Post XXXVII

‘I’m One of Those Unlucky People Who Had A Happy Childhood’, said Jonathan Coe.

Snow. That magical elixir that turns children into even more annoying versions of themselves. Those of you interested in the United Kingdom, especially those of you travelling here by plane, will no doubt have noticed all the hubbub about a light dusting of snow that cancelled half the flights in and out of Heathrow. You see, last year when we had a ridiculous amount of feet of snow, Heathrow was accused of acting too slowly, so this year, before it snowed, they cancelled half the flights. They don’t have this problem in Sweden. It wasn’t even that bad. I mean, okay, the southerners got a good foot of snow and a couple of feet over in the west in Cumbria, but here in the northeast, we sat smug in our measly one inch, if that, of snow. In fact, it only snowed in a few places in a few towns. Most places it wasn’t cold enough to snow so it fell as rain. You might be wondering why I’m so smug. Well, last year, the northeast was covered in around five feet of snow. We got, being northerners, no coverage on the news. I’m not kidding, during the worst of it, we got a five-minute mention about why none of us was going to work. Now the south is ‘covered’ in snow and it’s non-stop coverage. All we see around here in the national news is sob stories about how they’re struggling to cope. Well, I’m sorry if I’m finding sympathy hard to come by, right now. In any case, nobody should worry about all the cancellations to which started this rant. I mean, have you actually been to Heathrow? It’s the world’s worst airport. The reason Terminal 5 is called that is because by the time you eventually get there your last legs.

So, what was I doing whilst the ‘chaos’ rained down on very shores? I was still moving furniture and putting a table and four chairs together by myself. I followed all the instructions to the letter. I love following instructions. It’s a great thing to put in a lonely-hearts ad. I also love to build furniture in my spare time and then afterwards have a discussion about where it could be placed in a room. I also adore cooking and having long walks on the beach. I mean, I’m not much of a talker but I love to listen. And writing music about my soul just fills me with so much passion. Am I conveying sarcasm well here, because I think it’s going well.

We got new cabinets to replace the old ones as well as a new table. Dad and I had to lift the cabinets into place and screw on the handles. Then I was left to do the table. I was a little scared when I realized at the beginning of the day that that was going to be my day, primarily because I knew that I was destined to hurt myself. With a certain degree of inevitability, that happened. We had to lift these cabinets, those brutes, into place. Honestly, they weighed more than a flock of double basses. You can imagine, then, my screams as one of the cabinets landed on my toe. I was down but not out. Like a broken nail and a couple of lost pints of blood would stop me. I could barely walk, but I was back up and raring to go the next day.

The next day came. I could have spent the day with my foot up, but no, I had work to do. I’ve recently moved my room around for like the tenth time this year because, let’s face it, there’s not a lot to do other than the obvious when you’re not in work. Chasing geese to put little sombreros on them only fills up so much time. But I hadn’t moved any of the stuff on my walls. Those walls didn’t look right in my newly arranged pad, so I spent this day rearranging things. Remarkably, I didn’t hurt myself. Not to speak too soon, but I may have broken the cycle of hurt that seems to befall me every week. Even though I was putting up the stuff standing on a swivel chair.

I think I might be one of the unluckiest people in a comedic sense ever. I really wish those things wouldn’t happen to me. I’ve deliberately avoided all the painting that’s needs doing around here because I feared that somehow, the paint would end up encasing my head and I’d suffocate. Or that I’d get a facial infection, which my star signs said would happen this month. And I’m not making that up. With that terrifying prospect on the horizon, I think I need to talk more in this blog about the good things that happen to me throughout the week. So, this week – erm. Let’s see. Erm. Oh, heck. There must be something good that happened to me. Well, I suppose it was lucky my toe stopped bleeding before I, you know, died. Yes. That’ll do. Maybe something a bit better will happen next week. Maybe I’ll win the Nobel Peace Prize.

‘An unlucky person is one who falls on his back and breaks his nose’.

Peace Out :|:

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