Right.

What?

Oh yes.

I have endeavoured to wash away today and have done.

So bloody there.

And I think I need a second go through the old pre soak and hot wash routine or some other metaphor for more drinkies, just to be sure.

I have had some hugs delivered to me from various people (who know who they are) and I thank you. BUT next time get your lazy arses over here and do it in person. I hate tipping the delivery boy.

Ahem.

And in a break with tradition, one of my friends has axed their blog but not while I was away for a long weekend somewhere, which is the normal pattern of things! Look you lot, if your gonna stack your blogs do it when I am away having fun, so I get the traditional come down when I sit at my pc to relate how good it was where ever the fuck I had been.

But at least Ker Bear has left her profile up.

Well it is still there as I type. I don't know why she killed off her blog (again) exactly, but I think I understand why - just wish she hadn't.

and on that very cheerful note, probably F#, I will say - off to drink more and then a bit extra and cuddle my Les Paul.

Oh by the way, before I got here - today was officially a pile of shit.

It’s the 80’s just for a change. I did some silly shit back then and apologise for none of it.

We – My girlfriend and I – want and bloody well are going down to the Ruskin Arms to in East Ham.

There is also on this glorious evening, a “Mod all dayer” at Ilford Town Hall. So what? Well it means that we will have to get the 25 bus from the area we live to get to East Ham, and the 25 runs right up the middle of Ilford High Road. Oh good. So we do this thing, and we see a lot of Mods on the street of old Ilford, but as we are just two people on a bus in the early evening we manage to pass through without incident. Yeah there were a couple of Mods on the bus, but they got off at Ilford and we did get a few rude signs from the clumps of green parka wearing souls shuffling towards the Town Hall, but hey – we were gliding past on the bus.

Outside the Ruskin Arms at the close of the evening, we and the rest of our group who travelled through Ilford are discussing the situation. Soberly, honest to God. Some one suggests we go to the squat. Cool, but the squat is in bloody Ilford! Hellooooo! But we think this is a good idea. Must have been stoned.

I should just point out that the squat in question was the first Ilford squat, not one of the later ones that had electricity and gas and running water. This one was just a derelict house people used to use to get stoned in. Class eh?

So we get on the 25 and head of to Ilford. Who is we- let me introduce the massed ranks of the deluded to you.

Me – dressed like all the others in tatty leather jacket with a sleeveless denim jacket over the top and tatty jeans. Totally shite at fighting as I had not a lot of experience at that sort of thing but blessed with the temper of a Tasmanian devil.

Sandy – my then true love. Blond, curvy, big eyes and if she is reading this via Kizlodes blog, HI! Remember this night?

Sage – Drug dealer of the parish. Permanently laid back and easy going demeanour due to test driving his own wares, but actually never known to take any shit from anyone and a general street fighter.

Jean – the willowy very petite blond and extremely white girlfriend of above fellow.

Rob the Grob – now deceased little rat bastard purveyor of vile practical jokes perpetrated on sleeping victims. The sort of nasty fucker that would ask someone out for a fight and punch them in the back of the neck on the way out.

Rick – stick thin ginger bloke, who we should have called “the ginger ninja” due to the fact he was very very good at Tai Kwan Do.

So the 25 arrived in Ilford, which was now crawling with Mods also looking for a bus home and all the other passengers on the bus stared at their green coated masses.

“Right! Our stop – lets go!” said Sage and got up. We were on the top deck and as we stoop up and (I hate to admit this) swaggered down the isle, the passengers actually fucking applauded us!

Someone even shouted -

“Go get ‘em lads”

They obviously thought they were witnessing a modern day “Charge of the Light Brigade”

Part two of this may follow, if I can be arsed, at some future date.

A few things I said I was not going to do today are about to go by the wayside.

1 - not go down the pub. I am, so there.

2 - not have a "funny" mood. Too late.

I am as bored as a cheese sandwhich and have nothing to do. Well I am getting a few calls from disgruntled customers but they can talk to the voice mail and I will get back to them (honest)

I am not having a funny mood today - no I am NOT. I have decided.

Even though I am bored and NOT having a funny mood I have absofuckinglutely nothing to say. I have seen nothing even vaugley interesting happening on the streets so far during my numerous ciggie breaks, no one has come up to me and asked me anythign stupid, and I have not done anything silly.

and I am not having a funny mood today. not not not. Not going down there again.

Oh no.

Did I say I'm also bored?