long time since i've been on.
one of my two labs, the ten year old golden, has just died in my girlfriends arms after forfeiting a third cancer operation. there was a night of banshee-howling pain so the right thing was done.
it's cold, windy and empty for end-june in brighton.
coming back into the flat there's a fucking great hole of silence. no thumping of a wagging tail on the floor-boards. oscar, the black lab, keeps looking for the late widdle jack and is confused. they were together eight and a half years.
a scenario:
wakes at 5.30am and listens to the financial news on the world service. has a slash. girlfriend's up at 6am and takes the dog out before going for a swim at the gym. doze and listen to the news on radio 4 for a couple of hours. basically negating the guardian which has turned up in the meantime; except for the obituaries and crossword.
she leaves at 8.30am and the pc goes on with a second cup of lemon tea with honey. even tough i've listened to the shipping forecast i still gaze out at the eastern, southern and western horizons to check on the day's weather. in my dressing gown.
the first thing i'll check on the pc (e-mails & skype aside) is spot gold, oil, currencies and overnight asian markets. i don't know why but it's habit having been involved for over twenty years.
then i'll have a look at some porn and maybe wank, or maybe not.
there will probably have been a phone call with an automated message from a creditor by then. i, however, do not accept unacknowledged phone calls - unless i'm pissed, when they're told to jog on.
probably 9.30am by now so we switch from radio 4 to ken bruce on radio 2 (after that bore wogan has left his seat).
any business calls necessary are made over the next couple of hours - except during pop meister (sacred) at 10.30am.
either bath or shower and get dressed, write notes down for an unwritten song or book and look out of the bedroom/office window to see if the medusa (bar) is open. should there be a glass of red left from the night before, i'll quaff that as it's rude not to.
11.30am/12 noon it's down to the bar for a couple of pints with the guardian crossword and politely ignoring people you certainly wouldn't ask back for dinner.
maybe a game of backgammon over lunch with the odd mad friend, or not. the cricket could be on long wave, anyway.
if there has been backgammon, that means a few bottles of red and that means bed around 4.30pm for a quick siesta.
back up an hour later and clear the place and start doing the washing-up before the maid gets home to walk the (sole) dog at 6pm.
cook a mea. watch rubbish or sport on tv and slink back into bed with papers or a book.
it's a hard life. oh, then you worry about how to pay the rent and bills all night over the pack of cigarettes and bottle of merlot.
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