done by 12
not sure what’s happening there. got everything done by 12 and now I have choices. take look out the window and you’ll see it’s one of those days where the tarmac outside St Peter’s has gone crumbly round the edges and sticks to the bottom of your flip flops so maybe it’s a good day to run around the ring road with a sponge. but no. it might be just about enough to stagger to the riverside and then launch into an embarrassing hill climb with arms flailing around like a demented ape followed around by a fat lothario with spiderweb tats and an uncomfortable chin. but it’s just a bit too late for that now. there’s even a chance that you could pick up where you left off up the city and scuttle around the poundstretcher shop and the bus stop catching glimpses of local dolts with their stomach sticking out and knock-off after shave wafting out the in door of chapelfield (St Stephen’s exit). jingle jangle
everybody is out. it’s thursday. I mean. you’ve got the keys but you can’t quite bring yourself to fire up the scenic and head off to neverland, even though you said you’d have a go at it when you had the chance. go on, look again. 24 degrees, blue sky, loads of real people doing things out there like having a life and talking nonsense about licensing hours and cheese and parking on the residents parking spot in their taxis with the window open and a scotch egg on the passenger seat. you should be doing that. but you’re not. you’ve got a meeting in 2 and a half hours so you’re just going to stay cemented into that box, scribbling drivel into this client and then you might go get a ginsters and read the NME in the darkness of the kitchen. at least you’ll get out the house to the shop down the road for 2 minutes. that’ll do. then you can come back upstairs and watch files uploading for another hour or so until sleep apneoa kicks in and you scrape yourself of the carpet just as the phone rings and then you can dribble in the receiver for the next 3 hours thinkng about how you never have time to get out these day
idiot