April 12-16th

This week started off with potential. BJ twisted his ankle on the weekend playing Rugby. My delight wasn’t due to me still having repressed hatred for him after Parking Ticketgate the week before but because he had to work from home on the Monday. In my head I was thinking we’d play a lot of FIFA, have a lunch and play knock down ginger. Unfortunately this didn’t happen because we are both no longer 12 and he not only has a real job but is also the most sensible 23 yr old you’re ever likely to come across: he likes indoor rock climbing, spends 3hrs a week ironing and bakes things with his girlfriend. By ‘things’ I mean cakes and biscuits not random objects or insects that would be far too cavalier and not sensible enough. So my Monday was spent doing nothing of interest in the same room as someone else doing nothing of interest. It was like he brought his office job into my living room; this was not appreciated.

My other housemate B (Benedict Pringle) had been working through the Monday and Tuesday night at his advertising company. I don’t know exactly what he was doing. Presumably he was trying to think of an advert to rival Compare the Market and the Go Compare dude. As a man who watches a lot of day time television I would really like to see a couple of different intermissions between programmes. Maybe someone can make an advert where the Meerkat and that fat, crap moustached opera singer fight: the winner gets to stay on TV, the loser get’s relegated to the advertising in the Evening Standard. The reason I was excited was that his long night meant he was going to be at home on Wednesday. He got in at 9am, I figured he’d have a quick nap and would be up at lunch to hang out: I was positively pumped.

I quickly popped to my parents to help them move furniture. Since I’ve moved out, I’m only ever required to go back to either move furniture or fix the computer. I get the feeling my parents wish I was either a massive tattooed geezer removals man or a spectacle wearing nerd. I’m unfortunately neither of these things: I’m bad at lifting things and clueless about IT but evidently less rubbish than my parents are. I got home at about 2am to find B had left the flat. I was absolutely gutted. My good deed for my parents had cost me a companion for the day. My parents now owe me a play date. From now on I will have to start charging them for services rendered but rather than money I want them to provide me with someone who likes computer games and is not a git. Paying me in a human being is probably defined as slave trading, however, if slavery merely consisted of sitting on a sofa, chatting and playing FIFA it probably wouldn’t have been so morally abhorrent and it’s abolition wouldn’t have been so widely celebrated.

The week, therefore, was one that promised to be fun and friend filled yet was mainly one of writing and Facebook stalking….