Thursday, 17 April 2008

Men get on my nerves.

Current mood:  annoyed

Song Of The Day: Dressed Like A Dream
Well, the architect was supposed to be back from his luxury holiday today (having wasted yet another week of our lives in Grottsville), so Mum asked David to ring him this morning.  My father was angry that he was supposed to do something for us for a change, instead of working for no money as usual, but apparently he went ahead and did so anyway.  Well, there was no answer.  Supposedly, David has left two messages on Chris's answer phone, although I really don't know if I believe him or not.
So the day dragged on, Mum having caught my sore throat now, and me only just starting to recover from it.  I can swallow now, but there's a gland in my neck which is so swolen that I can't even tilt my head.  I wish I knew where I'd caught this thing.   I'm going to take some more echinacea now, before I write any more...
Right, I'm back, although my throat feels even worse for swallowing those wretched tablets now.  *Coughs*
Well, we dragged ourselves down the road for exercise.  Mum has lost a quarter of a stone already, but me?  I've lost one measly pound.  And I'm pretty sure I'll have put that back on by tomorrow.  I think Mum really was overweight though, and she still had the sugar-filled Lucozade to give up.  In my case, I've cut RIGHT back on what I was eating a year or so ago, and I just need to know the exercises to get rid of my belly.  But there's nowhere to exercise in this house, except on the communal bed, and then you hurt your back on the bouncy surface - as Mum found out the other morning, when I awoke to her alternately lifting each leg up and stretching to touch her toes.
David was supposed to be taking us to Woodberry to do more clearing up tonight, but somehow we guessed it might just be another false promise, so we knew the walk was necessary.  And yes, just as we suspected, David came home at 7.30pm, which meant that it was too dark to go and do any clearing up.
He'd still had no answer from the architect when he had e-mailed to say he was coming, so Mum said that he must go round and knock on Chris Picton's door.  David agreed.  But once he got in, and we told him to get going, he said it was "too late" (despite the fact the architect weirdo has rung us at that time, and usually asks us to go around to see him at about 7pm) and "he wanted to get his dinner.  Is there a problem with that?!"  Well, yes, when you've promised to do a job, there is a problem with that.  It makes me wonder if David had rung the architect today at all, and so he didn't want to go round there, for fear of seeing him and being called a liar.  "I KNOW he's not in!" David protested.  "Every time I go down the road, the house is in darkness..."  Um, but the last time you went down the road, the evil Chris was still supposed to be on holiday, David.   "I'll ring him tomorrow."  So yet another day wasted.  I broke down in tears again, and Mum got really angry.  So in the end David did go to the door, and we went in the car so as to make sure he actually went.
And guess what?
NO ANSWER.
Where the heck is the blasted, evil, scheming, thieving weirdo?  (You may just guess I would call Chris Picton worse in real life now.  I just don't want to lower this blog to a level where I curse and swear all the time!)  I'm in total shock.  I mean, what on Earth is this fowl creature doing?  Why won't it get in touch with us, and why does it lie about how long it's going on its jolly holiday for?  We're doomed, I reckon.
Well, I guess that's it.  We went to Tesco and Sainsburys after we knocked on Chris Sickton's (Yeah, there's a new name for him! ) door, but there's nothing I can say about those wonderful places really.
Also, Mum told my father about my bad throat and neck (connected to glands which are swolen because of the virus), and instead of sympathising, he yelled at me, "It's becoz ya 'ave tha bid-ram winda a'en aw tha toim!" (It's because you have the bedroom window open all the time)  Mum stuck up for me, knowing I feel the need to have the bedroom window open all the time because of the fact I have to share the room (and bed!) with everyone else.  For instance, I just went and made the bed before I started writing this blog, and found a clipped piece of toenail (obviously David's) on my blanket.  I'm sorry, but that's not a very nice or hygenic way to sleep.  I want out.  I want freedom!  But with the prices, and these lazy men, I don't see how I'm ever going to escape from this terrible place.
Ooh, and on the subject of this terrible area, Mum just found this page through Google ~ http://knowhere.co.uk/4096.html.  I just thought it might give you all a giggle, and also make it easier for you to believe me when I tell you about the drunks and gangs around here!
Right, I'm off to bed, to enjoy half a night in the cold, toenail-filled bed, while poor Mum sleeps on the sofa and floor.  Please let Chris Sickton return and tell us the £80,000 extra bill can be cut.  I want to get out of here now.  Enough time has been wasted...  OK, I was getting a bit carried away there, listening to moving music.  I can be crazy sometimes.
Best wishes,
Desiree  xxx

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