SATURDAY MORNING

     THIS MORNING'S SOUNDTRACK - Kids TV and arguing sprogs.  Nice.


     It's a funny thing, the weekend.  God knows, it used to be drink, drugs and meaningless sexual encounters, and I loved every minute of it.  Now, now...  It's the boy's football training, it's the boy's rugby training instead of slowly waking up, feeling like shite and watching Hollyoaks in bed, supping tea.  Now I find myself shaking like a shitting dog, standing on the touchline of a football/rugby pitch located in, well, who knows where?

     Mal thought it would be a good idea to wake me this morning saying, "I love you, Daddy and you love me."  Never were truer words spoken and I never get bored of hearing them.  However, some times of day are better than others to hear them.  Half past five in the fucking morning is not one of those times.

     The weekend is credit card payments, tax for the car and an MOT.  I tried taxing the fucker last night, only to discover that I can't because I've been driving around illegally for three months because the MOT ran out at the end of November.  Christ.  So now I've got to spend money I don't have on getting the pile (and how I hate my car) through in order to tax it.  Tax is £130 and the MOT is £55, providing it gets through with no trouble.  I know that due to my relationship/treatment of the car (bumping up kerbs, misjudging distances and hitting pillars in car parks, edging into walls, etc), there will be an element of spite involved and the fucker's gonna fail on several points.  Maybe the MOT place will offer to take it off my hands.  Honestly - anyone offers me enough for it, they can have it there and then.

     Whatever happened to my marvellous irresponsibility?  When did life start having structure?  Meaning?  Consequence?  I used to ironically enjoy kids' TV, but now I'm forced into watching it and it gives me the shits.  I sneer at the juvenile storylines (what do I expect?  Rashomon?), the piss poor animation, voice work, music, etc, etc, etc.  Maybe I'm expecting too much of the programmes.  Where's Pipkins?  Jamie and the Magic Torch?  Chorlton and the Wheelies?  I'm sure that if I looked at them now (and they're undoubtedly on YouTube but I want my rose tinted specs to remain rose tinted, thank you very much), I'd be aghast, but my youth is my youth and I don't want it tampered with.

     Not India related.  Never mind.