Plain Speaking

I wake at crack of sparrow fart. Up before my breakfast.

Yesterday I was under the weather. Today I am as fit as a flea.

After a wash and brush up I descend the apples and pears.

The kitchen’s a cross between the wreck of the Hesperus and the Marie Celeste so it’s my favourite greasy spoon for breakfast. A fry up, washed down with a cup of char, does the trick.  

All fur coat and no knickers? No not me. From top to toe I’m dressed to the nines.  Ready to step up to the plate. For a position that only comes up every Preston Guild it’s important not to look as if one’s been pulled through a hedge backwards.

The sun’s cracking the flags: good omen I hope.

My current job is minging; definitely past its best. I gave it my all but I’m older and wiser now. Let’s hope soon, when all’s said and done, it’ll be water under the bridge.  

The interview goes well: #nailed_it.

Not got the measure of the boss yet; bit of a Jack the lad or maybe a centralist dad? I’ve known worse.

Warming to my new workmates. Feel sure they’ll have my back and at least a couple have the potential to become NBFs. High five.

It’s raining cats and dogs now, but not on my parade.

Wishing I could talk to my one true love about my 24/7. Regretting, as I sometimes do, that we’re living apart together on different sides of the pond.

No one to raise a glass with. No celebratory slap and tickle for me. More chance that pigs might fly.

I have my share of friends as family but most are out on the town with their own plus ones.

Me? All dressed up with nowhere to go.

Home alone I surf and chat: lol, grt8.

Cream crackered now. Some chill time. 

Junk food and a glass or three of my favourite tipple – after all the sun is well over the yardarm - and a pint of Adam’s ale. Bottom’s up.

Feeling a bit tired and emotional; definitely Brahms and Liszt. Time for some shut eye.

I’m up with the larks again tomorrow and need to be bright and breezy. Don’t want to let the side down whilst working out my notice.

Climbing the wooden stairs to Bedfordshire I’m still as pleased as pie (and Punch).  

Just a brief spit and polish as the land of nod beckons. I’m zoning out as my head hit the hay. No need for the sandman to visit tonight.

Laters.