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Saturday, 24 January 2015


Mandi has volunteered to work overtime tomorrow instead of today, so I assume that the Ministry of Justice has some spare money to get rid of if they want to start paying double time. With that in mind I decided to not do any work today so we could spend some time together and salvage something from the weekend. Last night I was supposed to be at a gig but a nap after work got a little out of hand and I woke up far too late to go out, I therefore stayed up until about five o’clock this morning but couldn’t really motivate myself into working so instead (and it really should count as work) I sorted through the music for the podcast. This means I will have to record The Sunday Alternative tomorrow morning which isn’t the end of the world but is a responsibility that I could live without on a Sunday morning. I should really get the thing recorded on Friday as it is a one-take recording that should in theory only take me half an hour from beginning to end. As a result of messing up my sleep pattern, (I would say that this is a symptom of depression but I’ve always been erratic with my sleeping habits – I’m told that when I was a baby I would stay awake until three in the morning and sleep all day, although that’s true of a lot of babies I imagine) I didn’t wake up until about twelve and did my usual trick of pulling on whatever clothes were on the floor and taking Jack to the park.

To update something I mentioned in a recent blog, I bought Jack two new rubber balls in a pack costing one pound; in the blog I asked for some sales but as you know I wouldn’t use PayPal money for my own personal needs, or those of my dog. My purchase was bought using my own hard earned money you’ll be pleased/indifferent to know. We must have spent just over an hour playing with the ball, (he’s only having one at a time otherwise he’ll lose or wreck them both), and again I envied the needs of a dog. I need food, clothing, cigarettes, teabags, milk, television, live music, sex, and Internet connection, hot water, and to regularly purchase vinyl records. He needs food, love, a ball to run after once I’ve thrown it away, and to go for a walk a few times a day. When he is feeling sad he can be cured by having his tummy rubbed, that doesn’t help my moods at all because I hate anyone touching my stomach. If I believed in reincarnation I’d come back as a household dog (or cat), but it would have to be a warm loving home with the above requirements. Some of the pet owners I have seen out and about shouldn’t be allowed to look after a stuffed toy, never mind a living animal that just wants to be loved and to love in return.

It wouldn’t be a bad idea to reintroduce the dog licence like everyone used to have when I was a kid. My dad insisted we had a black and white dog because the licence was cheaper*, thank you very much and goodnight.

*This isn’t true; I was attempting to finish on a joke.

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This week’s edition of The Sunday Alternative is here.