Tuesday, 27 August 2013

A short break

Forgot to post this on here, due to a hectic couple of weeks I have taken a short break from posting blogs.
I reckon I'll be back by my dad's birthday :-)

Monday, 26 August 2013

Steve Rants - Nail varnish on a plane.

 Steve sighed a heavy sigh that signalled to Johnny that he had something on his mind. Johnny watched his friend formulate his thoughts.

‘Is it acceptable to put nail varnish on on a plane?’
‘No, Steve, I think a plane requires a completely different type of paint, needs to be more durable.’ Johnnys answer only caused Steve to furrow his brow further.
‘Plus.’ Johnny added ‘it would take too long with that little brush.’
‘Seriously, Johnny answer the question.’
‘Why? Do you like to transform into a woman on flights?’
Again Steve ignored his friend’s sarcasm.
‘I was flying home last week and this stupid woman in the seat next to me starts painting her bloody nails, stinking out the whole plane.’
‘Oh I see,’ said Johnny, ‘that does seem a but rum.’
‘Just a bit yes, why on earth does she think that is socially acceptable? Most women I’ve known open a window before painting their nails but this woman thinks she can do it in an enclosed space.
‘Did you say anything?’
‘Of course I did.’
‘Oh god,’ Johnny covered his ears not wanting to hear any more. 
‘I told her it was anti-social and selfish.’
‘And did she stop’
‘Well, of course. She knew she was in the wrong. Just thought people would be too polite to say anything, ha she didn’t reckon on coming across me.’  
Johnny smiled imagining the scene. He knew  his friend was in the right but he couldn’t help feeling sorry for the woman involved. ‘I’ll get the beers in shall I?’ Johnny smiled to himself as he went across to the bar to buy the beers.

Friday, 23 August 2013


Jeff lay on the floor looking at his fridge. He couldn’t remember when he’d removed the bottom panel or why for that matter but he knew he had promised to put it back tomorrow. It certainly wasn’t yesterday, or the day before, he’d probably removed it 14 months ago or maybe more and it was still removed. Tomorrow never comes. Would tomorrow ever come?

Jeff wasn’t drunk, don’t get me wrong he wasn’t sober, but he wasn’t drunk. He was a mixture of drunk and resigned. Resigned to a life so ordinary that lying on the floor and musing about a detached part of a fridge for 23 minutes not only seemed perfectly normal but also quite comforting. The fact that it was 11.26am was immaterial. Time really didn't matter anymore. He wasn’t a complete hopeless case, he could still think clearly enough to know he should pull himself together but he didn’t quite have the energy or will to act on that thought.

He couldn’t really even say why he was there, why he found solace in the bottom of a bottle and the bottom of a fridge before lunch on a Tuesday. It just seemed that of all the options available this was the best, the easiest, the most attractive. 

If this was a movie there’d be a kid, there was always a kid, his kid or the local hooligan or the concerned girl next door, a kid who’d befriend him and via a tortured friendship make him see the error of his ways. But movies are make believe. There is no kid, no saviour. Jeff knew full well that the only person that could save him from his malaise was himself. But the floor, the fridge, the Fernet seemed just fine right now.

