Saving One’s Bacon

Post CCLIV

Here’s the story of goodness, aggression, and pockets.

I’m not going to pretend that I’m the sharpest tool in the box, but even I was dumfounded to discover the existence of extra pockets in my favourite jacket. I’ve had it for six years – I never take it off. Yet I discovered this week the existence of some secret pockets behind the main pockets. I can’t believe it! I’ve been wishing I had extra pockets for years and suddenly I find some extra pockets. I like it when little things like that happen. I’m easily amused, is my point. It was a little ray of sunshine that came at the end of a miserable day full of coughing, ulcer pain, more coughing, lots of swearing and shouting at me, a homeless man attacking me, and… erm, oh, my hayfever is back. We had snow last week. Now it’s a barmy 25. Still, I’m not complaining. Always look on the bright side of life, is my motto. I mean, extra pockets! Two of them! Yippee-ki-yay!

While I think on, readers, I should say that my motto in life is actually, ‘Bacon and sausages are better than sex.’ I mean, I haven’t had sex yet, but I’d imagine bacon is surely the zenith of life. Now, you may think one could combine the two, but I’ve been led to believe that sex on a full stomach is no different to swimming on a full stomach. That said, I can’t swim, so the result of me swimming on an empty stomach versus me swimming on a full stomach is about the same. Drowning on both accounts. Still, if someone threw so little as one slice of bacon into a lake, I’m diving in to fetch it regardless of my inability to swim. It’s how I’d like to remembered. Died literally trying to save his bacon…

Now, you already know about my cough and my ulcer. Both are still being complete and utter bastards. That ulcer is ruining my life, by the way. Everything I eat and drink is packed to the rafters with sugar and salt. Crisps. Chocolate. Biscuits. Meat. Tea. Even the healthy stuff I manage to ‘unhealthify’. Look at pasta. I cake mine in layers upon layers of cheese. And my Weetabix is also covered with an unhealthy dolloping of sugar. Well, you know what my second motto in life is, readers. ‘Tis better to die young and full of bacon than old and full of salad. I could live to 70 eating nothing but salad, but only 30 eating nothing but bacon. But I know which version of me would be far happier. You only live once, readers. Unless you’re a cat. Or Dave, but that’s another story…

There’s something going around, readers. Some virus or another. Everywhere you go and every building you go in. People coughing and spluttering. People in their hundreds with chest infections. On Friday, there was a young girl on the bus I was on. Threw up everywhere. Bless her. She tried to hold it in and ran to the front of the bus to ask the driver to stop but… oh, God, I’m reliving it. Right where the only door was as well. Had to go right through it to get off the bus. I mean, the decent thing to say would be what the driver said. “It’s alright, flower, don’t worry, it’s not your fault – don’t worry about it at all.” But what I was thinking was rather different. ‘Oh, for – could you not have stayed in bed this morning, love? Jesus Christ, open a bloody window, I’m dying here…’

Yes, northerners really do refer to one another as ‘flower’ and ‘love’. Even strangers. We’re very friendly. Petal, too. Chuck. Don’t get that one, really. Darl or darling. Honey. Sweetheart. If you come to the north, don’t be offended. ‘Sweetheart’ might sound like it’s from the ‘30s, but we mean it with the utmost affection and respect. For example, “Oh God, sweetheart, why did you throw up on a bus full of people!”

Not that I’m angry about it or anything…

I do wonder what is going around the population at the moment. I’m having awful visions of every zombie movie ever, though. And I am not prepared for a zombie apocalypse. I’m the one who’d run away screaming and would probably be dead rather sharpish.

As for the shouting and swearing that I mentioned earlier, I don’t know what to tell you readers. Something really bad just happened to me and I wasn’t in the best of moods. And when I’m not in the best of moods, you really don’t want to talk to me. Avoid me like the plague, which is probably what’s going around at the moment. Not to alarm any Brits reading, of course, but I think we’re all gonna die…

As for the shouting and swearing, I think some kids wanted their ball back. Since I was in a mood, I ignored them. You could say it was wrong but as I’ve mentioned time and time again, I don’t really like kids. One of my neighbour’s kids this week threw one of those love heart candy sweets at my window. Quite a few. No idea why. I’m having a bad week, guys. He’s just a little bastard. One almost hit me. I had the window open, by the way. I’m not talking about some superhuman child who has the ability to throw candy so hard it shatters glass. Thank heavens, I must add.

I got called the usual names and insults. ‘What a nob’ was quite common. ‘Cheers, you dickhead’ I also heard. I think it was sarcastic, but since I’m an optimistic fella, I’ll take it literally. ‘Cheers’, or ‘thank you’, ‘you dickhead’. I mean, the English swear at each other all the time so I’m fine with that last bit. As one American comedian once said, “The first week I was in Britain, one of my British friends introduced me to one of his friends. He said, ‘This is Pete, what a dickhead he is!’ I thought, ‘Why would say that about your friend!’” I don’t think Americans get our dry wit. It’s what we call our mates. Everything offensive under the Sun. Oh, we don’t mean it? No, we do…

I suppose I now have to talk about the homeless fella. I don’t really want to. I’m nearly 26. I haven’t been in a fight or attacked since I was in secondary school. I was walking through the town and this young shaggy lunatic starts talking to me. He sounded drunk. Clearly had some problems. I was trying to cross the road whilst he was banging on about how society has failed him. Oh, boy. I was watching for traffic to try to cross, but he was insulted. He thought I was ignoring him. “You’re just as bad as all the voices! You posh bastards! You don’t care about us! The homeless and the needy! You won’t help us! Nobody will!” That went on for a while. Looked to me like a cross between a really bad drug trip and a psychotic break. Lots of swearing and shouting. And then he pushed me! Right to the ground. I was well winded. Then the threats to kill me came. And my family. And hunt me down, skin me, gut me and wear me like a fur coat also cropped up. Well, all this was new on me. I didn’t know how to react.

I left him to his mad ramblings. “I’m gonna hunt you down and beat you to death.” He didn’t follow me, so how a homeless man has the resources to figure out where I live is a bit amusing. I was shaken a bit. More angry than anything. I didn’t want to bother the police with it or anything. I’m sure he’s known to them. I don’t hate him though.

I’m not going to sit here and pretend that I can understand what he’s going through or that it’s an excuse for his behaviour. I can’t forgive him for the abuse he hurled at me. What would the police do with him? Lock him up. He needs help. A lot of help. And all I did was run away because I was scared. I’m sure there’s a flicker of good in him somewhere. There is in all of us. You just have to find it.

So I apologise to the kids on one side of a fence that I, on the other, didn’t give them their ball back. Wherever the good is in me it vanished, and that was wrong. But I do forgive them for hurling all that abuse at me. I was asking for it, really.

I had a bad day. But when I got home, do you know what happened? I found out that I’m gonna be an uncle. For the third time. Oh God, three of the little terrors. And that made everything better again. Not great, but better.

And then I discovered my extra pockets, readers…

Extra bloody pockets! It’s a bloody miracle!

Now all I need is some bacon and I’ll be in ecstasy…

South African social rights activist and retired Anglican bishop, Desmond Tutu (b. 1931), once said: “Do your little bit of good where you are; it’s those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.”

Peace Out :|:


I’d love to hear your thoughts on this post. You can leave a comment and/or like this post below, or by clicking the title on the top of this post if you are on the ‘Archives’ page. Likes and follows greatly appreciated. Thanks.


Please feel free check out the latest posts from my other two blogs:

To Contrive & Jive
New Posts Every Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday
Click Here to Read the Latest Post

Hark Around the Words
New Post Every Sunday
Click Here to Read the Latest Post


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