Feedback Friday :: Goodbye Peckham and All This Cock and Bullshit, Hello Hysteria and Cock A Happy Hoop!

bulk :: 15st 6
days without blogging :: 6 (Aaaaaaaaaarrrrgggghhh! If it reaches a whole week without a decent excuse, it dies, like a Tamagotchi.)
Peckham hours remaining :: 12
boxes surrounding me :: 15 (all filled with books)
imminent arrivals :: 1
pipes down :: 3
fresh starts :: 4

Dead blog! Dead blog!

Blimey. Sorry about that. Is it already a week? I can barely believe it. Time flies when you’re working for the government. Ssshhh! Keep Mum. She’s not so dumb. Not much longer now though. In fact, the good news is, I’ve only got one more week doing this cock and bullshit, then I’ve got a much more interesting job lined up. A writing job. This is great news. This pleases me more than a very friendly woman with five eager mouths. I’m cock-a-hoop!

In other news, life has taken a number of exceedingly interesting turns over the last few weeks. Quite incredible things are, have been and will be afoot, and life, my faithful friend, is full of surprises. In fact, if I were to ever tell you exactly how my life has changed just recently, and in exactly how many ways (oh so many), you would probably cough up a kidney in the process of trying to actually comprehend it all. You might very well refract internally just trying to get your head round it. Then I’d have to rush you to hospital and sit by your bed all night, holding on to your hand and mopping your brow until you slipped into eternal oblivion at the crack of dawn. Incidental bystanders would stand by incidentally, arms folded, shaking their heads in disbelief as I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, enough tears to drown a unicorn in a silver bucket.

I’ll tell you about it on Monday, if you’re around. In the meantime, Keith has just pierced the M25 and I have to prepare the lubricants for the evening’s entertainment. He’s on his way down to help me celebrate this monumental weekend and shift my capacious ass out of Peckham with a bang.

That all sounds slightly gay, doesn't it. Well, when the cat's away, the mouse's homosexual tendencies will bubble to the surface like tiny cocks with teeth. No, I'm just kidding. But now I must go. For this is my last night. And I intend to have fun.

Come back on Monday. It’ll be lovely.

And have a good weekend yourself.

I kiss your face.

Friday Feedback :: Looking Forward

bulk :: 15st 7
gym visits :: 2
cigarettes :: 2 (eek!)
medical moments :: 2

I’m stealing moments of unprotected neighbourhood wireless here and there where I can, skulking in internet pissoirs when I can’t. A pound an hour, a tenner a day. Getting on with work, looking forward.

Life is suddenly going very very quickly. Slow down, you bugger, say I, but does it listen? Does it arse.

I’ve got two very important weekends coming up. Next weekend I’m moving, leaving Peckham. To be perfectly honest, this can’t really come fast enough. At first I was fond of its no frills, Brixton-lite, urban grit, and I loved Khan’s Bargain Store – their website says it all really, Peckham to a tee – but now, after a few short months, I’ve had enough. Mostly I’ve had enough of trudging up greasy streets thick with McDonald’s packaging and coke cans. Oh, and people spitting, inches from my face. It happens all the time in Peckham. It’s like spitting is perceived as a social grace here. Animals.

Oh, and yesterday I was in Morrisons (I'm not proud), looking at the cheap DVDs (yeah, whatever) and this guy walked up and stood in front of me, his back inches from my face, totally blocking the DVD display. I laughed, in a disbelieving way. He turned to stare at me. He was large, taller than I am and and much more muscular. He already looked really offended. We had the following conversation:

Me: [gesturing] Excuse me. Cheers.

He says nothing and glares at me like I am a chicken and he is about to wring my neck.

Me: I was looking at the DVDs.

He glances at his friend who guffaws. He seriously looks like he is about to attack me.

Me: Are you alright?

Him: I was until I saw you.

Me: [sighing] I tell you what then, here's a suggestion: why don't you get out of my way, go somewhere far away with your retarded friend here and just have a long, hard think about why you're such an unspeakable cunt? Eh? Why don't you do that before you get hurt?

Him: [his expression changing to one of creeping fear and dawning realisation that he is in the presence of a superior being] OK, mate. Sorry. You've taught me a very valuable lesson about life. Thank you. Oh, and before I go, here, have a fiver.

Actually, as you may have already imagined, some of that conversation I made up. It actually ended with me skulking off, remembering what someone said in the comments here yesterday, taking deep, calming breaths and thinking that soon I'd be gone, away from this vicious neanderthal and his rotten South London ilk.

Actually, thinking about it, I don’t think I’ve ever been so eager to move before in my life. A week to go and I’m already packed. Everyone who needs to be informed has been informed and everything is in place. In eight days' time, I will be gone.

This weekend however, I'm going a little bit further south for something much, much more important. Which I’m not going to tell you about. Not yet anyway.

Oh, and by the way, I haven’t got AIDS!

Hurrah!

Now you. What are you up to this weekend? Anything interesting?