Funny how a day off from work will put everything right with the world isn't it? Despite having to deal with idiots all day (management not customers) and real idiots (customers not management) I'm in a remarkably good humour for the tired and bedraggled mess that I really am. Yestrerday however was a totally different matter all together. After the idiots (management not customers) wound me up and then left me to stew all weekend I had to deal with some real idiot (customer not management) dropping 5 litres of fencecare paint all over my floor/products/shelves/price tickets/under shelves/fixturing etc. 3 hours it took to clean it up and by bollocks I was ready to take on god himself in a pitched battle,it really was a case of "Hulk Smash" i'm afraid but fortunately I have an off switch now and I don't shout at people anymore. My tongue has teeth marks in it. I just chill in the sun whilst waiting for the buses home and listen to my music on the walkman. I do like the summer even if the last time I actually sunbathed was at Live aid in '85 (fell asleep to Status Quo and woke up to Queen instant Lobster boy) the girls wear less and all those gorgeous ones who have been hiding all winter suddenly come out of the wood work and outnumber the munters. Peanut smuggling season I call it for obvious reasons. Although that fat woman on the bus tonight should never have been allowed near the lycra section. Ya see years ago when I used stand talking to the bloke who ran the kebab shop as we used to watch the women in the gym across the road (a very good view until they frosted up the windows) that was an attractive sight to behold in lycra. Not so this woman who resembled the garbage bag I took out to the bin the other night with legs and where she'd been sat down on the seat she'd sweated and her legging had become 'lodged' so when she arose it was like a camel chewing a boiled sweet.
Tonight's music is from the Sex Pistols their last ever gig from the Winterland in 1978. Not really a Sex Pistols fan myself punk seemed to never reach us in the backwoods of Norfolk until around 1988 (shortly after we found out that Queen Victoria had died). I hope you enjoy the music sans spitting :)
Tra la la for now (Bonjour ma petite fleur) ;)