May 14, 2019: High

There’s a chance – quite a strong one – that some of our sleep could be home to some strange and disturbing dreams.

Not because of any pre-bed cheese ingestion.

More to do with the fact that the chief noise maker of noisy next door has just sat out on the back door step with his mate smoking the strongest smelling spliffs known to man.

And, according to Carole, having choking fits in the process.

We were just sitting in the front room, chilling, when we became aware of a smell of pot. Not a casual whiff. But a strong, almost chewable smell as if one of us was actually smoking it.

I mean, we have to investigate. But we also had to shut all the windows and push the back door shut because… geez. But, not moments before, we’d hung out a damp duvet having washed the cat-bile off of it. So that damp duvet is now absorbing all the smells on offer.

I don’t understand it either because the smokers generally don’t seem to think that there’s any smell to be had. Like they’re just being cheeky little scamps, smoking the naughty stuff and no-one will know what they’re up to. And yet… we’re off our tits in the front room, feeling even more chilled out than before and we’re not even smoking anything.

We think that mother noisy neighbour is currently away, so chief noisy neighbour is currently living his best life – impressing girls, cooking chips and getting high.

Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

For us, it might be a hallucinogenic duvet. So there’s that.

May 13, 2019: Years

I had a thought last night, just as I was going to bed, and I literally couldn’t get to sleep for ages because I was thinking about it. And it still haunts me now.

The rest of this post probably contains minor spoilers for Endgame. So if you’ve not seen it stop reading. And if you have seen it, carry on reading and roll your eyes at me all you want because I’ve missed a salient point somewhere along the line.

So, the main bulk of Endgame takes place five years after the snap. We know that. It says it in big slowly forming letters to signify the passing of time. Things have changed. Cassie Lang is older, Tony Stark has a family with Pepper and, of course, Black Widow’s hair is a different colour because Black Widow.

Five years.

And then they do the thing with the thing and the other thing and stuff happens and they make a snap and usher everyone back into existence. With the caveat that they can’t change anything that has happened in the interim – it’s important to Tony, he doesn’t want to lose his daughter. So that happens as is confirmed at the end because Cassie is still older, Tony’s daughter is still alive. It’s all good.

Are we still five years down the line at this point?

This is where I get confused.

Because Peter Parker just goes back to school. And everyone’s still there. Same age and everything. If anything, everyone should be five years older and Pete has to make a load of new friends like he’s been held back a bit.

Have I missed a bit of explanation. Is it because Thanos’ snap never happens by virtue of the fact Thanos travels to the future to attack everyone there and so doesn’t do it in the past? But then if that’s the case, Pete comes back and says that it’s been five years and…

Anyway, basically I couldn’t get to sleep because I couldn’t get my head round the Peter Parker going back to school thing. Not to mention how immediately after undusting, the school just plans a trip to Europe.

I know it’s probably to do with the timey-wimey, spacey-wacey stuff and it probably all does make sense and I just missed one vital line of dialogue that my brain is now struggling to cope without.

I mean, the other thing is, I’m also not bothered. I am bothered, but I’m not. I’m not bothered to the point where I’d start watching and/or making those YouTube videos about things you missed in Endgame or, one I saw “fifteen jokes that went over your head in Endgame” because yes, I’m a nerd. But I want to be a nerd that is liked and not one who is so anal about all those things.

And yes, it kept me awake last night. But I know that when I sit in the cinema to watch Far From Home all that will just vanish and I’ll be a happy viewer again, just like I was at the end of Endgame when Pete meandered back into school and saw his friend again.

But still though… five years…

May 12, 2019: Pressure

The shed is finally sorted out.

It’s like some sort of Christmas miracle.

In a move designed to get Carole to chill out a little after her OU coursework, and pressures of work, started to weigh down on her we’ve had a day of just chilled pottering, doing and playing. Just things away from the rigors of work life.

And it’s been lovely.

But more importantly, we’ve finally cleared all the crap out of the shed.

I won’t lie, but I have enjoyed smashing up shelving units that I have been moving round for years. And enjoyed it even more as I went at one of the shelves with a hammer only to find that it had in fact been screwed together and I could have just unscrewed it all. I just didn’t know that because the screw covers had been painted over and were firing off the shelving units like bullets with ever smash of the hammer.

But everything’s broken up and off to the tip.

The shed is just a leaning death trap with the bare essentials now and not a gazillion collections of nothing in particular.

It’s genuinely a relief.

And while I was releasing any pent up tension, Carole was just chilling with a bit of weeding. Well, the Director’s Commentary version of weeding, where everything she did was announced as she did it. But hey, today was her day. It was about stopping her becoming a complete fruit loop around the subject of referencing in essays. Something which, only a couple of hours before, looking like it was well on the way to happening.

It’s funny – I’m much better at managing Carole’s mental health – by which I mean stopping her going mental – than I am at my own…

Those who can’t, and all that…

May 11, 2019: Warm

We’ve reached that point that comes in every British summer, when the media starts to report on places that will be a little bit colder than the UK. Next week, things are set to warm up over here (compared to now, I think, rather than frying an egg on the pavements kind of warming up) but we’re already rolling out the places we’ll be hotter than.

Yesterday the headline was we’d beat Corfu.

Today, Corfu Schmorfu… it’s Rio baby.

Which is much better because you instantly think hot when people say Rio. Or you think of the cartoon with the parrots in it. But also the heat as well.

So the UK will be hotter than Rio. And it’s this sort of stuff we’ll need to focus on in a post-Brexit dystopian future when no-one can leave the country because of cripplingly high Visa fees and everyone has to have a staycation.

“We could be in Rio, but we’d be colder than here!” families will say, trying to put a positive spin on the fact that they’re in an hour long queue at Blackpool Pleasure Beach.

Not that you’d know it looking at today’s weather though. Based on today, alone, you wouldn’t think Rio-smashing tempartures were on the cards at all.

We have had every weather today. Sun, rain, wind, hail, thunder… basically all the major meteorological symbols you’d find on an old BBC weather map circa 1970. And it was that sort of annoying day where you have to wear a coat but it’s also too warm to wear a coat.

I bet they don’t have this trouble in Rio…

May 10, 2019: Hat

I’ve never really been a fan of Danny Baker.

Even way back when I never used to find him particularly clever or amusing. He was always one of those people who assumed themselves to be the funniest, or the most interesting or whatever, by virtue of the fact that he was the loudest.

So when he got sacked yesterday for his “allegedly” racist tweet about the new Royal baby leaving the hospital – two humans escorting a small monkey from a building – it was all I could do not to chuckle.

And it’s still a chuckle now, as he seems to have spent the last 24-hours coming up with more and more outlandish reasons as to why he didn’t know what he was doing could be construed as a teensy bit racist. My favourite, of yesterday, is that it’s because he didn’t have a diseased mind and so could see no harm in a funny picture.

I mean, this is Danny Baker. Who speaks out on all sorts of shite, all the time, whenever he gets a chance. And now he claims to not know how the world works.

But all of that is as of nothing to the greatest question we are faced with in the midst of this news story.

Why is he answering the door looking like he’s halfway through a cos-play as Uncle Bulgaria off of the Wombles.

What’s going on with the hat? I mean, honestly. It’s like he’s got up and said, “I will remove the smoking jacket in case they take pictures, but I will not be removing the hat…”