to be young
Today I have been missing my youth, I know that years and hindsight have worked to gradually erase all the miserable times that I had but for some strange inexplicable reason I have wanted to be young and stupid again.
I wanted to go out for a beer with my mates and not return home until 3 days later, to end up cooking beans and spam on toast at four in the morning to a group of guitar playing people. To be so stoned that 10 minutes seems like a lifetime and my cheap and shitty carpet grew to be six inch tall grass with herds of tiny zebras herds galloping through it.
Having no idea where or what I would be doing tomorrow, it was like being one of those fluffy dandelion flowers drifting with the breeze. No plans no worries no nothing.
So, I shall continue to continue to pretend, my life will never end and flowers never bend in the rainstorm. (name that tune!)
Donít get me wrong here, I am a happy bunny. I just feel the need for a spot of madness now and again, something away from the normal suburban way of life. I may have to drag K away for a haul around either the west coast of Scotland or bits of France. K loves France and to be truthful I think her ideal home is not in the cold and windy outer Hebrides of Scotland but in the warmth of a secluded valley in the south of France.
But you just never know, if the Scotland thing goes tits up we may end up in France. I just donít know. I donít want to be bastardman railroading K to a place she doesnít want to be in, but the island draws me to it like a magnet, I like the sky, like scenery, like the people, like the pace of life.
My boy child seems to have inherited some of my more shitty traits, one of which is very poor management of his anger. He has this week thrown his mobile phone at a table and trashed it and threw a can of soup at the wall causing damage. The thing is I do stupid things like this to this day. Iím 41 he is 15, I was going to call him to tell him off but as K says itís a bit like the pot calling the kettle black arse.