Classic comment from last night …

The Pig continues being nasty .. “so why did you get home from work at 11.30 on Sunday.  The pub shuts at 10.30″

“I think you will find that last orders is at 10.30 but I generally get out at 11.00 after clearing up, but you know that Sunday nights are fairly relaxed and anyway it takes 15 minutes to drive it .. so that would make it that I’ve supposedly lost 15 minutes .. big deal, I was slow clearing up!  Anyway there have been times when I’ve got in a 2.00 am after work on a Sunday night .. remember the Sports Personality night when local Snooker Player came in with that film crew?”

He shut up then, but I know the grudge is still there and will continue to be thrown at me!

A smile!

On a better note .. on Wednesday I got a text from The Admirer

“Hiya, just waiting for my flight to sunny Portugal?  Do you fancy being my caddy?”

So I replied later in the evening:

“Bugger, I just got your text. Did I miss the flite?  Sitting in every piece of clothing I own – could do with some sun.  Good luck with the golf.”

This morning I got a text all it said was … “xxx”

I’m not going anywhere with this, or him, but it’s making me smile – which on a day when the weather outside is blowing a gale and raining, is something!

I give up!

I got home to another torrent of abuse last night, from someone who had been in the pub for most of the day, topping up from the night before.  “I’m stressed, I had to lay off people today because The Client won’t pay” and then the best of all his reasons for being in the pub “I’ve got 2 bathrooms to do, one shower room and the ladies toilets in the pub as well as I’ve got to see Tom about a job at his house”.

I object to being called “ficko” and “fuckin’ ficko” and find it very difficult to ignore and continue doing what I am doing. 

Him: “What are we having for dinner, ficko?”

Me: “Don’t know”

Him: “Well let’s get a take-away then ficko”

Me: “I don’t want one, I think I’ll cook what we were going to have last night, everything is prepared”

Him: “I don’t want that, I won’t eat it, I’ll have a sandwich”

Me: “Suit yourself”

Him: “So what are you having?”

I ignored him ..

Him: “oi fuckin’ ficko” .. again and again and again until I gave in and answered just to shut him up.

And he wonders why I get so angry???

Anyway I have a dictaphone in my bag fully charged with a brand new tape .. I’ll be using it next time .. to playw him the evidence when he’s sober!

There’s more, but that little lot wore me out!