I've Got My Park Bench

I've Got My Park Bench

I tend to choose the benches on this side of the park. The side with the library on. At least, that’s where I go when the evenings start getting longer and we get more sun. The view is just nicer, more grass. 

    It wasn’t bad as days go, but most days aren’t much to write home about. Woke up early, again. Missed the bus, again. Got in late, again. Same old. Managed to bunk off a bit early though because Janet had to pick her boy up from a school trip and left at 3:30. So it was the 3:40 bus from Montpelier Road for me. Lots of daylight left. 

    In the winter I’ll go to Costa until close and then migrate to the tattoo shop on Westway, where they don’t mind if I sit in and have a beer with them. Nice guys there, makes me feel like I’m at university or in a band or something. When it gets to May I usually commit to staying outside and enjoying the solitude. The guys understand, they get it. 

    With some practice, I’ve become good at making a single 200ml bottle of Stella last the four hours it needs to. That way I won’t become an alcoholic. Dependent. I’m definitely not dependent. If anything I’m independent, for choosing to make this time for myself. It’s all about setting boundaries, said @yuridevnovofficial. And that’s what I’m doing. This is my place. That is her place… when I’m out. 

    For about six years she’s worked nights and that suits me just fine. More than fine, actually: it means I get to go home and cook some pasta for dinner, rather than cycling through the meal deals at Tesco five nights a week. I think she prefers it too, but it makes the shopping a c*nt to organise. I’ll usually just leave twenty quid on the work surface when I head to the church on Saturday morning. Then when I come back from the church on Sunday afternoons the kitchen is stocked up with penne and pesto again. I’m not religious, but I’m trying lately.

We have an understanding: separate beds, shared bathroom, she takes care of the shopping, I do the clothes. The bills are always split in half. I do leccy, she does gas. No TV license. It just seems to work for the both of us. 

Things have been this way since. Well, since she f*cked the postman and they “accidentally” had a siesta that synced up perfectly with me getting home from work. But that’s another story. What I mean to say is that we are both different people. We both have our own things going on. She’s got her… things. And I’ve got my park bench. 

Tonight I’ll probably stay out until I have to zip up my fleece. She’ll be gone by 6 and the sun will be down by 8:30. So the 15 minute walk back to the house will be soaked in that lovely pinkish colour that makes the school-girls fake tan look real. I’ll get in, have a w*nk, put in a dark load and go to bed. At the moment I’m reading Peace is Every Step by Thich Nhat Hanh. They say reading before bed is a good habit to get into because it reduces the amount of blue light you’re consuming. I’ve been on page 46 for about six weeks.