Thursday, 22 August 2013

Steve Rant - Sharing rooms

As soon as Johnny saw Steve sitting at the table ripping up a beer mat he knew he was in for an earful. Johnny wondered what was on Steve’s mind today, it could be anything. He braced himself and approached the table.
‘Hi Steve how you doing?’
‘Don’t even ask.’ There was a time, thought Johnny, when Steve at least had some kind words to say before he launched one of his tirades but these days there didn’t seem to be time for niceness. At least there was a fresh pint waiting for him to ease the pain. He took a deep breath, sat down and took a gulp of lager.
‘So what’s up?’
‘Well, you know how I hate our staff meetings?’
‘You’ve mentioned it once or twice yes.’ Johnny had forgotten that Steve had been to a staff meeting, it certainy explained the rage.
‘Well, this one was even worse, do you know what they did? They made us share bedrooms. At least up until now when they take us to some god forsaken place for three pointless days of bickering they have given us the dignity of single rooms but this time no. Single rooms are too good for us, this time I had to share.’
‘Ouch, I hate sharing rooms.’
‘So do I, I want the freedom to snore, fart, belch and scratch when I escape from my colleagues.’
‘I know what you mean.’ Johnny agreed.
‘Not that I do any of those you understand, but I just want the freedom to, if the need arises.’
Johnny smiled, not believing a word of it.
‘But to make it worse, I had to share with Graham.’ Steve often did this, talked about a character from work thinking that Johnny knew him.  ‘You know the guy with the black Audi.’ Johnny shrugged, still none the wiser. And God can he talk? Rabbit rabbit rabbit, whinge, whinge, whinge moan, moan moan.’
Johnny looked at his friend, this was a case of the pot calling the kettle a metallic grey if ever he had heard it, but Steve seemed to be oblivious to his hypocrisy.
‘And of course all the chat was about work, so I worked all day and talked work over dinner and then heard all his complaints about work once I’d retired to my room.’
‘That isn’t great.’ Johnny sympathised.
‘Not great? That’s a fucking understatement. It was fucking terrible.’
‘And, get this he's the biggest snorer in the whole world.’
‘What worse than you?’
‘Oi don’t be cheeky, three bloody nights, I reckon I slept 5 hours total. I’m shattered.’
‘Well I’m glad you managed to drag your knackered body to the pub, I’m honoured. Want another beer?’
Steve looked at his empty glass and nodded momentarily freeing Johnny from his purgatory.

Wednesday, 21 August 2013

Foot in it.

I think I might have put my foot in it. Maggie had been whinging, she has a right to whinge, she has a shit job and a demanding boss who gets her to work all the hours god sends. She’s being milked dry by a company who don’t give a damn for the welfare of their employees as long as targets are hit and money saved. Did I upset her? Judge for yourself, this is how the conversation went.
‘You know what I’d be better off being a prostitute.’
‘No, don’t even joke about that kind of thing, it’d be a horrible job.’
‘Seriously, if I was ten years younger I’d consider it anything’s got to be better than this shit.’
Now at this point I should have said something else along my earlier line of thought.
Something like, stop being silly, or don’t be daft or maybe talked about the drugs and violence that is an everyday part of a prostitute’s life. That even her boss is better than a violent, abusive pimp.
But no, I didn’t bother engaging brain, I just spoke.
‘Why ten years younger, I’d pay you for sex now.’
It was meant to be a compliment, in my mind it was a nice thing to say, surely I was saying she still had it but I could tell by the way her face contorted that there was nothing complimentary about the words. Within minutes her drink was finished and she said she had to rush off to an engagement she'd suddenly ‘remembered’.
So here I sit, my foot well and truly in it, wondering how I can undo the undoable.

Tuesday, 20 August 2013

The Taxi Ride

Dave sat slumped in the back of the taxi, he couldn’t ever remember being this tired, his knees ached and he couldn’t get his legs comfortable in the cramped space. His shoulders felt like they’d been carrying the weight of the world all day not the weight of his laptop and his head pounded like a sub-woofer at full volume. It was only another 20 minutes until he’d be home but right now that third of an hour felt like a third of a day. The most galling thing was despite his extreme tiredness Dave knew that when his head hit the pillow he wouldn’t be able to sleep. His mind would still be wired with thoughts of the day; the conference, the flight and the argument with Amber at the airport just before take off. Another argument about nothing, another sulk another silence. He’d sent her a text saying he’d landed but she’d not replied.

This was the latest in a long line of arguments, sulks or dramas between the two of them, the inevitable was staring Dave in the face but Dave was trying to look in the opposite direction.

Finally the taxi turned into his street and pulled up outside his building. Home at last. As he leant forward to see the meter the phone attached to the driver’s dashboard lit up and a tinny ringtone filled the car. Dave couldn’t believe what he saw. The photo that accompanied the ringtone was unmistakably Amber, and if there was any doubt the words ‘My Amber’ came up on the screen.
Thoughts filled Dave's mind, how did she know he was in this car? How did she have the driver’s number? Why did it say ‘My Amber’?
The driver pressed the button, the voice came over the speakers.
‘Hi lovely, he’s definitely not coming over tonight.’ That was Amber’s voice all right and each word was like a kick to the head.
‘I’ve got a customer love, I’ll call you back’ the driver interrupted.
‘I’ll give you a call too...’ Dave said sadly just as the driver was about to kill the call.
‘Dave? Amber’s voice was full of surprise.
The driver looked at his passenger who threw some money on the seat and quickly got out of the car. 
You've got some explaining to do,’ Dave said to no one in particular.