by Simon

Oh I’m not a happy bunny today. I feel particularly “grumpy old man” today.

I hate:

People trying to sell me things. I don’t care if it is cheaper than what I’m paying elsewhere. If I want to pay less I will find a way to pay less myself. Not from somebody doorstepping me while I’m trying to unwind from a day at work.

Talking of which:

How do some people get a job? I work with a lot of people, perfectly nice well educated people. But without a lick of common sense between them. And if I have to tell somebody the same thing three times in a row before it starts to sink in again I will murder that somebody.

And then there’s this other thing. There are people in the world who, I think, believe me to be a bit of a worrier. I’m not, I just like occasionally to dot the i’s and cross the t’s before I sit back and say “sod it, que sera”. It’s born a little of experience, flying by the seat of your pants can sometimes leave you in mid air with your arse on show.

But I tell you this, I try not to say it, we’ll skirt around it, but it’s sitting there like some bloody great shining mountain in the middle of us. I Told You So. If you climb to the top of it you’ll see a flag with my face on it. You didn’t listen and look where it’s got you. In a bloody mess up to your armpits. Which could have been avoided. Oh yes it could.

I gave up smoking a month ago. I don’t miss it that much. Honestly.

Meanwhile in my head it’s 1966 and I’ve got not a care in the world and this is the soundtrack:

Pierro Piccioni – Fumo Di Londra