I was going to write this yesterday….but couldn’t be bothered. So here I am, this is now day 4 of my isolation. For those of you who don’t know I am currently sat alone in my big empty uni house; for reasons beyond my control I found myself packing up two weeks early and being shipped back to Leeds. This in itself was a distressing 3 hour coach journey, lugging around a full suitcase, with no wheels (I refused to pay the £28 it would cost me on the train) Arriving back the heating was clicked on straight away, and I turned on every light i could find, apologies to my housemates; I slid the bolt across and settled in for 2 weeks of being a hobbit.
So now it is day 4, there is only so much entertainment I can find on the internet! I was telling my friend Francine that I am lacking human conversation. Since arriving back here I have barely said boo to a goose, just the simple hello/thankyou to shop assistants, receptionists, and even THE POLICE.
“Why the police?” I hear you cry! When I woke up on Wednesday morning there came a knock at the door, bleary eyed I slid the bolt across and creaked it open, half expecting the postman, who is not adversed to seeing me in pyjamas. However the glare of a reflective jacket and large bald policeman greeted me; there I was facing the law in blue checkered loungepants and a stained t-shirt with massive hole in the back, hardly clothes to be arrested in. My mind wandered to what on earth I could’ve done, and I felt myself go red; you know when your not guilty, but feel it anyway. The officer informed me that nextdoor had had their basement door kicked in, and they had been burgled. OH GREAT!, just what I want when I am alone for the next 2 weeks. As soon as I said I hadn’t seen anything he was gone, off into the sun, flicking his notebook closed without another word.
So with the burglary I have now taken to putting all my friends on deathwatch, if they don’t hear from me in a few days, avenge my death; this is met with the same response of “Stop saying things like that!” When leaving the house I cautiously dodge around, double locking everything, I leave the lights on, and whenever I hear a noise I bang around in a naive attempt to scare away any wannabe intruders.
Now I realise I am rambling, but I suppose that is what you are meant to do in a blog, so refer back to the picture at the top, RESERVOIR DOGS, Quentin Tarantino’s directing debut about manly men, doing a manly robbery, and getting shot by other manly men, in a manly warehouse; not meaning to sound sexist, but it is a typical man’s film. I watched this again yesterday. The film is featured in Wikipedia’s “List of films that most frequently use the work f**k”After my swearing marathon I then found myself feeling pumped, wanting to pull off a diamond heist, or shoot my imaginary intruder, then utter a witty one-liner. As part of my ‘manliness’ I took a trip to the gym, deciding I will start going more often again, well hey, i’ve got nothing better to do at the moment. It might make up for yesterday’s diet of haribo and easter egg. My hope is that if I keep going I will soon look like this man (Mr.Motivator), obvious differences aside.