Sunday, January 24, 2010


Sunday 24 January 2010

Today I wake up in full knowledge, realisation and acceptance that I wasted yesterday and as a result now I have a lot to do in order to make up for that.  No pressure.

Again I awaken around 7.45AM which is perhaps my ideal time of awaking everyday, as opposed to the hellacious 6AM that I have to endure.  I can’t complain really though because my parents used to get up earlier.  That said so many of my generation however get to wake up much later than that.  Where has the work ethic of my peers disappeared to?

Obviously I begin my Sunday with the news, there is nothing else on TV although I do briefly come across some beach volleyball on Channel Four but how on earth do these people make such a titillating sport so butch and unalluring?  How?

There is no news today.

My day properly begins as I start to murmur and look towards doing some writing.  As ever it provides mixed results.

Around 11AM I head over to Sainsburys in order to get today’s copy of The Observer that has the Observer Music Monthly in it.  I like Sainsburys because, as opposed to Asda, it sells large cartons of Mars milk drink and its cans of fizzy caffeine drinks Bolt are much better than Emerge.  While there I also look at the cheap DVD players and the Philips one for £27 looks OK.  I do a quick Google of it to see if there is a multi region hack and apparently there is so I impulse buy a DVD player.  There is absolutely no fanfare attached to me buying this machine.  I remember the days when you would have to take out a bank loan and fill in all kinds of forms.  Times have truly changed.

When I get home and begin flicking through this month’s issue of the Observer Music Monthly it feels a bit lacklustre and then I realise/discover that it is to be the final issue of the magazine.  This really blows, all I want from life is a decent Sunday magazine pitched at my level.  The News Of The World supplement is just too moronic and the broadsheet magazines are too bourgeois.  Where is the magazine aimed at me?  Here is a demographic just screaming to be met/filled.

Scouring the Freeview channels I come across the free ESPN weekend and the mere novelty of being able to watch Ajax v AZ Alkmaar is one that serves me well, sees me paying attention to a game of football that I would otherwise ignore.  Maybe I should just put my hand in my pocket and subscribe to the channel.  Nah.

Today is the day I have set aside to begin Nicole’s university paper.  I have already scanned over it a couple of times, feeling daunted at the proposition but today with a can of Sainsburys Bolt caffeine drink inside me I tear into it when otherwise I would be undertaking some writing.  The actual accounts and cashflow figure work turns out to be a relative breeze, once I have reacquainted myself with the formats.  I am worried about the pitch of the paper, its only a small part of a larger picture whereas my financial exams were obviously more focused on being thorough and extensive.  I fear I am running the risk of coming up with a too detailed answer above the requirements which will then scream that it is work being produced by somebody.  What would Brian Krakow do?

On TV today is the third FA Cup game of the weekend in the form of Stoke v Arsenal.  Yes that is one big fuck off yawn you can hear from me.  Adding some degree of interest to proceedings is Arsenal having Sol Campbell in their line-up in a generally weakened team.  This quite frankly is taking the piss out of Stoke City.  So there is some kind of justice attached to them eventually winning 3-1.

Soon 3PM comes around and with it my routine visit to the parents for Sunday dinner.  At this point I have failed to complete Nicole’s uni paper yet but I have made decent headway on it.

When I arrive at Balkerne Heights the dog seems off, almost depressed.  What is wrong with him?  I ask the olds and they just say “he is down.”

The Sunday afternoon truly kicks in when I find myself falling asleep on my parents couch watching old Only Fools And Horses repeats on UK Gold.  Surely there is more to life than this?  When I reawaken realising what I have just done I feel slightly embarrassment by my lack of personal development.

I reawaken to the sight of Scunthorpe v Manchester City on Sky.  It is a fucking boring fixture to be showing.  Robinho scores and its yawn yawn yawn.

Things pick up immensely when while channel hoping I discover The Terminal on BBC2.  This is a movie that I genuinely love and now will forever take me back to the first time I saw it which was my last weekend stuck in Harlesden back on 4 February 2007 almost three years to the day.  That was the day I turned down the opportunity to appear on the Stephen Merchant radio show, which I half declined because things were currently weird between Catherine and I (weird on their way to being nothing).  Subsequently my experience of being so close to appearing on the Smerch show prompted me to post a message about the event on the Pilkipedia website and that was where I met Mindy for the first time.  And we all know what happened there with Steve Is King.  Ultimately that was a rough weekend to say the least but at the climax on the Sunday evening I found a copy of The Terminal on DVD, watched it and it was exactly what I needed to be experiencing at that time: a movie about people being nice to each other.  Sometimes that is all what is needed from life.

Eventually I head home to Sunday night and the usual blues that come with it.  From here I endeavour to finish off the uni paper but I fail, I’m just too beat to do it.

Tonight on BBC1 the Only Fools And Horses prequel airs with the horny one from The Inbetweeners taking the lead role.  As a result of such casting prospects look good.  Unfortunately the reality proves to be a drab one even with Phil Daniels doing a good turn as Grandad (and the Curious Orange is in it too).  The highlight (in our zone) is when Tom from Pappy’s appears in it as a petrol attendant at the beginning.  In the end it speaks volumes about the programme that I fall asleep long before the end.

When I reawaken Right At Your Door is playing and as I start watching it is towards the end and the climax of the movie proves genuinely terrifying and distressing playing on the senses, emotions and greatest fears of the viewer causing them to feel vulnerable in the one place where people feel safe: their home.  Quite frankly I’d have preferred to have stayed asleep.

Elsewhere on TV with the night heading towards 2AM I come across the closing moments of Quadrophenia and the ensuing bundle in Brighton with the side alley sex and Phil Daniels eventually shouting “Bell Boy!” in the most comedic fashion.  What the fuck were Mods about?  I hate the way a few people these days cling onto that trend and look.  I guess Britpop gave it some kind of rejuvenation and the longevity of the stagnating corpse of Paul Weller’s career keeps it going but ouch the idea of riding a moped is a feeble one.  What is this Phil Daniels night?

I watch the film end with the moped flying off a cliff in the sad realisation that tomorrow I will enter into proceedings equipped with less than four hours to put towards my efforts.

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