Love A Good Sleep In

9.24. 10.22. 11.25. They were the moments I cracked open an eye and looked at the clock next to my bed. I so meant to get up at 10.22, oh well. I love my days off. Ha, ha. 

Nobody should have to work 5 days per week, it's inhumane. Of course, I only worked 1 and a bit days this week, gotta luv that.

Still in my dressing gown at midday, makes me feel like one of those stay at home mums. I guess, I just need to get myself a valium habit to match.

Just enough time to look at a few dirty pictures on the net and then it will be time to check into my second job - go chat with my mum, take her out to lunch, take her shopping, maybe take her to a movie.

My CEO ask me the other day how my writing was going? Gulp? Actually, now I think about her, I had dreams about her all night. We were huddled under a blanket together in a long line of people watching Mad Max style races. Anyway, I've dragged out my novel and I'm going to make myself do some work on it... instead of looking at dirty pictures on the net.

Handsome in B&W

 

And we have a winner, I can see why. Batchelor of the Year. Yum. The only reason I watched the Golden Mile. Actually, the main girl was very good, too.

Yes, he is very bendy, as his partners soon find out

Ouch, That Fucken Hurts!

Ouch, That Fucken Hurts!

It was 9.30am and I hadn’t even finished reading my emails. Beck’s got the week off, so I was feeling pretty relaxed about it all, not that I really act or work any differently whether Beck is there or not. It just takes me back to the days when I was used to working on my own, was my own boss. This working with someone has its emotional drawbacks, or is that, this working with someone who is my boss has its emotional drawbacks? 

Suddenly, I got a shooting pain in my back, lower left side. I headed to the toilet, where the pain increased to a level where I didn’t think I was going to survive it, to a point that I momentarily wondered if I needed an ambulance and wondered how I was going to make it out of the cubicle. Was I going to call out help the next time I heard someone come in? I felt hot, I sweated profusely, I felt like all of my pores where standing up in hard Goosebumps. My mouth went dry, I felt like I was going to be sick. Then I was sick. Twice. Eventually, what seemed like an hour, probably just ten minutes, or so, the pain subsided and I tentatively headed to the sinks. I looked like a corpse in the mirror, all the colour had drained out of my face.

I headed home.

And while the pain subsided, it didn’t disappear completely, it remained as a low level ache. Later, in the afternoon, around 3pm, it started to become more painful again. I tried lying on the floor in the lounge room, but I started to shiver. The day was cold. I built a fire, but the pain got worse. So, I changed my clothes and headed to Emergency at St Vincent’s.

There, actually, weren’t that many people waiting ahead of me, two, or three. By the time I got to the Triage nurse, the pain had gone.

So, I only had to wait half an hour, or so, to begin with.

There were all the people coming in for Steven Wong, who was on his last breath in one of the rooms. At some point in the three hours I was there, there was a code blue in emergency and I thought of Steven and whispered goodbye.

There was the cute Indian/Sri Lankan boy who’d injured his foot, whose hot mate kept making eyes at me. Okay, he looked at me a couple of times and it may have been wishful thinking on my part, but I’m sure I’ve seen him at 80. You should have seen his arse in his tight, black track suit pants. Woof! There was the nice middle aged couple from the bush, the husband of which had cancer. It seemed so sad, they had the rest of their lives together, just when they were probably free to enjoy it. The sad expressions on their faces were quietly devastating. The triage nurse called him brave. There was the nuff nuff guy who had swallowed some poisonous chemical to prove it wasn’t harmful to him, who’d been brought in by his employer who was worried about some liability, no doubt.

There was the sexy Turkish boy, who was just in the waiting room, who looked like he had a fist in his jeans, who had a beanie pulled down over his handsome face.

I told the triage nurse my story. She took all my details, most of which she had from my infected elbow a few years ago. I pissed in a plastic jar which the nurse was going to test after she had seen to those who were waiting, all two of them, by that stage. She wanted me to stay to see the doctor, but I was keen to go, so the urine test was somehow the compromise. Waiting was the old queen who was just in for attention, I’m sure. And the young blond woman who cried as she spoke to the nurse, who leant through and held her hand and told her it would be all okay. And finally she was off to test my urine.

The lovely old Asian couple came in and sat with me, smiling when I said I had already been seen to and that they were next.

