Wary

Got out for an hour this lunch and had a walk around the Arbouretum. Apparently my capture of a squirrel back in January wasn't that special, today I saw about twleve. I went for this one looking a bit suspicious of two fat pigeons stalking around. This shot narrowly beat one of my cat Rascal sat atop of my fishtank pearing down wondering how to access her colourful lunch.

City got beat 5-1 at home last night. For everyone who doesn't know about football: thats bad. I had a decent night as Poacher though. I threw myself through the serving hatch of the food stand and destroyed a Pukka Pies oven and several bottle of condiment. I did skin my knee though which was bad, but the girls serving gave me a fre steak pie after I'd changed. So alls well that ends well.

I arranged a meeting of the fans group I'm involved in for 5.30pm in the bar at the ground, and the others turnd up at 6.20pm. I wasn't too happy, but then I never am so I guess it was cool. Gave me something to moan about.

It's cold as my gas has run out. I'm hungry as my food has run out. I'm grouchy as my tobacco has run out. I'm mega pissed that I've got back from work to discover this and now have to go out again. My petrollight is on. Will I make it? Who knows. It's a bit like a shit lottery, if I win then I get a couple of miles walking in the cold as a prize. Lose and I know that the walk could come tomorrow on the way to work. I can barely contain my excitement.

I also got stuck behind a bin lorry on a city street for fifteen minute as well so I missed lunch. I turned down a narrow one way street and there they were. Banged Carla (my car) into reverse, looked behind and discovered a people carrier containing a stress looking mother and about eighty kids. So I sat there wedged between some rough arsed rubbish collectors and a people carrier full of future ASBO kids. Gesticulating did help (although I didn't do that at the kids, I have limits), shouting didn't work and my horn didn't work. They just kept driving foward six feet to load in the next bin, and then halfway down they went and knocked on a door to ask for the guys bin!!! Seriously my bin men don't take my rubbish if the lid is slightly open, and these guys block me (a tax payer) in for ages. I bet the guy who hadn't put his bin out was a doley, or suffering from a disability like 'laziness'. To rub salt in the wounds it was the street I used to live on back in the day, so I could see the flat. Without me, partying in it.

When I got back to work I wrote a very strongly worded email expressing my intense displeasure at being made to sit behind three men who's life achievement is taking away other people refuse and causing pain to good honest men like me. Fuckers.

Sorry for the language and stereotyping of binmen. I do have the greatest respect for anyone who does the job, it shows a desire to work in any conditions. However as these three in particular derived pleasure from my anger I feel I am entitled to label them as knuckle dragging ex convicts with bad body odour. I'd go as far s to say they will never read my journal because they can't read, and I hope every one of them is sat at home now wondering where their life went wrong.

Other than that it was an alright day. My Mum bought me two little tupperware tubs full of drumstick lollies.