This morning was a wet one. It didn’t start out that way initially, but it wasn’t long before I noticed that I was splashing around in a puddle inside the van. This could only be one of two things. A hole in the roof or I’ve missed the toilet. Not wanting to do the taste or sniff test, I set about soaking it up with kitchen roll. It wasn’t yellow so that was a relief.
I had a busy day planned, so set about washing my dad bod and doing my pearly whites and all that malarkey. I tipped the bowl down the sink and thought that sounds weird. Not the usual slow gurgle, more like a woosh and slurp. Within seconds the sink was empty. Odd, I thought. Anyway my hair was next so I got dressed, filled the bowl up with England’s finest spring water (£1.40 for 5 litres from Tesco) and dunked my head in the ice cold mountain fresh water, a good squirt of the ole Lynx Africa and away I went. Spring water is remarkably PH neutral so of course it was a nightmare to rinse the ever consuming bubbles from my hair. Approximately 4 litres of water down the still odd sounding sink it was out. I turned around and quicker than a toupee in a hurricane, I was on the floor. Splashing around once again!
How has this happened? What sorcery has been performed to cause my van to flood once again without me noticing? There was only one possible answer. The grey waste can was full. I splashed the two steps to the cupboard and opened the door to a sight worse than I could ever have thought. The pipe wasn’t even in the can. It was hanging next to it happily pouring it’s contents on the floor without a care in the world! But not just on the floor, all over the tins and cereal and everything else in there...
Several towels and more swear words than a cheap Russian porno later, I set off to do the days task which involved a bit of driving. My van is heavy. And slow. Driving it is a monstrous, arduous task at the best of times but the state of the roads travelled today really took it out of both myself and the van contents. Every ten miles a drawer would unlatch itself and slide out, spewing the contents all over the floor. Every ten miles or so I stopped and repeatedly cleared up the mess, even getting the hoover out twice to suck up the sugar. Sachets from now on I think.
The return journey was equally as terrible, to the point where I lost my temper a tiny bit and gently placed the drawers on the floor myself, securing them with a fucking great kick. A silent journey resumed, and I returned to my spot just in time to watch the sun set across the fields.
Tonight’s sunset was a special one. The sky was a blaze with oranges, purples, reds with bright blues through the middle. It was a contemplating sunset. One of those ones that you watch intently, trying to spot the colours changing and the clouds moving graciously across the darkening sky. I breathed gently, letting all of the previous months stresses and strains escape across the horizon, watching them disappear with the colours in the clouds.
I shall leave you with this image of the sunset, and if you look closely in the top right hand corner, you’ll see all of my fucks gathered there, slowly being consumed by the fading light. Fly away fucks, you are no longer required.
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