Then there was the ranga bitch who pushed in saying she suffered from asthma and was having trouble breathing, who was told she would be seen straight away, who then got on her mobile phone and chattered to three different people while she was waiting. Fuck you lady, I thought, you’re not having too many breathing difficulties, you’re in a hospital now, you can get in line. I’m getting my results before you, if you can yabber away on your mobile phone, I’ve been here for three hours.

But, the triage nurse saw me first. There was a small amount of blood in my urine, but as the pain had gone, they let me go.

I should have stood up for the cute old couple who were really next, I thought, as I headed out into the day. Some people, I thought.

 

All that gorgeous, black curly hair to run through your fingers

Just lie back, I will do the rest

Cheeky, funny and a really nice guy

Of Human Bondage

Stuart came around early and rolled joints, lovely Stuart, before he and Shane headed out.

My car was playing up yesterday afternoon and I was going to take it for a drive today to see if it still has something wrong, but, now I don't care. No, really, I don't. (The world would be a much more relaxed place if more people smoked dope, lets face it)

So, I'm watching Of Human Bondage. 1935, I think. Black and white and grainy. Some movie critics I have read, have said, that Bette Davis' performance is the greatest piece of acting by a woman ever caught on film. Apparently, it is widely accepted now that Bette should have received an Academy Award for this performance. I think now if you look up the Academy Awards for that years, her performance in this film is acknowledged.

Lazy afternoon, what else is there to do? I ask you?

The greatest actress to have ever lived, some say. It is accepted that she and Katherine Hepburn are the two great actresses. Katherine Hepburn won 4 Academy Awards. Bette won 3 Academy Awards, she should have won five. She should hold the record.

Socks, track suit pants, the sun shining in through the window. Coffee.

The promise of more joints, once Shane and Stuart come home from their lunch with a Jewish princess friend of Stuarts.

I just need grapes.

How gay is that? Should I feel like a poofter looser lying on the couch with just a dead actress as a friend? … it crossed my mind. Lovely to relax without feeling like I should be doing something. Being busy, it’s a busy old world, huh? Go, go, go! Rah, rah, be out, be seen, be fabulous, be someone.

What is it… affluenza?

Consume until it hurts, honey.

Not me babe. Push play on the remote. 

"It made me sick when I had to let you kiss me. I only kissed you because you begged me. And after you kissed me I always used to wipe my mouth, “WIPE MY MOUTH.”

Hand in the chip bowl…

Yes, come over, I will be waiting for you to get here

I Think The Current Laws Lead To The Inevitable Outcome

I don’t know, maybe I’m a bit weird, but I don’t see that Carl Williams did anything too wrong. Oh, I mean, of course there were the killings, the bashings and the violence, but, you know, there never were any innocents rubbed out, bashed or hurt. Pretty much everyone who was killed was up for it, by the very nature of the life styles they chose to live. You know, live by the sword, die by the sword.

It could be seen as a public service the way society’s attitudes are moving. The general public now think that judges are soft on criminals, that thugs are getting too shorter sentences, that we are all in danger because the crims are getting an easy ride, so why shouldn’t those people who hold these views applaud Carl and his cleaning gang. No doubts that society is a safer place because of them.

There were the meth labs, but you know, it’s all just a construct to ease the control of society. We, as society members, have to forgo certain of life’s pleasures, so that politicians can be re-elected and the police can have more leisure time. Pretty soon, policing will just be reduced to road cameras and CCV TV.

Because, pretty much, drug dealers are selling to a willing customer base. Can you think of another crime where all of the participants are willing and happy?

Yes, of course there are a few exceptions.

Oh yes, the children? We all know that if drugs were legalised and treated as a health issue, when needed, instead of a criminal issue, every child’s head would explode, but think of the police man power, if the only crime they had to police was selling to minors. The police are never going to win, human beings have taken drugs ever since the first caveman scraped the skin of a berry from the Pitchirich Tree and sucked at the sap and they are not going to stop any time soon.

Unsolvable problem being, human beings like drugs too much.

Why don’t we just get real about it and treat it with harm minimisation strategies instead of prohibition, which, I’m sorry, has never worked. I’m sure there is a good argument to be made that prohibition, actually, has caused the mess that we have now.

Let’s try a new approach, let’s take the crime out of it and see what happens.

Go Robbie, Go!

Mark and Luke came down, Luke cooked dinner. Meat and chickpeas and tandoori chicken and saffron rice with nuts and spices. The desert was magnificent, stuffed peaches with pomegranate seeds and pasticcio nuts. It was all amazing.

