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CHAPTER TWELVE – The First Law Of Averages

So... This morning I got up – it’s a traditional thing I do – went to the park to take Maxwell Wolf out for a walk. Another beautiful day but a day fraught with danger. What to do? My brain’s a turmoil. I’ve finished the decking so that’s that. I’ve finished the garden lighting so that’s that too. I’ve tidied up and taken all the rubbish to the dump. Done. Re-turfed the lawn. Done. Built a rockery. Done. Solved the problem of where to store the bikes. Done. (Large hooks drilled reasonably high into the wall – off the ground, protected from the weather). I’ve done more to the garden, played with more power tools than any middle-aged, middle-class Jewish father of two has any right to do. But now? What to do? (I’ve just heard that Barclays bank is cutting 800 jobs. Another potential avenue of pleasure slams in my face). So I’m in the park.
There’s Alexis. I love Alexis but... Incidentally, Alexis got drunk on Saturday night at The Grand Unveiling and was last seen hopping around the garden doing his impressions of how the great reggae singers of the 70s danced. “Dr Alimantado running on the spot! Burning Spear Lion Of Judah!!” Made me laugh. Alexis talked this morning. I wandered around, making lists in my head (1: Phone the mortgage advisor, 2: Go through the mail, 3: Check out the pond, 4: Phone up the accountant, 5: Press ‘Send/Receive’ on my e-mail. Harder to do than you might think. It’s become an increasing confrontational action. There’s either rubbish virus crap “Here’s that document you requested” type stuff has replaced all the “Enlarge your penis/consolidate your debts” stuff or things from either of the two round robin group lists I’m on. Take all that away and it’s down to the odd mail from Gill and she’s downstairs and only writes cos she can’t be bothered to shout. Hardly the stuff this super-highway technology was built for. Kinda like in the old days when the squliions spent on the space programme was justified by the fact that without it we wouldn’t have had the non-stick pan... Alexis just said something. I’m not hugely good at communicating in the morning. Maxwell neither. He beat up Dolly when she did the sniff thing. (Actually, I’m with him there. Late at night, fine. Mid-afternoon better. But first thing in the morning I can’t be doing with all that bottom-sniffing stuff. Maybe that’s why me and Maxwell get on so well). Pre-coffee, pre all sorts of things. I just like to get on with it. A chat with Maxwell Wolf is about the best I do.
Alexis moved off and I rolled on. Found a lump of wood that looked fairly useful. A sometime future sculpture. I grabbed it – wood’s heavier than you think – threw it over my shoulder in a new I’ve-got-a-pneumatic-drill style and walked. Sat down. Had a bit of a think about D-day and the death of Ronald Reagan. Well... I tried to have a think about D-day and the death of Ronald Reagan. Distraction tactics. (And – let’s be at least honest – it makes me look a little less shallow and self-obsessed. Pathetic really. It’s a bit like taking out gym membership. You’re never going to do it, so why bother. You can’t even be arsed to do 50 sit ups in your bedroom, so what’s the point.) Decided to check out Gil Scott-Heron again. “Well the first thing I want to say is mandate my ass”. Now that was a tune. Funny on Saturday night. Got involved in a iPod thing with Ian. Threw on Scott-Heron’’s Is That Jazz? And we ended up singing it together. “Brother Ron gets it on with a bassline so strong the sounds seem to glow in the dark”. Rubbish really. “21% voted for Skippy...”
“Morning”. It’s Steve. Steve I like but it’s more chat. Maxwell beat up Bailey. Steve told me about his day. He’s a film editor who’s thrown it in to become a window cleaner. Now that I like. “ I can get £400 or £500 a week without trying too hard. Do you need more than that?” Well, frankly yes but then again “If it all goes tits, I’ll cut a film”. Must remember to add to the list “Stand on a ladder and see how it feels”.
Home. The kids are still at home. Inset day. Lovely. I’ve also got an inset day. Might have one tomorrow too.