Urgh. Wake up.
What a parlous state of affairs this whole 'living day to day' thing is.
Lounging around in my pyjamas.
God, there are some real beauties on Trisha* this morning.
(* = trashy talkshow goodness)
Cindy, who has tattoo of a marijuana leaf on her shoulder, says that Wayne is not the kind of man she is after.
Wayne drinks too much and Cindy and Wayne can't have children because Wayne has a history of beating up people. Although Wayne did find a naked man under the bed. Cindy says it was her cousin's friend who was fixing the plumbing.
It's very early but I decide to take some cushions out onto the sun terrace to soak up some rays.
(Commonly known as a pre-lunch snooze)
Murder, She... you know the drill!
Wander around house like oooh.. Aaah? Huh?!
Gym. The usual.
"Well, yes I was using that bench but how were you supposed to know?
"I mean, my towel is draped over it, my water bottle - with my name on the side - is plonked within an inch of it and I have pissed all over it. But that obviously escape you completely.
"So go ahead. Use the fucking equipment I was using. Wanker."
Sitting in the Starbucks drinking a mucho macho skinny latte.
As the world goes by, KD Lang* is singing.
(* = I refuse to indulge in this silly proper noun non-capitalisation plague that sees her name written as kd lang.)
It's so tedious to do this but if you want a version of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" that absolutely knocks Alexandra Burke into the distant shade then This. Is. It...
It relegates Alexandra Burke (won X-Factor by singing the song) because KD sings it from the bottom of her heart.
Wow. Amazing. Powerful. Pitch perfect. Soulful. Beautiful. Tender. Strong.
Making dinner which is usually a dull affair except I have cracked open a good ol' bottle of Boschendal. The (OTT) Boschendal back-story gets a regurgitation here.
So I am chopping vegetables, grilling bits of meat and washing salad while listening to the "Warblers" playlist that I have compiled.
You want it? You got it...
Lucie Silvas: The Game Is Won
Barbra Streisand: Woman in Love
Robin Beck: The First Time
(Ohmygod - the most amazing song to listen to, to pretend you're in love with someone. Of course you know it so well, it was originally made famous because of this.)
Celine Dion: Let's Talk About Love
The problem is that, despite all these great artists, Babs is trumping them all. I am listening to "Woman In Love" so loudly that I think that the whole of West Hampstead is shuddering their lower jaws along to the words.
I am trying to have dinner alfresco but the fucking wasps or buzzy things are doing a very good job of making the Outdoor Dinner Experience as hideous as possible.
Let that be a lesson to all of your fucken mates who're about to invade my periphery. You will die...
I am having lamb burgers (drained of their oil thanks to Tesco home kitchen towel), salad and radishes in a bowl but fa-fuks-sake.
Not the flies this time... Have I told you about the neighbours?
This is them...
Elderly man from India married British woman.
Wife died, leaving man to live with two daughters.
One daughter has three children all of whom live at same address.
Other daughter is bonking the limousine driver who lives with his wife down the road.
One of the three kids from first daughter has Tourettes which means she barks.
Trying to sit and enjoy dinner with Barbra Streisand but I can hear the neighbour's daughter yapping like a Jack Russell.
Urban fucking living. Invaded by wasps, eating processed meat as the teenager next door barks like a St Bernard on heat at Crufts.
Yes Mr Torrance. Please tell Delbert Grady that I will have top up of red wine. A big fucking barrel of a top up.
If I were to ask you, would you like to come and stay with me for a few weeks at a rural hotel in the middle of nowhere. I mean, "The Shining" is a horror film but it could actually be beautifully romantic, don't you think?
Except of course for the murdering and the bloods that cascades from the lifts.
I need bed.
(Oh by the way, it was statement 2. The other two have about a 10% element of reality in them, but they're not real.)