David came over and regaled us with a story of how he has fallen out with one of his richest clients. We all turned a little, as we do with David. Essentially, he invited the client’s sister, who she doesn’t like, to participate in a retreat he was holding and the rich client turned. We all told David it was his fault, he protested.

Shane and Simon too, Simon rolled joints. Lovely Simon. 

We watched the final of So You Think You can Dance.

Go Robbie go! He was the crowd favourite. It was unanimous.

No cigarettes today, joint substitutes. Shrug.

Oh, those beautiful eyes

He had beautiful eyes, everyone thought so

Dreams

I had the strangest dreams last night. I went to visit my mother and she had turned into, um... oh... how do I describe her... an asexual, foppish, insane devil – a cross between the prime minister’s secretary on Little Britain and Jack Nicolson’s Joker. Every wall in her house was covered in clothes on hangers billowing, giving a sort of curtain effect throughout the house. Every one of her possessions were there, but they had been somehow changed and made different and they were strewn all threw the house.

"Yes, I've done a little redecorating," she/he said.

She has a portrait of me painted as a kid, it had somehow been turned into a neon, flashing sign, the type you'd see in a casino. The house was jam packed full of stuff, over flowing out into the garden. It was a mess, a labyrinth of darkness.

It was like a bizarre, carnival hell.

She/he walked me through the house becoming more and more threatening, more and more condemning of my behaviour, more and more angry. I think it was the first dream ever, certainly that I can remember, where I felt in danger.

I woke with a start and lay there at 5am thinking that that dream was the work of a truly disturbed mind.

I must have fallen back asleep, because then I dreamed I was in a crowded bar. I was standing in the queue waiting to get a drink when Billy Joel walked in. He smiled and said hello and kept walking. I got my drink when Mark walked up to me and said, "Come on, you've got to go."

"Got to go where?"

"You're on in fifteen minutes."

"On where?"

"Singing with Billy."

"I'm what?"

"Your show is about to start."

"What do you mean?"

"You and Billy Joel." Mark looked incredulous. "What is wrong with you?"

"I just saw him..."

"Yes, he said he saw you. Come on."

"Why am I singing with Billy Joel?"

"Because he liked you singing with him so much the last time, he wants you to sing again. What is wrong with you?"

"But, I don't know the songs."

"Yes you do. Come on."

"I don't... know the words."

"You're just nervous, you'll remember once you are up on stage."

Then Mark and I were pushing through the crowd. I could see the stage lights coming closer.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the loud speakers roared. "Please put your hands together for Billy Joel." Thunderous applause. "With his very special guest Christian Fletcher...."

Why Billy Joel, I have no idea.

Sun and Sex

The day started off with Stuart rolling joints. I was riding over to my mum’s, he was going to the gym and Shane had shopping and an appointment with a water massage person, mumbling something about not wanting to drown. Pussy! But Stuart, he was keen to have a second and a third.

I headed off on my bike. It was a beautiful day, the summer seems to have returned once more. I'm exercising every second day and joints, or not, I was going to ride my bike. When Shane questioned my determination, I replied, that I could have a gentle ride in the sun, being dope effected, rather than riding hard. Having said that, I rode like a mad thing up all the hills and was pooped when I finally got to the Toorak Road hill, which I walked for the first time ever. There was an old woman in support stockings walking a Jack Russell moving faster than me up ahead.

I've eradicated all sweeties from my diet and am having fruit, namely apples, as snacks in between. I've jogged and ridden my bike regularly and my suit pants no longer feel tight on me. That's my fat indicator, the suit pants test.

It's funny, all the girls still say I am not fat and can't understand what I'm talking about and all the boys, read gay friends, say keep at it, you'll get there.

Just as I got to mums, she was waiting outside for a friend to come pick her up, two days early. She goes Mondays. She's not getting any better. I cooked her scrambled eggs. We chatted again about her continuing to live on her own.

I was home by 5pm and settled into wasting my life looking at internet porn. An hour, or so later, just as it was getting dark, I decided instead of staring at a computer screen, hand pumping, I could head out and meet someone in the flesh.

I got to Club 80 around 7pm, and it was, pretty much, empty. Too early, I thought. I had coffee and watched a stupid movie about a country town in America being terrorised by, what could be best described as, a pterodactyl. Oh, give me strength.

