Humanity

I don't know why I was ever deluded enough to think that I hadn't completely lost my faith in humanity. I spent years being bitter at the world, hateful of people, despairing of mankind's attitude to his brothers and sisters, and the general lack of respect for the planet.

Then I took some pills for a while and then it all seemed OK, or at least they made it possible to accept the rubbish world we live in.

Seven years on and I've woken up again. And I know that I'm right to really dislike people. If you were to be asked whether you think the world would be a better place if a virus came along and wiped out every human on the planet, if you were really honest, the answer would have to be yes.

It's not just the damage to the environment, the wars, genocide, poverty, pestilence, greed that in makes humans bottom of the pile of nice things on the planet (below spiders, creepy crawlies and cottage cheese), it's the way people have no respect for one another.

What's brought this on? Has Sniffy read of another outrage in Darfur? Religious hatred elsewhere? A man-made disaster somewhere else? No, nothing so big in magnitude. No, it's just another occasion of somebody making an appointment to come and view this here house that we're trying to sell and them not bothering to turn up, not bothering to cancel, just not showing up.

So what? Well, it's nothing to them, nothing to anybody else, nothing really in the big scheme of things. But when you rush home from work to get the house sorted for the visit, delay preparing your evening meal because they've made the appointment for 7pm, when you do them the courtesy of taking the excitable dog out for a walk in the pouring rain so he's out of the way while they're supposed to be viewing the property, well that's a big fucking deal.

I hate them.

I hate them all.

Rocky hates them too because he's always made to go wandering the streets while we're having viewings. Sometimes he doesn't want to. Especially when it's pissing it down like it was tonight.

I have come to the conclusion that people who want to live in this part of Manchester are fucking idiots. They can't read, they can't figure out a room's dimensions from the figures. "Oh, this second bedroom is a bit small, I was hoping to fit myself, my wife, our five kids, and their grandparents here."

From now on, I'm going to name and shame any fucker who makes an appointment to view the house but doesn't bother to turn up.

Khan, Hussain, Jackson. I'm sure the list of shame will grow much longer before this house finally shifts.


Discomfort
The little plastic bit that cushions my specs on the bridge of my nose has fallen off. This is making wearing my glasses rather uncomfortable. This means that my allocated retail therapy funds will have to go on specs - a medical necessity - instead of an espresso machine (also a medical necessity, but not quite as necessary as something that will enable me to see).

Why can't I just see? People with good eyesight have no idea how lucky they are. My eyes aren't that bad, but it's just that thing of not being able to when I wake up. Imagine how good it must be to open your eyes in the morning and everything be clear.

Hey ho.


Delia
I'm watching Delia's How to cook on the Food Channel she's shown three different methods of preparing pig swill so far. Courgette, feta and something else somethings. Blimey. It's got egg in it too.