You know Twitter? Well it gets on my tits sometimes. My approach to Twitter more to the point. I fill it full of people I loathe. The inarticulate, the mundane, the downright irritating. Of course interspersed with some wonderful tweeters of course. But it’s like a compulsion to me to follow people in spite of the fact they drive me mad on there. I almost thrive on the anticipation of their next tweet, the drivel they spout. The selfies, the “inspirational quotes”, the tweets of bad food photos, all that jazz. I cannot get enough of it all. The other day, Cheryl Fernandez-Versini tweeted some bollocks about your gut feelingis the universe telling you that you know best, never ignore it. Such shite. I just laughed and carried on with my life.
Sometimes I wish I wasn’t such a smart arse. I should have pretended that was 2007 Cheryl talking. I mean, 2007 Cheryl was my favourite. I preordered the album on iTunes and everything. But 2014 Cheryl and I don’t really have any relationship at all. I would almost describe myself as indifferent. Tuesday this week was an office day. The weather outside was a bit blustery, a bit showery, but much of the talk of Hurricane Gonzalo ravishing the county of Yorkshire seemed overstated and underwhelming in reality. So I thought I’d go for a run, take my phone and see how I’m doing pace-wise. Off I went out the office. “Don’t take your phone” something told me. Nah, bugger it, I thought. Few steps into open air and I felt a tear drop running down my cheek. Odd, I thought. It’s not like I’m running to the audiobook of Marley and Me. I felt another. Not a tear, I realised. Rain. Then it was like Noah had built the ark and the heavens descended to flush out the heathens. It was torrential. I felt frozen to my very core, it was such an awful cold I can only describe it in this terribly dramatic way. I cut my run short at about 3 miles as it was not worth persisting, every inch of my ached from cold.
I got back to the office and headed for a defrosting shower, I stripped and took the phone out of the waterproof pouch. I should more correctly say “waterproof”. As it was waterlogged and bust. Grey screen. Reboot it and you get text appear on screen like it is an old school BBC computer from at there early 90’s. Utter shite. So I have no mobile phone. Marvellous.
People keep saying “I bet that’s liberating”. No it’s just annoying. If you think it would be so bloody liberating, leave your damn iPhones at home one day and come to work and see how you get on. You’ll say “it’s been quite nice actually”, then triple check the next morning that you’ve packed your phone in your bag as it was a ball ache being without it. Yes, I get that the quest to be smart and innovative has rendered a phones primary point, to call each other, one of its least used functions. And I get that it’s made us all far less interactive with our environments as we stare into its screen. Get it. Agree. Noted. Wonderful point. But get over it world, we all love our smartphones. It’s marvellous I can tweet everyone. I love that bus journeys don’t have to be about having painful conversations with odd people around me. I love that I can think about a song, search on spotify and listen to it. I love that the world and its threads can be pulled together and this technical innovation helps that. And I miss my phone. Badly.
That being said, this bit of peace from the siren call of my touch screen has given me a bit of perspective. I do get too distracted to easily. I don’t really look around me very much. I don’t appreciate the world enough, instead I’m reading spoilers on digital spy about next weeks Eastenders, which I do. Regularly despite not having watched Eastenders since the days of Nanna Moon and Spence. But il still read spoilers. I’m such an enigma I can’t begin to tell you. Do you know what I’ve discovered today? A lot of my surroundings are bloody awful. Sheffield City Centre is a mish mash of terrible post war construction marring some pre-war beauties. Honestly, just start your redevelopment already, please. We are in dire need of it.
Quiet weekend planned this week. Christmas cake baking Sunday, and perhaps pudding steaming. I also bought a new cutter today as will do a trial run of baking and icing some biscuits in anticipation of the festive season. I have also thrilled myself with a plan to head to Marks and Spencer in the morning to buy their two dine for £10 offer. Which I haven’t bought for years. I used to love it, before they transferred me to an office the other end of town and now I don’t pass the M and S Food Hall every day. I miss it, and it’s facility to lure me in with the pretence of a sushi snack box and then sell me on chicken thighs, bananas, a small milk and 4 Twirls. Like it used to.
(Remind me to dig some muck into my herb bed too. My thyme needs a treat. Not flourishing, unlike that bastard sage. They must have rogue sage growing across their lawn 5 doors up.)
Nope, never frequent M and S anymore. These days it’s Waitrose that gets me. Guess what? Yesterday I actually went on and just got my coffee. No ciabatta. No yogurts. No teabags and a 72 wash bottle of Persil liquid detergent. No custard creams and a box of Maldon salt. Just my free coffee. It was such a moment of achievement. I basked in its success. Then went to Sainsburys on my dinner. And bought evaporated milk and a bag of almonds. So go figure.
May make marmalade too. After all I have a Fabulous new jam pan to use. And I’m looking for any old excuse to whip it out the box again.
Isn’t it fabulous? I know, lucky boy. My mother got it for me. She really should never call me from Home Sense and ask is there anything I need. I need it all. And then some.
But there you go, there’s no reason to worry, it’s not an issue right now. Whilst ever my iPhone is in a warehouse in Kent being mulled over by some technical types, there will be no phone calls for Adam from his mother. Home Sense fans breathe a sigh of release, there is one less person guiding a woman in her 60’s round your aisles in search of a lamp shade or earthenware. Well, for this week at least. Bring on the replacement, this is dullsville. I need more stuff to overspill into the shed, this is intolerable. How am I to make empty gestures about reimbursement of my mother cannot contact me from Home Sense or Home Bargains?
And on this note I’m off to bed. Daphne duty at 5:40am. A mans work is never done.
Hope all is well for you, faithful few readers. Don’t forget to comment should you feel the urge. Especially you, Ina. I’m very excited my Make It Ahead book will be dispatched very shortly. I’ve already taken my butter out to get to room temperature in anticipation. I’m guessing on the butter. There is always butter. And Kosher Salt. God I love Ina. Have I mentioned this before? Love her. And Jeffrey. And TR. Especially TR. Such a fox.
Right I must go to bed. So distracted. If I had my phone right now I’d be intolerable, I’m so distracted. Thank heavens for small mercies. And Hurricane Gonzalo, I say. You cost me £100 in insurance excess and about 2 hours trying to process a claim, Gonzalo. I’d shake my fist at you if you weren’t a weather front therefore incapable of registering my annoyance.
Night night world, blog later everyone xx