So, off I went after the hot Asian boy, who we will call white boy, who, as much as I tried, didn’t seem to be interested in me. So, I was hanging by the side in the upstairs, when this Islander boy came along. He wasn’t really my type, but he slid up next to me and started to gently run his finger nails along my arms, which felt nice. We cuddled, he was such a cuddle monster and he felt good and smelt nice. You know, sometimes I think that is how I want all sex to start off, gentle intimacy. But, of course, he wanted to go to a room and I didn’t and from then on he was always appearing next to me. I liked kissing him, he had big, soft lips and stroking him, but I didn’t want to do any more with him than that.

I was still after white boy and by then red boy – both the colours of their t-shirts. So at one persistent moment with cuddle boy, I said let’s go over to a dark corner and have a cigarette, you know, just to break the tension, nicely.

“You can’t smoke in here,” said cuddle boy.

“Oh, you can.” Well, not technically, but I don’t think anyone cares. Maybe they have to look as though they do, being indoors and all and the current smoking laws being what they are.

Now we hadn’t been in the dark alcove for long when, guess who, white boy comes in next to us with some other guy following, who proceeded to go down on him enthusiastically.

Now, I’m not sure what that said – of all the gin joints in the world and all that – but it was distracting. So, I left cuddle boy and headed off.

Not long after, I picked up red boy, who was really very lovely, sweet, unaffected, easy to chat to, dark curly hair, great smile. He was keen to get his... um... er... what's the opposite of end in?... and when he did he was enthusiastic and keen. He was taller than me, which isn't my preferred combination, shorter legs, longer legs, but, you know, you just keep pushing them down.

I was home by midnight.

Icelandic volcano

Icelandic volcano

Wedding Bells

I escorted my good friend Jill to a wedding, she didn't have anyone to go with. It was a beautiful setting on Albert Park Lake, at the famous Carousel Restaurant, the view back to Queens Road and the city was spectacular.

Weddings are funny, they are interchangeable, all the same things happen, they all flow in exactly the same way. The best man who was a woman, was very funny, as were the bride and groom, all gave great speeches.

The other funny thing was all of Jill’s girlfriends who we met up with, four to be exact, all had "male friends" accompanying them, none were their boyfriends or husbands or significant other half. The boys were cute, don't think I minded Greek Theo rolling me cigarettes – ah yes, smoking, oops – all night. He had beautiful eyes and a come hither look when he turned to me and said, “Would you like another rollie?” with a great, cheeky, smile.

The bride was beautiful – I have, actually, met her before – the groom was handsome, the night sparkling and warm.

We danced, we laughed, we drank lots of red wine. Who'd have thought a good time could be had at a, relative, strangers wedding.

Just so beautiful, what else can we say

Subtle Homophobia

Don't you hate the subtle forms of homophobia, the ones that will take another few generations to eradicate?

Why should gay sex be nasty and scary? Why should it be referred as such?

It's the kind of subtle reference to "us" being anything but normal that we have to deal with every day, which straight people will, probably, never see, or understand. It's fascinating really, not in a good way, of course.

Besides, the straight boys I’ve had sex with have neither found it nasty or scary.

When O.J. Simpson was sent to jail for armed robbery there were plenty of people cracking jokes about dropping the soap. 

Well, it turns out the former footballer is Mr Popular with the gay crowd at Nevada's Lovelock Correctional Center — and we mean that literally, not in the nasty scary way! 

A former prisoner tells National Enquirer that O.J. is practically worshipped by a group of starstruck gay prisoners known as 'The Girls', who have given him the affectionate nickname 'Daddy Juice'. 

"O.J. may be a pariah on the outside, but in prison, he's still a somebody," says the prisoner. "He's really tight with 'The Girls.' Whenever we'd be let out to the yard, O.J. would almost always hang out with them. The 'girls' treated him like he was a king." 

King of the queens!

Ticket Inspectors

Ticket inspectors on the tram. Run all you non ticket buyers, can’t you see, head to the exits, flee.

Grey coats like the Third Reich, badges at the ready, they try to be nice, warm, friendly, but...

One talks on a phone, one points to a hazardous bag strap on the floor, one smiles and watches

and nobody heads to the exits, nobody flees when they have the chance, is this honesty, I see? 

“Hello, good morning. Could you have your tickets ready?”

I hand mine over sideways, expressionless, cold.

I remember in the beginning of ticket inspectors the disgraceful behaviour I witnessed,

people bullied and harassed and removed from trams in head locks, belittled, put down, fascist.

