H (CR)appy 4th July

As is a common thing amongst creative people I am currently at a loss about what to write about. If I indeed ought be writing or when a paintbrush is next going to be applied to canvas. Currently I am fixating myself with building German heavy armour and aircraft of WW2 but it is not nearly the same thing. For a start the glues and paint involved are pretty pokey and if I don’t open the window I soon feel quite giddy. Also little bits of plastic never bother me until I need them and they go pinging off into the void, sometimes never to be seen again. I have tried fervently praying to various supernatural beings to return these items. (With moderate success) The rest of it will probably turn up when it wants to or at the ordained time. For everything else there is contacting the supplier and asking them, to which I have been informed they are often most obliging. 

That aside, the last few days have mostly been spent mending various little bits on the bicycle, the chain needed replacing, the brakes tightening and other things that all make for a pleasant and safe cycling experience. When things are suddenly taken away from us is when we begin to appreciate and relaise how much we depend on them. Let us start with electricity and then being hit by a power cut. We are plunged back into the Victorian era. No internet, no computer, television… Eff all in fact. We are obliged to get out lanterns, lamps and then read books or sit together telling stories and that kind of thing. I am saying this not because I am enjoying or have just enjoyed a power cut, but I know someone who has. They had a storm a couple of nights ago and it knocked out everything in the area for 24 hours or so. 

What else? 

This afternoon whilst waiting to start work for a client I felt my guts rumble and thought it prudent to make for a local convenience. ( It not being proper to use a clients loo) I got less than 20 seconds down the road and out it came.  I thought about emptying my guts in the local cemetery but a van wanted to get past. So with shit pouring down my leg I grabbed a bin bag from the boot and put it over the car seat, whence more came out and continued to flow all the way  to home . ( A good fifteen minute journey) Stopping at every light, as you do in such circumstances.  I had shit up my back , snit down my crack, shit on my arse shit on my shoes and generally everywhere. I was covered in shit, smelt of shit and looked like I had been rolling in shit.  It was hot when it came out, hit to sit in and cold as I made the long lonely walk to my front door, where I removed my shit covered clothes and wiped the shit off as best as I could before going to have a shower and washing myself free of the shit and then washing my clothes that were covered in shit. Finally I got a bucket of hot soapy water and washed the car seat that had been covered in shit and where shit had leaked up the back of my trousers and covered the rest of the seat. I swear I can still smell shit now, the car now smells  of Zoflora and shit. and I am not sure if I ever want to see , smell or even shit again. I am fed up with shit  and shitting myself is no longer a pastime I find any. ( If I ever did) pleasure in.

In case you are wondering, I did not go to work this afternoon.