Insert Father Jack here
I’ve had a really enjoyable week, doing stuff that I don’t ordinarily get to do, and properly enjoyed myself. I learnt stuff too, but I did really enjoy myself.
Unfortunately as soon as it seems that the fates are smiling, the fuckers decide to bulldozer over happy street and build a really crappy supermarket of financial misery. Clearly I can’t go into much detail but generally we are a bit fucked. Good and proper. Not only does it seem likely that I’m going to have to postpone my first visit to the loveliest journalista (I’m waiting to see if I do really have to), but we’re in no more food shopping territory. Good job I stockpile cans of tomatoes and beans. Less good for anyone who spends time near any of us.
So the repair of mine laptop is at the very lowest priority. Thus it looks like Linux and I are going to have to come to some arrangement, where upon it doesn’t fuck about and I don’t swear even more than I am in this post. (Top indicator of drop in my mood I use the word fuck more than three times in one sentence).
This is just a short one because any remaining words would just be fuck and cunt, and variations therein.
Aw I’m so sorry to hear it!
These are tough times for us all; I really hope things look better for you soon and that I get to see you…
(would me paying half your train fare help any?)
Aw thank you. I’m going to play a bit of monetary chess and fingers crossed I should still be able to come and annoy you.
(Just got to make sure I do so to fit in with National Rail’s definition of advance)
Arse feck and many more suchwords. We have been there, and its amazing how cheaply two (plus half in your case) can eat. You could start a home veg patch (if you haven’t already)…
Think of it as one of those swearily bad testing times that we all get sent and it’s just a downhill slide until you find the upward slope again.
Ouch … those bloody fuckers.