Quote of the day comes from Charlie Brooker in this week’s Guardian:
“Morning has broken ? Good I hate morning. You wake, soaked in your own filth, your face raw from last night’s tears, shards of shattered shot-glass peppering the bedspread, and you ask yourself what difference it would make if instead of going to work you spent the day banging your head against the kitchen table and howling till your skull bursts open and the pain flops out. Or is that just me ?”
Well, there are all kinds of things that I could write about – that we’ve been married six years, that we’ve hit our overdraft limit on July 5th, that Michele hit 32, that Margot (landlady of the Rosey) has installed her parrot, Clive, in the pub, that George Bush still doesn’t get it, that we spent much of the weeky tidying for what turned out to be a ten minute visit from the landlady…..
but you know I can’t be bothered…instead I’m just going to hide away in the flat, shout at the telly, write pointless programs, drink red wine and generally appreciate Michele and Humphrey (my beattiful birds 🙂
