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In case you're wondering why I don't update my journal all the time, it's because my life isn't all that interesting. Maybe it will all change - maybe my bro' will elope with Emily and they'll go and build a house in a tree. Or I will wake up one morning to discover that I have turned into a weasel. Or I will win the Lottery, except I don't do it so it's not going to happen.
Oxfam was boring. We made about 98 quid. And that was partly because I buggered up on the till. Only approx 2 weeks to go before we lost the Fair Trade and become a bookandmusicshop...argh. What if we become a stereotypical charity shop filled with geriatrics and the stink of mothballs? It'll be like the one in the League Of Gentlemen. "Would you like a bag, dear?" Mind you, living in Christleton (my village) is pretty similar to the L.O.G., except there are less inbreds. Or are there? We do have a local shop, although it's not full of precious things, and when you go in there the woman doesn't say "Yeees? Can I help you at all?" and "This is a local shop for local people, there's nothing for you here." etc. (I cannot tell you how many times I have been tempted to say that to snotty customers in Oxfam). And when you get on the bus everyone seems to know each other. It scares me. We don't know everyone, but then, as taxi drivers who have gotten lost on the way to pick me up and take me to Loves will tell you, our house is nearly in the middle of nowhere. I envy Rob for living in Vicars Cross - taxi drivers don't get lost on the way to his pad although he does live in suburbia. VX (as everyone calls it) is the scally capital of Chester. You see them hanging outside Spar or Bargain Booze, staring at you with evil in their eyes. I suppose the equivalent where I live is the cows. They are equally as intelligent as scallies and have the same destructive tendencies and pack mentality - last year some of the bastards got into our garden and trashed it. I suppose the main difference is you can't eat a scally. It would probably give you food poisoning.
Oh yes I forgot - INTERESTING ALERT! Gina and me are going to see The Meddler in the Northgate Arms. Hopefully Gina will not get pissed and yell "I'M FUCKING DRUNK!" at everyone, and hopefully Simon will do his weird dancing onstage with The Meddler while everyone sings along to Who's Yr Daddio?.
A-one, a-two, a-three: "Marijuana iiis mah womaaan..."