Today I was brave. Not only brave – bold, courageous and heroic. I did something I rarely do, simply because it is too dangerous. I went into Bath city centre shopping! Yes, I know, I know. I would like to act modest and say “It was nothing”, but I would be lying. Quite frankly, I deserve a George Cross.
The streets of Bath were relatively peaceful. HMV, Lakeland, the Pound Shop and even WH Smith were all unusually absent of mad crowds of shoppers. Things were quiet. Too quiet. Like in any horror movie, when things are ‘too quiet’, it normally means unmeasurable terror will shortly be unleashed. I was not wrong.
Claire and I went into Marks and Spencer to buy some socks (rock and roll), a few birthday cards for a quid (always worthwhile keeping some of these) and a meal for Valentine’s Day tomorrow. BIG MISTAKE. Since what seems like Halloween, M&S have been using television advertisements to promote their Valentine’s Day meals; brainwashing audiences nationwide. “This isn’t just any chicken nuggets” the adverts promise “These are M&S chicken nuggets, made using the breast of hens fed on blueberries and saffron, and prepared by Italian virgins” For legal reasons that last bit was a lie. Probably. Maybe not. OK, probably a lie.
It seemed half of Somerset; no, half of England had descended upon the food section of the Bath branch, all shopping for Valentine’s Day food and drink. Anyone who has ever had the misfortune and stupidity to go shopping on Christmas Eve will testify how busy it is. It was like that. Probably worse. For some reason, every shopper over the age of 40 had taken a mobility scooter with them and almost every woman was pushing a child around in a buggy the size of a small car. So, not only did I have to carefully manoeuvre myself through a mass of people, but also dodge all the vehicles they had decided to take with them.
I escaped with my life. I am still shaken though. The most disturbing thing of the whole experience is knowing that after seeing all those people buying sexy M&S food today, a lot of people in Bath are going to be ‘getting some’ tomorrow night. Expect a boom of scooter-driving, pram-pushing babies in November.
Tonight’s blog is sponsored by Heinz Baked Beans
It’s windy out.
Today has been an exciting day. OK, exciting may be a slight exaggeration, but it is fair to say it has been a bit more interesting than others.
If you read my blog yesterday, you will have seen I was forced to spend the entire afternoon and part of the evening cleaning the house. I am pleased to report, that I broke free from my chains and shackles and am no longer a slave. I must give my slave master a doff of the hat, however, as I did a bloody good job at cleaning the place.
The letting agency called round to inspect the place, commenting how tidy it was and how all the mildew and grime which was on the shower during her last visit had now gone. A tad surprising, considering that was one of the few areas I hadn’t put much effort into cleaning. We were also complemented on our clean widows (something we have never washed) and our Liverpool FC bed cover. I had to point out that I was not a Liverpool supporter and the bed cover was certainly not from the Merseyside club! Just as we thought we were going to get a perfect review, she found some mould under the towel in the bathroom. A towel used to soak up a leak from the shower door they still haven’t fixed by them, so technically, not my fault – and that’s the law of the land, so there. While the lady didn’t say how well we did, I think I’ll award us an A-.
As part of the house renovation/cleaning, I ordered some storage containers from Argos. I felt the stacks of cardboard boxes in the spare bedroom where a bit unsightly and I would therefore transfer their contents (mostly Leeds United books) into something a little more attractive – rectangular blocks of PVC.
The estimated delivery time was between 7am and 6pm. I therefore set my alarm and was up and out and out of bed first thing in the morning. I knew Argos wouldn’t come that early and fully expected them to turn up while I was eating my tea, in the middle of Coach Trip. I was giving them too much credit. Shortly after 8am, my mobile phone rang. It was Argos, kindly informing me that they would not be coming at all today. Bastards. Like any good Watchdog viewer, who knows their customer rights, I moaned a bit about how I would be greatly inconvenienced and asked that my delivery charge be waived. It was. Anne Robinson would be proud of me, although I’ll still need to be on guard for when the boxes are delivered tomorrow. If they think I’ll be up at 7am tomorrow though, they can get to feck.
My last piece of exciting news took place yesterday. It involves takeaway pizza. Takeaway pizza from Pizzarella – that amazing place on Chelsea Road which makes the best pizzas outside of Italy – hand cooked in a flame oven by some crazy old Italian. Sadly, the crazy old Italian appears to have retired and the place has changed hands. I have been a little suspicious if this is actually for the better, especially when I noticed they are now selling kebabs and alcohol. I have therefore avoided it, although moving away from Newbridge is probably the biggest factor in me not frequenting the place.
Last night though, I found out that they now deliver! I ordered my favourite – cheese and mushroom pizza. It was delivered promptly and wasn’t that bad. OK, it didn’t have the taste of Italian passion, anger and sweat the pizzas of old once had, but it was still very nice, and much better than Pizza Hut, Dominos and the likes. Yes, I think I’ll be going back there again. Well done. Or should that be “ben fatto”.
Pizza delivery!
My first day of annual leave. How did I spend it? A day of relaxation? A day of leisure? Nope, none of these.
The first part of my annual leave was an entire day of hard labour. Hours of back-breaking work was spent on the house. I repaired the roof, built a wall and converted the loft into a guest bedroom. I lie. My work was not quite that intense, but it was close. The whole house was vacuumed, cleaned and tided.
I hate house work. I always find that however hard you rake the vacuum cleaner up and down the floor, bash it against the skirting board and curse at the dirt on the carpet, there is still an infinite supply of fluff which just won’t disappear.
All this work was in aid of the letting agency coming tomorrow, first thing in the morning may I add (another day of rest gone), to inspect the place, to ensure it is still standing. Luckily, the house has not fallen down yet, but if I have to get the vacuum cleaner out again anytime soon, that may change.
Last night, we went to The Harvester. Instead of eating in, we ordered a takeaway.
While waiting for the food to be cooked, we were invited to fill a bowl from the salad bar. Most of the salad didn’t look very nice or fresh. In fact, the majority of the vegetables appeared to have come from huge industrial tin cans. The coleslaw didn’t look very appetising and the tomatoes were a bit manky. Still, I filled the plastic container until it overflowed with carrot and even helped myself to a bread roll to eat while I waited for the main meal to be cooked.
I ordered the cheese, beef and bacon burger. It was no Big Mac, but still did a very good job at satisfyingly filling a hole, although given how hungry I was, I would have happily eaten a tramp’s shoe, had it been put in a bun.
The best of the whole meal was yet to come. The dessert. Rhubarb and custard ice cream sundae. It was amazing. As they would say in Longwell Green, where the takeaway came from, “It was proper gert lush!”
Here is the remainder of the takeaway
About Me
So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
