Saturday 7 November 2009
Today I wake up flat in my flat.
As per routine I head to Asda and do my grocery shopping. No frills and limited fun.
Starting the weekend properly I listen to Danny Baker on Radio Five while I potter around my flat endeavouring to snag some writing.
Early into proceedings I receive a text message from my neighbour requesting to borrow the stepladder I possess (which is dad’s). As I hear him turn up I take the ladder out onto the landing and he shows his face. Briefly we catch up as it turns out that his old tenant (the nurse) had to move out because she had run out of money. We never clicked anyway so no great loss. I leave the steps with him as he sets about making his place look appealing for when he has to show more potential tenants around today. That is my idea of hell. People are my idea of hell.
Back inside I endeavour to write but results are only mixed and not overly efficient.
Today is the first round of the FA Cup and as a result ITV are showing Norwich playing at some part-timers called Paulton Rovers. Mercilessly they pull them apart and thump them 7-0. There is no dignity in thumping a non-league, this is the football equivalent of being a bully.
Originally Millwall were supposed to be playing AFC Wimbledon today but due to policing requirements (it being fucking firework night) the game has been moved to Monday night. As the sun comes out and a subtly gorgeous day takes form this proves particularly galling, especially in the light that I already have plans for Monday (Reginald D Hunter). Today could have been great had it not been for the pigs.
With such a bright day at my footsteps I toy with the idea of heading into town but really there is nothing I need to be doing there at this time. Really I should just get out and take in some fresh air but that all feels as if it takes effort so in the end I wind up continuing to potter and attempt to write in my flat.
Late into the afternoon Star Wars 3 arrives on ITV and find myself drawn into it. I remember when this movie first came out and the big fuss that was made about the birth and creation of Darth Vader. It opened the day after a V/VM gig in Colchester and a number of people from our “scene” went to see it the following day. Myself, I ended up going to see it on my own in Colchester’s Odeon the afternoon after my final AS English exam which in the end thoroughly flunked and messed up. That was back in 2005 when things were and felt fresh.
With these memories jangling in my mind I head over to my parents for 5PM in the hope of blagging some dinner and staying on and getting the boxing on pay-per-view. Unfortunately dad does not bite on this suggestion.
Instead I end up mending his computer again. It is pretty satisfying when I get it to work, it makes me feel smug and useful.
Together we all watch Harry Hill’s TV Burp before I go running for the hills in order to avoid being suckered into watching X-Factor like a zombie with the rest of the nation. I am positive this is when the government fires out subliminal messages They Live style.
Back at home I try to find a stream on the internet that is showing the boxing but I seem able to muster are rubbish previews. Eventually I give up and curse my bad luck.
As an alternative I begin watching a documentary on BBC2 about the Berlin Wall in an effort to recapture my excitement and enthusiasm for the city of last summer. Unfortunately it turns out to be something of a dry and drab programme that fails to sustain my as I eventually fall asleep.
When I reawaken from my disco nap in a muddled state I catch brief glimpses of Have I Got News For You, The Thick Of It and Nevermind The Buzzcocks, all the staples that keep a single man happy on a lonely Saturday at home with a dinner for one.
I begin pining for old Saturdays, days where I felt I had friends around but did not need them. For all the miserable moments I would experience and encounter at least it felt like I was doing something, that it was heading somewhere as opposed to now and a time where/when things are feeling as if they have grounded to a halt. Surely there is more to life than life.