As is given away so unimaginatively by the title of this entry, I am now back in the lovely land of England. And I can’t help but feel rather depressed, really.
Coming back on the M5 today into the heart of the Black Country made me realise that Ireland is just such a better place to live. The sight of factory after factory producing utter crap and chavs sporting their latest tracksuit just makes me utterly sick of this entire thing.
Whatever happened to being British? There used to be a time - not so long ago - when this nation respected some of the traditions of old. Now it just seems we’re all interested in is screwing someone before they screw us more.
I like being able to go to a proper English shop, purchase a cup of tea (drunk from a china cup, of course) with some scones and sit back to read the newspaper or simply admire the nice view. What do we have now? Hey, let’s go and get some café latte and rush to work in order to work our arses off all day for pittance, and then have the Government screw us up the ass, giving all our money away to the EU and other such worthy causes.
To give you an example of why I’m getting so utterly sick of the people in this country, let us consider the glorious people, mythically known to all as “my next door neighbours”. Personally, I like to call them “the stupid twats”.
My grandad kindly stays over at our house during the holidays doing jobs that we don’t have time for in the general scheme of things. One such task was the re-painting of the garage doors which have looked quite manky as of late. Admittedly, he started the job at the sultry hour of 8am. However, he wasn’t making what is generally classified as unreasonable amounts of noise, and had to go and get the appropriate materials for the job.
Upon his return, he begins the task at hand and all is going quite swimmingly. About five minutes into the job, however, the next door neighbour decides to show her utter contempt for us and to kindly acknowledge the fact that she is indeed a stupid cow by saluting my grandfather with a bugle salute at an obscenely loud level.
Now, my grandad isn’t as they say, getting any younger. I dread to think what this may have done to others of his age, but I’ve known a lot less to cause far more drastic consequences; the issue of a mild heart attack leaps to mind, of course. As he told me upon my return: “I had half a mind to tell her to stick it up her arse.”
Quite.
Now, the issue of my stupendously moronic neighbour aside, I am finding more and more people like this every day of my life. Namely, a bunch of moronic and ignorant twats. Frankly, I’m sick and tired of having to put up with people who find it amusing (for lack of a more appropriate word) to shout at us for having made the mildest of inconveniences in their obviously busy schedule.
Seriously - what kind of people do we have living next to us? It’s not like we sit around the living room plotting how to make their lives the miserable hell that it quite obviously make it out to be. It’s not like I go around randomly pumping out 19,000W of pure noise into their foundations.
This is the kind of thing I’m on about really. You just don’t find this kind of irrational behaviour over in Ireland. For the most part the people are friendly to talk to, and more importantly, I feel safe walking by myself around the town. You only need to venture 6 or 7 miles down the road into Aston to get a shotgun up your arse and a 9mm down the back of your spine. Hey, that sounds like a laugh.
So, you ask yourself, what was the point in this incoherant gibberish? Simply put, this blog (of sorts) is a place where I can vent my frustration without physically going next door and barbequeing the equally annoying dog.
Anyway, besides all of this, it’s good to be in my house, even if the surrounding area is about as nice as a giant turd embedded in a sea of urine. I can at least find some comfort in my room and my various bits of tacky memorabilia. However, we did have some surprises when we got back.
Firstly, the house has changed quite a bit. My grandad has also been working on the garage which now looks like it might be actually used for something other than storing every object known to mankind. The veranda area has also been cleaned up quite a lot, and that can only be a good thing.
The second nice thing was the postcard that I received from Sarah who got back from America a few days ago. Was fun to read up on what they’d been doing and all that, so it killed a few minutes.
And that was about it. Bugger.
In terms of my schedule for the next month or so, there’s not an awful lot on the cards.
- I want to get out more than I’ve been doing for the past two months, and hopefully catch up with some people that have been missing for an awfully long time.
- Work my arse off to earn money.
- Lose some weight, since I didn’t exactly eat “heathily” in Ireland. Bastard Guinness people.
- Attempt some more maths. Possibly.
- Go up to Warwick on possibly the 21st.
- Random things that I am yet to think of.
University is possibly the one thing I’m looking forward to at the moment. The holidays seem to be dragging and I’m quite keen to get on with my degree and get it finished. Not because I’m eager to leave, but I think that until I’ve finished I’m not going to know how to go from there. Right now, postgraduate work really sounds appealing, but I’m not entirely sure and the more I think about it, the more I want to beat myself to death with a giant teaspoon in a convoluted and provocative way.
Besides teaspoons, university and general agression towards pretty much everything, there’s a bit of an empty void and rather a lot of mild depression/anxiety - I’d quite like to see people before I slip into utter crapness of doom.
This entry didn’t really turn out as I’d expected it to. And it’s really long. Hmm.
PS: I’ve heard of the trials and tribulations of Coventry. I’ll pop down when I can to visit all and see everyone. Also - nice job on the garden Helen, it’s looking absolutely great.
1:29 am | Posted in Politics, Ranting
|
2 Comments » | Show comments »
| Hide comments »
| 
