"When I was setting out the barbecue stuff this morning, I thought some red, green and yellow peppers in with the display would look good. Then I thought fuck it I cor be bothered".
These were Bob's first words this morning when I arrived with the barbecue flyers.
Bob loved them, especially the socks and sandals chef. So impressed, he was motivated to cut up his peppers after all and merchandise his display.
I shan't be barbecuing this weekend, it's bit difficult in a flat, but I shall be stir frying at some point. I bought fresh noodles and bean shoots yesterday, I've a Thai Basil and Lemon grass pouch of sauce and some lean strips of beef care of Bob.
Pleased to say the buses were all running to time, so my journey was quite stress free for a change.
Something I only noticed yesterday, was the nutter next door with the washing machine that was on at all hours and whose vibrations working their way through to my kitchen caused several crashes of my crockery onto the floor, has gone.
Not sure if she's done a bunk. She's taken her bloody washer with her at least. No such luck the animals upstairs going. They've been up to all sorts this week, including what sounded like hammering a nail into the wall at 3:15 am. They are usually spent by 4 in the morning and you won't hear anything much before noon. Sort of behaviour you come to expect from someone who lives on a diet of KFC and pizzas (as witness the packaging filling the bins).
Harry Enfield's Wayne and Waynetta Slob or Matt Lucas' Vicky Pollard may be funny on TV, but it's not so amusing to live in close proximity to the real thing
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