25: Twaddle

Sun. Flowers. Sketching. Writing. Happiness.


Just about sums up the last week! All was grand, until …

… today!

After yesterday’s prevarication, I’m surprised to find myself awake an hour before I need to be.

Going back to work isn’t going to be so dreadful after all!

But, there’s no point getting up before I have to, so I try to get some more shut-eye. It doesn’t happen; at least it doesn’t happen until about five minutes prior to my alarm going off.

Oh … not so wide awake after all!

I prise myself away from the soft pillows and comfy quilt (i.e. flat pillow with massive-dippy bit in the middle and a quilt on a starvation diet!), and attempt to splash some enthusiasm into my morning via a plop and a flush. It doesn’t work, so I do a return trip.

Plop and flush the second.

The third?

Can’t squeeze that one out, so I give up and stumble over to the sink for a water and soap washing ritual. But the warm water only makes me want to jump back into my even-warmer bed. Resisting the call, I resign myself to the inevitable.

Coffee. Porridge. Coffee. The third plop*. And DD! (Before you ask, then yes I did wash my hands after the plop part; DD has standards!) I get a firm hold on DD’s steering wheel, and she stutters her way up the hill, before showing off with a neat U-turn.

DD judders back down the hill -and stalls! Stops in exactly the same place we started out at – my cave! She informs me that I need to re-enter my abode to pick up my mobile phone.

‘Good thinking, DD! Judging by the distance you’ve covered so far, I might need access to the emergency-breakdown guys (sexist, I know – but no female has ever come and rescued me from DD, or any other, claptrap of an old banger!).’

I collect my Nokia and jump back into the driver’s seat, just in time; as, in spite of all the acting with the stalling and stuttering, DD’s now revving it up! Why she’s now so keen,  I have no idea. If I don’t want to return to the day job, then neither should she. Still, all she has to do, whilst I’m being zapped of all strength, is to sit in the staff carpark under the shade of a beautiful tree. So lazy is she, that she doesn’t even attempt to swipe away any nasty bird droppings.

The day may not have started so well, i.e. I had to get up at 6am, but, nonetheless, I bounce into work full of zing, knowing that I can do this!

Only three months to go, before I give the day job up for good (until, and if, I run out of funds (i.e. read my book reviews** and buy, buy, buy!)).

The day ends.

DD awaits. She’s appreciated.

My bounce is dead.

I’m all people-politicked out. By the time DD gets me home, the old voice of anxiety has wormed its way back into my life. Why do I feel so bad? Did the day job do this, or can I blame the cloud cover and rainfall?

Yesterday, I blogged about tutus, roundabouts and flowers. This evening, I feel like a no-hoper and, even worse, Hubby’s turned the TV on to watch Love Island. Great expanses of glossy flesh and not a single contestant who can construct a sentence without the compulsive inclusion of a ‘like’ or a ‘f**k’!

What is going on? Hubby must be having an old-life crisis! Never before, like, have I known him to put the TV on, like, to deliberately, watch a ******* load of twaddle!

Newsflash: The blonde one has introduced another word into her repertoire:

‘You seem so nice, like, know what I mean, like?’

Oddly enough, it’s time for a newsflash of my own:

I, Jay Cool, am nasty, and there is nothing at all to like about any of the irritatingly ‘nice’ load of sick-buckets swearing their hearts out on Loved-Up Island!

Haven’t they got day jobs to clear off to?

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, June 2019



*For anyone out there who has plop phobia, and who considers the whole loo thing to be rather juvenile, why did you read the rest of my blog? YOU DIDN’T? Well, go back and finish reading it then!

**Links to book reviews coming up:

Disclaimer: The links below click through to post that have links to Amazon, from whom I receive a small commission at no extra cost to yourself, should you choose to make a purchase.

Eating Pies: Book Reviews

Look at Zoos: Book Review

Hinch Yourself Happy: Book Review

Published by The Silly-Savvy Salopian

Freelance writer and descendant of the cave dweller and outlaw, Humphrey Kynaston. Banished from Shropshire for my eccentricity, I have made my home in Suffolk. I write poetry, short stories, travel journals, comedy gig reviews and non-fiction articles. My wish is to write my way back into the heart of my birth land. All writing commissions (and free holidays in Shropshire!) considered.

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