This morning started off fine, at about 9:30, which is always a bit strange when the night before you’ve had four pints and probably the best part of a bottle of wine. I eventually persuaded Jamie that breakfast was required for two dogs and me. I ate breakfast and read the paper. The alarm kept going off and I kept on adding another ten minutes. It was Radio 2. Ike and Tina Turner came on with ‘River deep mountain high’. I grabbed hold of Jamie’s winky and started fapping away to the tune. I was getting into the groove. After a couple of minutes it got to the slow bit so I settled into a steady rhythm, then the beat picked up again and he suddenly blurted out, “Oh my god the fucking chorus”, I burst out laughing at that point and that was the end of it. I finished the paper and got up.

So today was all about painting, and lots of it. Sanded the coving and gave that another coat. Stained the wood round the patio door and then did the skirting. Picked up the dog poo and then had lunch. Gave the coving another sand and another coat. Decided the wood stain on the patio door looked shit so just painted that the same as the skirting. After eleven hours it’s all done bar the touching up with a fine brush. Then I need to caulk it all.

In the meantime mother had left two messages on my mobile. The first was moaning that the curtains hadn’t been sewn straight so she had to pin them all up again. Then that she had spent 45 minutes trying to close her curtains because part of the rail had come out. She would then apparently have to spend the next day in the dark as she couldn’t close them, and how was she supposed to do my curtains then, and could I pop round and sort it out. The next message was that she had managed to sort her curtain rail out, but she was still having issues with my curtains, blah blah blah. I didn’t call her back, I really don’t give a flying fuck about her curtain rail. I knew this would cause me grief, I wish now I’d just packed them up and sent them down to Alison to be done. At least then I wouldn’t have to donate a fucking kidney to have them taken up three inches. Everything is just such a fucking chore with her, she has no idea about how much stress it causes for me. I’m not in the greatest of mental states and she does fuck all to help it. I really should have moved country when I had the chance. Remind me Christmas time, there’s a great story about a present we got her, where she turned out to be the worlds most ungrateful bitch.

Finished off, then found Jamie in the bath which was rather inconvenient, so basically had to sit on his fat thighs. Mind you his massive stomach does make a good pillow.

And there we go. He’s now walking the dogs, hopefully then we may eat and its only 00:30.

Anyway folks, if you enjoy reading my whitterings, and want to follow more of my day to day rants about helicopters, Ubuntu, my bad sex life or how much I hate my mother you can follow me on Twitter using @mannmansion I’ll attempt to follow back as many as possible (if anyone follows me at all). Mind you on twitter this evening was Connor Maynard saying he was naked and covered in Nutella, which sounded quite interesting.

So this morning started with some weird dreams which thankfully I didn’t remember. It was actually a really nice sunny but cold day. So I took the dogs up to the field in Almondsbury and they had a good run around off lead. We popped into the vets on the way back and picked up some flee flee and wormy wormy.

Came back and had lunch, then I headed out to B&Q and got some paint for the skirting boards and stain for the patio door. Picked up from crickets, walked into town and bought a shirt. Popped into mothers and dropped off the curtains and gave her six bottles of red.

She then left me a message on my phone to say that she didn’t have the right colour cotton for them and would have to go all the way to John Lewis. Now this slightly annoyed me a bit…I’ve given her about fifty quids worth of wine for taking up a couple of pairs of curtains three inches.

Now for some reason this triggered a couple of really bad memories. Call me an ungrateful bitch if you want, but fuck you, here we go. Lets go back thirty years. I was eleven. PE. Okay, I wasn’t the most athletic kid in school, but I did used to enjoy it, I especially liked basketball. Anyway, I was wearing a pair of white daps that I had inherited from my sister. For PE, I required some white sports socks. I asked mother for some, she said that they were too expensive and I couldn’t have any. But we went to a weird shop in Coldharbour Road, which sold weird shit. There she bought me a pair of girls laced socks and said ‘ah nobody will notice’. Jesus fucking christ, I was eleven, do you think that I wouldn’t be beaten to shit for wearing some girls laced socks. I never wore them, I would have been fucking killed. I just went bear footed, which caused my feet to be completely sore after every PE session. In the end I actually stole a pair of socks out of lost property. I kept these secret and washed them by hand for five years. All because my bitch mother wouldn’t spend a couple of quid on some white sports socks. I was also the only kid that never had any trainers, I felt like a real third world outcast.

And while we are at it, here’s another one. I was very good at rugby. I enjoyed it. It was fairly tactical, so it not only required brawn, it required brains as well. And each type had their own positions. I was asked several times by the school to join the school team as one of the ‘backs’, as I had good tactical skills and could outrun anyone. I always refused, as I knew I would only get the piss taken out of me by my parents. It was always the case that if rugby was mentioned, it was always, “Oh Tim is good at rugby, they use him as the ball”, hahahha, fucking bitches. If there was ever a school for making someone feel very small and insecure, you would be the masters of it. I never did play for the school team. I also never played for the school basketball team, I wasn’t allowed as apparently my shoes were a bit of an embarrassment, but the PE teacher did offer to buy me some! Meanwhile, mother was treating herself to everything available from Gratton, Burlington, Great Universal and Empire Stores.

So if you have kids folks, and they are vaguely interested in any kind of school sports, give them every kind of support you can give. And I don’t mean spend your time on the sidelines swearing at all the other kids. I mean give up buying yet another dress you’ll never wear and buy the kid some trainers that won’t embarrass the shit out of them.

Am I bitter? Yes I fucking am. Is it justified? Well the older I get, I find the more I’m mentally affected by it all. It will come to a point where it will become intolerable. Then it will be a case of her or me. It sounds really bad, but there is only one point when I truly will be free. Somehow at the moment she is still in control, this is tearing me from the inside.

This evening we went out with some of Jamie’s Tesco friends. We went to the Italian and ate turkey which was rather strange. It was a good evening though.

Oh the spoons thing. Yes, in St. Nick’s market there was a probably homeless man with a radio, who was playing the spoons to a radio, it was rather bizarre and rather fascinating at the same time.

Spent the bulk of the day debugging threaded rendering, which really is quite dull, but quite intense.

Went to the gym and did spin, it was with Kate rather than Paul, so no bad American accent. Game back, did more work, finally found the bug I was looking for. Watched the live stream of Danisnotonfire. I need to stalk more.

Jamie is playing xbone with his little friend (Game of Thrones). I’m finding someone with a ‘God’ complex quite amusing, I put it down to insecurity.

You know, people look back and say, “Oh, I wouldn’t change a thing”. Gash to that, there’s a fucking lot I’d change between about sixteen and twenty-six. There’s still some people I need to hunt down and destroy.

This morning started with another weird dream, I’m sure it had something to do with Tesco’s but thankfully can’t remember it much.

Bit of a strange day for reasons I won’t go into yet, but it may involve sacrificing some chickens. Work was mainly threading, renderer type stuff. All going to plan, if a little dull at the moment.

Went to combat, that was fun. Did more work. Got back into Twitter so I can stalk people. Think I’ll have a quick glass of wine to settle my head then have an early night and do some reading. Can’t really get into the GP qualifier.

Oh yes, the skirting boards, staining them maple didn’t really work, looks like the dogs have run their asses down them. Ordered a tester pot of a dark brown, will just go for paint instead. Get the bloody thing finished after about two years.

Today started without sex. Spent most of it analysing render thread interactions.

Went to Spin. Crashed the CX3, which is annoying. Ordered parts for CX3. Flew mcx2 lots, I like that one.

Alison has offered to take curtains up, but distance and time is a bit of an issue. However I have a case of red I’ve brewed….will this be a replacement for my soul?