“Thank you.”

I grunt, no smile. Despite it being years later, you will never win me back.

They point in code with each other, call first names and then they all exit, like a black cloud, a swarm. Gone.

Do Chicks Flirt?

Do chicks flirt? You know, with dirty talk? I guess they do, but it's not something I recognise immediately, you understand. It feels so weird when chicks do, like it's just wrong.

I went up to introduce myself to the new HR chick and to explain a spread sheet I’d prepared for her. We were looking at her computer screen and I said,

“I can’t see it without my glasses, it’s too small.”

“I bet you have a big one...” she said. She smiled.

I looked at her computer screen to try and mentally compare it with mine.

“...being... um... so close to technology and all,” she said. She smiled and held my gaze.

What are we talking about, I thought? A chill ran up my spine.

Brrr! Winter. Time To Break Out The Long Johns... Or Is That, Time To Break Him Out Of His Long Johns?

What Can You say?

Saturday Arvo

Saturday arvo

Mark came over yesterday and hung out for the afternoon. We sat on the couch like boyfriends do, like we used to and smoked pot with Shane and Stuart. It's funny, on those occasions, it doesn't seem like any time has passed.

Stuart said, It was clear Mark and I have known each other for a long time. You seem like boyfriends, he said.

Mark and I smiled at each other, knowingly. The look of having known each other well.

Funny the things people say.

"YAAAAA!"

Off to the dentist, yesterday first thing, to see big gay Martin. Yay! I had my teeth cleaned, in the constant battle to save my gums. And, boy do I know about it this morning, when I chew my museli for the first time when the nerve endings, on three teeth, jump out at me, like the animated horn in a cartoon when our hero feels pain. WARRRR!!!!!

They settle down in a couple of days.

Hey Ravi

 Ravi called, he wanted to know what happened to us? He says he misses me.

I told him straight, that he was too hard to organise, that he never seemed to catch up when I could and that he seemed to work every weekend.

He said he was sorry for just thinking about himself. He wants to reconnect, with the bond we had, he says he wants to get together.

You know, Ravi has a really nice... oh, I guess I shouldn't say that. It's just that it's really handsome, thick, good to hold. Good flesh on it, nice curve. I miss that about him. I guess, I should miss him for other reasons?

He's gone to Thailand. I did ask him if he thought it was the wisest of holiday destinations, but he said he just had to get away.

At 18, he was everybody's little brother

I've Been Listening To "Hotel California"

On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair

Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air

Up ahead in the distance, I saw shimmering light

My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim

I had to stop for the night

There she stood in the doorway;

I heard the mission bell

And I was thinking to myself,

'This could be Heaven or this could be Hell'

Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way

There were voices down the corridor,

I thought I heard them say...

Welcome to the Hotel California

Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place)

Such a lovely face

Plenty of room at the Hotel California

Any time of year (Any time of year)

You can find it here

Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes bends

She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys she calls friends

How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.

Some dance to remember, some dance to forget

So I called up the Captain,

'Please bring me my wine'

He said, 'We haven't had that spirit here since nineteen sixty nine'

And still those voices are calling from far away,

Wake you up in the middle of the night

Just to hear them say...

Welcome to the Hotel California

Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place)

Such a lovely face

They livin' it up at the Hotel California

What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise)

Bring your alibis

Mirrors on the ceiling,

The pink champagne on ice

And she said 'We are all just prisoners here, of our own device'

And in the master's chambers,

They gathered for the feast

They stab it with their steely knives,

But they just can't kill the beast

Last thing I remember, I was

Running for the door

I had to find the passage back

To the place I was before

'Relax,' said the night man,

'We are programmed to receive.

You can check-out any time you like,

But you can never leave!'

 

Don't You Love A Guy Who Can Fill A Pair Of Jocks.

You Know, that round, heavy bulge that feels so good in your hand

What Do You Reckon?

Do you think all men, straight or gay, would suck cock, if they could get their own cocks in their mouths?

Seriously? You answered no to that question? Who are you kidding. Straight, or gay, they would be sucking their own cocks as often as they use their hand. And how often do you think the average guy uses his hand? Oh, come on, not in how many days, but how often per day, would be closer than the mark. So, that is an awful lot of sucked cocks.

So, what does that make them?

