Life just goes on getting better doesn’t it? I say this ironically because I seem to have the monkey of unhappiness and misfortune hanging off my shoulder. I think it’s because I pissed off God with my incessant questions as he’s now sulking and taken the comments feature and links to other blogs off his blog. Or its just cos I’m unlucky, perhaps one of those gypsy women put a curse on me because I didn’t buy a sprig of lucky heather off them once, about 12 years ago! Maybe I’ve walked under a ladder recently, but I can’t remember or that black cat didn’t cross my path but veered off at the last minute – anyway I’m not suspicious at all and those things wouldn’t affect me – touch wood!
No it’s just my life has been one misfortune after another. I told you it was my wedding anniversary on Sunday (no that’s not the misfortune, it is in fact the one shining beacon in the darkness that is my life) And that we were going to spend the weekend in Newquay, I know that’s also a bit of a misfortune as those of you who have been there will testify but the hotel was OK and we had a great view out of the window of our room of Towan Beach. We spent the afternoon lazily taking coffee in the café overlooking Fistral Beach. Fistral is a world renowned surfing beach and the sea shone turquoise in the late May sun. Later that evening we watched the Eurovision Song Contest, this could be described as a misfortune, but we watched it because it came from Kiev and my wife being Ukrainian wanted to watch it. The night progressed.
Until at 2:30a.m. people came home from the clubs, the guys in the room next to ours were very noisy, standing in the corridors screeching and shouting, running up and down and etc etc such was the level of noise obviously we couldn’t sleep, this lasted until 6:30 in the morning when they seemed to go quite for an hour and then started up again at 7:30, you can appreciate how unhappy my wife and I were.
Anyway to cut a long story short, we complained as did other guests to the arrogant hotelier, who did, after being berated, agree to refund our money – I await the cheque – I won’t hold my breath
But even more of a misfortune is the fact that I have had to take my trousers back to Marks and Spencers, yet again. Yes once again my arse has fallen out of my trousers. Oscar Wilde would have had a field day he would have said ‘To rip one pair of trousers, Mr Worthing, may be regarded as a misfortune; to rip both looks like you have a big fat arse.’ It has to be a fault with the garment, it must. Like I have remonstrated before, I have worn trousers all my grown up life and never once, not once, have I ripped the arse out of my trousers. So I took them back, got a refund and chose a completely different style of trousers. I will keep you posted.
I know that compared to people living in places like, say, Australia, my misfortunes might seem minuscule and irrelevant, but to a sensitive person like me they are quite big, for instance, I’m still tired after the weekend and its Wednesday now, what happened to the days when I could go out clubbing till 6:30 in the morning and still go to work the same day! And without the aid of performance enhancing drugs!
And even worse am I doomed to spend the rest of my life in those trousers with elasticated waists and voluminous bottoms, made out of crimplene, and in a fetching beige colour, the sort which you see in the Sunday supplements, in the News of the World or The People for example, not that I’ve been looking - Honest.
No it’s just my life has been one misfortune after another. I told you it was my wedding anniversary on Sunday (no that’s not the misfortune, it is in fact the one shining beacon in the darkness that is my life) And that we were going to spend the weekend in Newquay, I know that’s also a bit of a misfortune as those of you who have been there will testify but the hotel was OK and we had a great view out of the window of our room of Towan Beach. We spent the afternoon lazily taking coffee in the café overlooking Fistral Beach. Fistral is a world renowned surfing beach and the sea shone turquoise in the late May sun. Later that evening we watched the Eurovision Song Contest, this could be described as a misfortune, but we watched it because it came from Kiev and my wife being Ukrainian wanted to watch it. The night progressed.
Until at 2:30a.m. people came home from the clubs, the guys in the room next to ours were very noisy, standing in the corridors screeching and shouting, running up and down and etc etc such was the level of noise obviously we couldn’t sleep, this lasted until 6:30 in the morning when they seemed to go quite for an hour and then started up again at 7:30, you can appreciate how unhappy my wife and I were.
Anyway to cut a long story short, we complained as did other guests to the arrogant hotelier, who did, after being berated, agree to refund our money – I await the cheque – I won’t hold my breath
But even more of a misfortune is the fact that I have had to take my trousers back to Marks and Spencers, yet again. Yes once again my arse has fallen out of my trousers. Oscar Wilde would have had a field day he would have said ‘To rip one pair of trousers, Mr Worthing, may be regarded as a misfortune; to rip both looks like you have a big fat arse.’ It has to be a fault with the garment, it must. Like I have remonstrated before, I have worn trousers all my grown up life and never once, not once, have I ripped the arse out of my trousers. So I took them back, got a refund and chose a completely different style of trousers. I will keep you posted.
I know that compared to people living in places like, say, Australia, my misfortunes might seem minuscule and irrelevant, but to a sensitive person like me they are quite big, for instance, I’m still tired after the weekend and its Wednesday now, what happened to the days when I could go out clubbing till 6:30 in the morning and still go to work the same day! And without the aid of performance enhancing drugs!
And even worse am I doomed to spend the rest of my life in those trousers with elasticated waists and voluminous bottoms, made out of crimplene, and in a fetching beige colour, the sort which you see in the Sunday supplements, in the News of the World or The People for example, not that I’ve been looking - Honest.
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