Yes, another one.

Bear with me. I need to unload this weirdness. I have thought back and this dream was not induced by anything imbibed the previous evening.

So there I am in the school dining hall, ready to eat. Myself, Stan, Matt Colgate and various people I now work with are filing past the hotplate which for some reason is now about 100 yards long. I can’t decide what to have and end up at the other end with an empty plate. For some reason we all exit the hotplate queue at a point roughly where Marlborough House sat. Surprisingly, this is now where my back garden is….and I woke up.

Actually, this is unusual in as much as this was a morning dream. I got up at about 8am, made a cuppa and went back to bed. This is when I had it.

So how has your Bank Holiday weekend been? I have spent 3 long days painting my bedroom whilst not removing a single item of furniture (don’t ask). It was fun, but I managed to listen to Radio 2 from 8am this morning until about 20 minutes ago because the radio was in an inaccessible corner of the room and I couldn’t re-tune it. Honest. I got 33 points on Ken Bruce’s Popmaster quiz, but only my cat witnessed the thrilling and memorable performance.

The Olympics was fun. For some reason, I was more into it this year than in the past. Maybe its another sympton of growing old. At work, the break areas all have TVs now and I spent far too much time catching  a quick glimpse of the Grecian Goings On. Greece looked great and reminded me of my ideallic youth in Cyprus, wherefrom the bronzed Veaseys recently returned. You have to wonder though, with those crystal clear seas, blue skies and shimmering sun whether Manchester ever has a chance in hell of ever hosting the games. Having said that, Beijjing in 2008 hardly promises similar scenes.

I am sick to death of media coverage of grinning school kids and their 15 ‘A’ grade O level passes. No particular reason I suppose, other than a certain camerardery I share with those slightly less successful souls. I am seriously considering going back to college to get 10 or so of my own. I quite fancy some of those A levels too. What say you Sean? I don’t wanna go alone.

Note to self. Stop ending half-sentences with…

I can’t help it. Its the written equivalent of a thoughtful pause. I do that a lot.

So, where were we? Damn. Its been more than a week since my last confession. Blogs are all well and good but they do make you overly concious of the passage of time. I hardly need anything else to remind me of that.

The bigger of my two cats is very sad. Pining in fact.

When we moved in almost a year ago, he quickly made friends with a little white lady cat called Poppy. They used to sit about together, chase each other and so on. About a month ago she died suddenly and he now spends most of his day sat outside her house. It breaks your very heart.

Well, as you brush away a manly tear think of poor me today. I set aside 30 mins from my busy day to put up some rollerblinds. 2 hours and 1 broken drill bit later I am sweaty, angry and very much wish to meet the cretin who thinks curtains are not good enough. Back-to-front twice and then not straight. Fortunately, the hapless DIY victim can rely on the thoughtful designers who saw fit to include an instruction sheet , albeit one barely large enough with which to wipe one’s arse. Three small pictures. One – sketch of proud, unsuspecting purchaser staring lovingly at new rollerblind in its packaging. Two – sketch of entire assembly process, complete with several arrows and numbers. Three – One finished rollerlblind.

Thank you so bloody much.

And so to the footy.

Yes, I am one of those annoying people who only watches England internationals. Once every two years I become entranced by the beautiful game and start to gather with others of my ilk next to the coffee machine at work and speak in loud, confident tones of how “Becks” is off his form and so forth.

The England v Portugal once more reduced me to tears and is quite easily the most intense 15 minutes I had ever witnessed.

Finally Greece were victorious and I watched it. Bottle of Tizer and a Kebab close by. I have no idea of the players’ names except that most of them end is “os” but the boys done good and I am happy for them. At least we all know what the Portuguese word for “Oh Shit!” is.

Well, at least how to shape our mouths for it anyway.