apparently coming from the clouds, I will probably be so angry, that I will utilise all my rage against incorrect weather forecasts to create my own electrical storm.
About Me
So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
