Wemberley

I'm off to Wembley in a few minutes. Its the third time in 2 years. I want everything to be perfect. It won't be. My stomach feels weird - nit my own. I'd love to think that its pre-match nerves but the symptoms are too similar you youngest son who came home from school ill on thursday. He's not nervous about the game - and I'm not sure that the butterflies are contagious in that way.

(Pause to feed whinging cat - he's not nervous either)

I decided not to go on the coach from cardiff with friend who took children and fathers. I opted for the drinking choice, the cheap hotel, the national express. Not sure my stomach agrees. I have to hide my blue shiny shirt until I meet the protection of the crowd - living as I do in enemy territory. The bus will be a shiny blue sea.

Fretting about being late because of traffic, about being too hot, being too cold, drinking too much and being ill, not drinking enough and being left out, losing my stuff, missing the bus. Oh - before i forget - there's the small matter of a game. Not much I can do about that.

Back

After seven months of silence three of which were imposed by a nasty hacker who made this blog redirect to a counter ad - I'm back. Thanks go to the friend who managed to return this blog to its rightful owner - me. All I need now is something to say.

Test

Decisions

She's away this week. There are lots of things I want to do with my limited free time. Mostly things that would cause discussion, negotiation, possible consternation if she were home. She's usually happy for me to get stuff out of my system - usually by putting stuff into my system.

On the way home from work today, I had several ideas. The first one was to go to the pub for a pint and read my book, then get chips and indian snacks and bring them home. I had less than three hours between getting home and going to the Open "No mic". I toyed with the idea of trying out the Morrocan - not the one I've been to - but I remembered the sign in the window saying "No alcohol during the month of ramadan". This didn't fit.

In thinking about going for a pint I was clear that it would be in the Sugar Loaf. I like reading my book in public places and I'm gripped by my current novel - Crime by Irvine Welsh. Then it occured to me that I might meet someone in the Loaf and would have to chat and not read.

I settled on the Thali cafe. I had some deliberation over whether or not the line outside was double yellow. With the assistance of the Thali guy I decided it was and didn't park there. I went to the offie and having procured a large bottle of San Miguel, I entered the cafe and disappointingly the queue. When I got to the front I was surprisingly unperterbed by the £1 I was charged for bringing a bottle.

"Will you open it for me in that case?" I insisted.

He did.

I decided to sit on the sofa and as I opened my book I noticed that the woman sitting opposite was someone i had vaguely known about 17 years ago. I was prepared for a cursory smile but when she looked up she blanked me. I would prefer to think that she was having one to one time with herself like me - rather than her not recognising me.

Ladies and Gents

A toilet in an office I visited today

Danger

I am trying out my new camera. This was in my road. In hadn't noticed it before but did when loking for things to photograph.

All the work
Seeing as he hardly talks to me unless I contact him and when I do see him he doesn't tell me anything unless I ask him direct questions - I occasionally log on to find out what he's thinking. Sometimes I get some clues this way.

When he's offish towards me I scan my memory to think of what it is I've done to cause this. This is a character flaw of mine. If I was a better person I wouldn't give a shit.

He reminds me of someone else who always seems to make others do all the work of communication. When I ask him a question, he makes a noise/ gesture which could equally be yes or no. I have to ask him again to see what he means. He is oblivious.

I'm sick and tired.