He took off his shirt, he hung his red tie around his neck, but all you could see was those lips

He was a long haired surfer boy, with a sharks tooth around his neck, who you picked up on the beach as the sun went down at the end of the day

Now I Lay My Head Down to Sleep

Annihilated! Happily so. There was Peter, a country boy what’s more. He was good. I was good. And everyone left with a smile on their face.

Well, what’s a boy to do when he finds himself home alone on Easter Saturday? I ask you? Back to the house of many steps and corridors.

Peter’s friend, who found himself spending a few hours waiting, wasn’t so happy. He tried to smile and make light of it, but the cracks were obvious.

Ah well, I guess that’s life, winners and losers. I say loser with the nicest possible connotation, you understand. I’ve been that friend waiting, it’s not fun.

Ah. Yawn. I’ll sleep well.

In The Dark

Hairy balls, hairy pubes, hairy arse, hairy stomach, hairy chest. Puppy dog eyes. he’s quite a surprise.

Foreskin. Full of spoof, of which he's real happy to be relieved. And he looks cute as you give him a hand, looking up at your eyes, looking down at your hand. He breathes heavy and moans. He talks to you as you jack him off, tells you how it feels, what you’re doing to him. 

“Yeah, that feels good,” he says. “Yeah, oh, just like that.” I love that.  

He shakes when he cums. His spoof invariably gets caught up in the hair on his legs. I've usually always got to wash him afterwards. He's compliant under the hot water, like a big doll, I can bend him anyway I like.

Now that he's in his early twenties, he's filled right out into being a man.

 

Your best mate's little brother just turned 18

Happy Holiday

I did meth. Shane kind of sprung it on me. He and his charming new boyfriend, the lovely blond Stuart, were going to partake.

“Come one. It’s Easter,” said Shane. Oh yes, I know, Nancy Reagan, I could have just said no, but it’s less fattening than chocolate eggs. 

Shane’s got a new dealer, apparently, it’s now mum dad and the kids in the burbs supplementing their income in these tough, financial times. Shane had to get out the street directory to find where he was going, which is not that surprising for him, as he was a country boy who has had little need to leave the inner suburbs since he landed from Central Victoria, however many years ago it was.

I haven't slept. I spent the night hanging at the sex on prem club. I turned down the first 3 offers I got, as they were right after I got there and I do like a settling in period in the first hour. 

Then it was a lot of walking from there. I find that walking becomes addictive, after a while, slipping through the chasms and tunnels in the dark, watching the punters sliding in and out of the shadows in varying stages of undress. 

There was the usual body lying arse up in an open-doored cubicle on offer for all cummers, he got quite a lot of trade throughout the evening.  

There was a hot young Asian boy who got banged very publicly by a daddy type with an enormous shlong in the basement. He put up a good fight. 

The usual girlie twink who wanted to share the evening with me, who never quite got the hint. 

The really hot leather boy in chaps walking around masturbating furiously, who was hot and just a little scary in equal measures, who kept trying to drag me into a cubicle. He was trying to drag everyone under forty into a cubicle , so it was no compliment really. 

I think he’d had more than 2 points in the middle of all that somewhere.

There was the usual guy who I would have done, who I was trying to do, who I kept losing on the corners.

I had two nice boys, though, which were more sensual than slammin, as I was quite a bit more ripped than horny – 2 points of crystal will do that to you – but I gave it a go. 

I was more into the walking and the looking, not in a creepy way, more in a can’t stay still kind of way. The horn came later, you know, twelve hours later, I should have got take away.

Now, I feel like crap. (For the kiddies who are reading this, this is the part they should take notice of. [apparently, we have to say that]) Well, not so much crap as tired and a little sideways. Peaked. 

Happy Easter.

But I didn't eat any chocolate, stuck to my diet, which, I guess, wasn't such a stretch as I haven't eaten anything, really.

Don't you just want to slide a finger into that?

Makes A Change To Eating Muesli On My Day Off

My, my, my, Cafe Scone toast, date and caramel! Yum! fucken yum! I'm not sure of the calories, but who cares! It's Bloody Good!

A short time later...

Nutrition Facts

Tip Top – Cafe Scone Toast – Date & Caramel

Per slice

*Percent Daily Values are based on a 2,000 calorie diet. Your daily values may be higher or lower depending on your calorie needs.

I had 4 slices, with coffee and orange juice.

How many calories is that?

I wonder how many a bowl of muesli is?

I should go buy those new running shoes today, anyway.

Five days off! Ha, ha!