Textually, shabbily, poison-free
Barton is a restless town this evening. For many people, tomorrow will see a return to real-life routine. In contrast, behind me, a cat sleeps: a furry vision of restfulness.
A late start to the day began with my receipt of a dramatic text message (D.T.M.) - quite the thing for neutralising a relaxing bath. Scottish Dave - a pal from 15 miles west who'd returned to the Midlands (having graduated from here in 2000) for a year of teacher-training did spake: "I AM THINKING OF LEAVING AND GOING BACK TO SCOTS". Initially I was gutted. I knew that he'd been at a social loose end - but at the same time he hadn't shown willing to make an effort to embed in the 'broader community' - neither in terms of creative outgoingness or uptake of gentle suggestions. Whilst initial instinct was to don cape and play superhero instead I offered self as an available chat-zone should he wish to travel over and... chat - here in Barton. He wasn't in the mood for talking. Not an ideal response I thought - as what was the point of the D.T.M. Then, I wondered whether the quick response to D.T.M. had been enough to assuage some of that raw drama. He promised that he'd visit later in the week. I'll make no attempt to persuade him to stay (as I'll not be living his life for him), but I will invite him to consider the potentials of staying and leaving - I think his making a success of his return here would be good for 'globalising' him, wrote Shane The Unsorted!
Otherly, Bartonfolk will soon be able to purchase items from two bin-liners-worth of Wexford-wear that were handed over to a charity shop in town today. As I handed over said baggage the look of the assistant spoke these words unto me: "Bloody hell, judging by the state of today's attire boyo there can be little hope for what's in this bulky lot". I strode from the shop with all the elegance of a saintly fuel-provider - there'll be a red sweater glow in the Barton night sky tonight - and a good thing too.
Beyond the above it has been a generally good and on-task day. Feeling ready for what lies immediately ahead - more of the same - reading, frowning, eeking out words. And somehow, this evening, in pretending to be a vaguely contributing member of our happy little pseudo-family, I managed to avoid injuring or poisoning co-dweller Liz with my interpretation of pizza - a multi-cheesed highly decorative affair. What good fortune.
Tomorrow I will see Emma at the university, she sent me a message earlier saying that she and "the boy" (Alex, 3) had enjoyed an afternoon of playing cars, she hoped that today had been a good one for self and that maybe we could have lunch together tomorrow. All very sweet. I said that all was well here (despite my missing my traditional Bank Holiday football jaunt - finances) and that I would be glad to lunch.
Now, I return to the document that never sleeps. So, toodle pip, piddle toop, or even drooble flip - whatever takes your fancy.
A late start to the day began with my receipt of a dramatic text message (D.T.M.) - quite the thing for neutralising a relaxing bath. Scottish Dave - a pal from 15 miles west who'd returned to the Midlands (having graduated from here in 2000) for a year of teacher-training did spake: "I AM THINKING OF LEAVING AND GOING BACK TO SCOTS". Initially I was gutted. I knew that he'd been at a social loose end - but at the same time he hadn't shown willing to make an effort to embed in the 'broader community' - neither in terms of creative outgoingness or uptake of gentle suggestions. Whilst initial instinct was to don cape and play superhero instead I offered self as an available chat-zone should he wish to travel over and... chat - here in Barton. He wasn't in the mood for talking. Not an ideal response I thought - as what was the point of the D.T.M. Then, I wondered whether the quick response to D.T.M. had been enough to assuage some of that raw drama. He promised that he'd visit later in the week. I'll make no attempt to persuade him to stay (as I'll not be living his life for him), but I will invite him to consider the potentials of staying and leaving - I think his making a success of his return here would be good for 'globalising' him, wrote Shane The Unsorted!
Otherly, Bartonfolk will soon be able to purchase items from two bin-liners-worth of Wexford-wear that were handed over to a charity shop in town today. As I handed over said baggage the look of the assistant spoke these words unto me: "Bloody hell, judging by the state of today's attire boyo there can be little hope for what's in this bulky lot". I strode from the shop with all the elegance of a saintly fuel-provider - there'll be a red sweater glow in the Barton night sky tonight - and a good thing too.
Beyond the above it has been a generally good and on-task day. Feeling ready for what lies immediately ahead - more of the same - reading, frowning, eeking out words. And somehow, this evening, in pretending to be a vaguely contributing member of our happy little pseudo-family, I managed to avoid injuring or poisoning co-dweller Liz with my interpretation of pizza - a multi-cheesed highly decorative affair. What good fortune.
Tomorrow I will see Emma at the university, she sent me a message earlier saying that she and "the boy" (Alex, 3) had enjoyed an afternoon of playing cars, she hoped that today had been a good one for self and that maybe we could have lunch together tomorrow. All very sweet. I said that all was well here (despite my missing my traditional Bank Holiday football jaunt - finances) and that I would be glad to lunch.
Now, I return to the document that never sleeps. So, toodle pip, piddle toop, or even drooble flip - whatever takes your fancy.
posted by Shane @ 8:44 pm
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