So I’m a grumpy fucker on a Friday again.
There are probably deep-seated reasons that the psychologists amongst you, or whose who watched the first three seasons of Big Brother, have long worked out.
I’m partly putting it down to a comedown. But mostly Bracknell.
Yes. Bracknell. It is the source of much that fucks me off. It is the source of my unsatisfyingly dull job and home of the house of annoyances.
I was never totally convinced about the house I’m living in, but it was the one that ticked the most boxes. I came home last night to a snotty notice on the white-board about my washing being in the way.
Well how about the fucking shoes in my way? Or motorcyclist gear? Jumpers? People shouting at their computers until 1am? Yes fucking shouting at a computer. Slamming doors. Loud televisions. Squeaky beds. And not one but two couples having sex.
Who is putting the bin out the most? Who is emptying the dishwasher most often? Who is the only person to have done any actual cleaning during the 4 weeks that the cleaner apparently couldn’t work out how to use a front door key?
And then it got me thinking that I’m a failure because I’m 35 and there is absolutely zero chance of me ever owning my place and being able to walk around naked (bar Brazilian nipple tassels and a coal miner’s helmet). But how much of that is my fault and how much of that the lack of supply over the past 30-40 years, caused by government policy (Labour AND Tory)?
Maybe I should join the Liberal Democrats. At least if Jeremy Corbyn got in, the economy would go down the pan and house prices would collapse. In theory.
Besides, there will be some kind of recession in the next 5 years, not a patch on the last one but it might also cause at least a slight correction in house prices.
Back to my miserable bastard self (see I’m fucking swearing like a proper Bracknellite now) and I’m not exactly happy in my job. It is totally unchallenging and really doesn’t give me any kind of mental stimulation, apart from the odd argument. Every day. I do feel that it causes me to be more angry and miserable.
Why didn’t I go down the sales route?
Anyway, I’ve had a plan for a while and part of it was moving to Bracknell so I could study more.
Am I studying more? No.
But that is because I’ve been going out lots. Whenever I had a heavy weekend when living in Reading, I wouldn’t get any studying done the next week. At least now I’m managing around 5 hours. My weekly target is 10. I currently have a 57 hour backlog.
I am less tired and do feel healthier for moving to Bracknell. But I am not getting any closer to living in London or more importantly, being a web developer. On a positive note, the discontentment should push me towards London next year, early next year, even if it means taking a bog-standard credit control job temporarily, even if it means having even less spare money than I do now. I didn’t have to get out of Reading. I really do have to get out of Bracknell.
Then again, there isn’t much point in doing anything until I get my annual bonus in January. Which last year paid for my holiday to Ibiza.
I am going to throw that fucking whiteboard out of the window if there are any more snotty, bitchy notes (it isn’t the first one).
Blogging always calms me down a tad. Which is the main reason I wrote this in the first place.
More importantly I’m going on holiday tomorrow. Lisbon to be exact. 3 nights in what is supposed to be a very exciting city – it looks absolutely fantastic, not to mention that there is a small chance of a thunderstorm with the remnants of Hurricane Joaquim heading there too. Of course, it being me, the remnants are fading away and there won’t be much in the way of weather excitement, if any.
It could be argued that I need the break. I certainly need to get away from Royal Berkshire. I cannot wait for the pre-aeroplane beer tomorrow morning.
And that is not the only reason to be jolly. Next Friday I’m DJing, next Sunday I’m going to fabric’s birthday shenanigans, and the Saturday after I am going to the Barbican to see Jeff Mills and the BBC Orchestra do their techno classical thing. October seems to be my party season.
So for now, I’m fucked off, fed up of Bracknell, and maybe just a tiny bit lonely too. But don’t tell my psychologist.
I still have 3 tubs of gravy left…