I’m in Wetherspoons, having a coffee (12 sugars) before going to CRI for Breakfast Club.
I’m traditionally a tea drinker but I can’t actually remember the last time I had a cup of tea (probably when I used to make tea and crumpets for my ex-fiance). I didn’t actually notice the transition; perhaps because I’m getting by on three hours’ sleep a night (up at 6AM again today as much to do). The coffee in ‘spoons is very nice in any case, as is McDonald’s.
People tend to fall into distinct camps when it comes to tea or coffee (I’ve moved over to the other side). This applies to other things:
- Beatles or Stones? (I’m Beatles)
- Cats or dogs? Another decamp: I’ve always been a cat person but since being on the road, I’ve grown to favour dogs (you meet more dogs than cats out here).
- McDonald’s or Burger King? McDonald’s
- Mum or dad? I have neither that I recognise; brother or sister, ditto
Busy week this week: as well as the usual doctors’, Job Centre and daily CRI, tomorrow the writing course starts at CRI. Wednesday is when Small Sparks applications are submitted and I have to convince a panel that the netbook / tablet I’ve applied for is something I need (I do and I will). Then on Thursday I have a meeting with my key worker, which a friend of mine may attend with me. Thursday is also my ex-dad’s birthday (he’ll be 72). Despite being banned from all contact (it’s their coping mechanism, we’ve decided), I was tempted to give the old man a call to wish him Many Happy Returns and to tell him that I love him, as I did with my ex-mum. Given the frosty reception I received when making that call though, I don’t think I’ll bother. Enough people read this blog and talk of me behind my back that I’m sure my sentiments will reach home anyway.
Off to rehab now. There’s rarely anyone there for Breakfast club on a Monday, so I’ll commandeer the computer and have a coffee; on my own.
Coffee (for one) – with 12 sugars – in McDonald’s having spent most of the afternoon in the library (reading, writing, researching, learning.)
I’ve returned Life of Pi (to which I remain somewhat indifferent) and continue to read The Man in the Picture, by Susan Hill. It’s a slim volume of only 140 pages and it’s quite engaging, so it shouldn’t take me long to devour it (read it, as opposed to eat it). Therefore I’ve borrowed another book to read afterwards: The Line of Beauty, by Alan Hollinghurst (winner of the 2004 Man Booker Prize). At just over 500 pages, it’s quite a lump but I do like to bury myself in a good book and often the longer a book, the more challenging the read. I relish a challenge and like to be engaged (mentally; as well as to ex-fiances) although I did give up on War and Peace.
I met up with Blue again today and – subtle as a breeze block – his initial greeting was, “Fucking hell mate! What the fuck’s happened to your face?”. Suffice to say for now that there was an incident involving molten candle wax. My latest entrepreneurial idea is to market a range of grill toaster things (like George Forman) and use a photo of me with the strap line “So good I put my face on it”. Simon Weston could take a leaf out of my book.
Wetherspoons again, writing (again) and reading The Man in the Picture (I’m on page 103 of 140): it’s quite engrossing. There was a chance I was meeting Becca but she’s departing for a week away early in the morning, so she has to pack. I was hoping to put a proposition to her in person but in her absence I’ve emailed her. I await a reply and upon receipt, I shall reveal the proposition (not a proposal of marriage) whatever the outcome.
For now, coffee for one.