So this morning started with some weird dreams which thankfully I didn’t remember. It was actually a really nice sunny but cold day. So I took the dogs up to the field in Almondsbury and they had a good run around off lead. We popped into the vets on the way back and picked up some flee flee and wormy wormy.

Came back and had lunch, then I headed out to B&Q and got some paint for the skirting boards and stain for the patio door. Picked up from crickets, walked into town and bought a shirt. Popped into mothers and dropped off the curtains and gave her six bottles of red.

She then left me a message on my phone to say that she didn’t have the right colour cotton for them and would have to go all the way to John Lewis. Now this slightly annoyed me a bit…I’ve given her about fifty quids worth of wine for taking up a couple of pairs of curtains three inches.

Now for some reason this triggered a couple of really bad memories. Call me an ungrateful bitch if you want, but fuck you, here we go. Lets go back thirty years. I was eleven. PE. Okay, I wasn’t the most athletic kid in school, but I did used to enjoy it, I especially liked basketball. Anyway, I was wearing a pair of white daps that I had inherited from my sister. For PE, I required some white sports socks. I asked mother for some, she said that they were too expensive and I couldn’t have any. But we went to a weird shop in Coldharbour Road, which sold weird shit. There she bought me a pair of girls laced socks and said ‘ah nobody will notice’. Jesus fucking christ, I was eleven, do you think that I wouldn’t be beaten to shit for wearing some girls laced socks. I never wore them, I would have been fucking killed. I just went bear footed, which caused my feet to be completely sore after every PE session. In the end I actually stole a pair of socks out of lost property. I kept these secret and washed them by hand for five years. All because my bitch mother wouldn’t spend a couple of quid on some white sports socks. I was also the only kid that never had any trainers, I felt like a real third world outcast.

And while we are at it, here’s another one. I was very good at rugby. I enjoyed it. It was fairly tactical, so it not only required brawn, it required brains as well. And each type had their own positions. I was asked several times by the school to join the school team as one of the ‘backs’, as I had good tactical skills and could outrun anyone. I always refused, as I knew I would only get the piss taken out of me by my parents. It was always the case that if rugby was mentioned, it was always, “Oh Tim is good at rugby, they use him as the ball”, hahahha, fucking bitches. If there was ever a school for making someone feel very small and insecure, you would be the masters of it. I never did play for the school team. I also never played for the school basketball team, I wasn’t allowed as apparently my shoes were a bit of an embarrassment, but the PE teacher did offer to buy me some! Meanwhile, mother was treating herself to everything available from Gratton, Burlington, Great Universal and Empire Stores.

So if you have kids folks, and they are vaguely interested in any kind of school sports, give them every kind of support you can give. And I don’t mean spend your time on the sidelines swearing at all the other kids. I mean give up buying yet another dress you’ll never wear and buy the kid some trainers that won’t embarrass the shit out of them.

Am I bitter? Yes I fucking am. Is it justified? Well the older I get, I find the more I’m mentally affected by it all. It will come to a point where it will become intolerable. Then it will be a case of her or me. It sounds really bad, but there is only one point when I truly will be free. Somehow at the moment she is still in control, this is tearing me from the inside.

This evening we went out with some of Jamie’s Tesco friends. We went to the Italian and ate turkey which was rather strange. It was a good evening though.

Oh the spoons thing. Yes, in St. Nick’s market there was a probably homeless man with a radio, who was playing the spoons to a radio, it was rather bizarre and rather fascinating at the same time.