Sunday 31st July 2011

So.  Here I am, reader.  Under house arrest because of the annual horror-fest that is the Sunderland International Airshow.  You know, I resent the fact that the council has the audacity to call it 'international'.  In actual fact, it is just an excuse for the vagabonds of local council estates to strip off, wear ill-fitting Primark vests, show off their tattoos, drink too much and piss in the streets.
Yesterday, I decided to have a stroll along the beach before the aircraft started to fly past.  My god.  People unpacking picnics, sitting in deckchairs on the beach.  Vile in the extreme.  Let me be perfectly frank.  Once you have seen one plane, surely the 'excitement' subsides??

There did seem to be quite a few lesbians on the prowl, though.  Not my sort though.  More like the Bulgarian Shot-Putters that I spoke about in my previous blog entry

http://ebony-fragiletension.blogspot.com/2011/07/god-im-b-o-r-e-d.html

Miss Underscore and I were chatting during our Saturday jaunt to Newcastle yesterday.  I mentioned that I had signed up for a couple of t'internet dating sites.  She seemed intrigued by these.  Indeed, I don't think that she could wait to get home to sign up for a free trial so that she could 'fix me up' with a suitable  lay-dee.  I'm taking the whole dating thing with a huge pinch of sea salt flakes (you didn't think that I used Saxa, reader....did you?).  Sometime, I confess that I find it embarrassing, almost sleazy.  However, I shall persevere with it until my month's subscription is up.  Mad Nurse Gladys emailed me on one of these sites - she had no idea who the hell she was emailing (I have no photo on there and masquerade under a pseudonym). However, I think that her idea of 'sexy flirting' needs some work.  Her email read as follows:

'Hi.  How you are?'  I did not respond, reader.  Christ, a little more effort required, I think. And please, get the words in the right fucking order.

On a more positive note, my physio has finally accepted my friend request on Facebook.  I have indulged in a bit of witty banter with her. Am seeing her again on Wednesday for treatment.  However, she cannot go too near my gash with the acupuncture needles in case it gets infected.  That's the gash where my cyst was.  Just in case you wondered.  Nothing will ever come of our banter - but it is a tad flirtatious at times.  Particularly as I usually have my top off and feel all naked and vulnerable when it happens.  She confided in me during my last visit that all is not well with her relationship.  Seven years they have been together.

Hmmm.  I recall that Phil and I hit the skids after seven years.  Although, he did manage to come up with the worst excuse EVER when he failed to come home one night after a drinking session.  Picture the scene.  Madam Noir has hardly slept, fearing that her boyfriend has been attacked, left for dead...anything could have happened.  She rings her mam who is equally as worried.  The rotter finally turns up in the early afternoon.  The dialogue goes as follows:

Me:  'Where the hell have you been?  I've been worried sick.  I thought you'd had an accident.'

Him:  'Ah, erm.....I got so drunk that I forgot where I lived.'

Needless to say that I kicked him out not long after this episode.  I will always remember when I returned to the house that we had shared for many years.  He could have trashed the place, taken anything.  I discovered that he had taken a pillow from the bed that we shared, a jar of Nescafe and a box of Frosties cornflakes (they're grrrrreeaatt!!!).  I still chuckle now when I think about that.

Anyway, time to exit stage left and get some washing out.  Until next time.