Home alone

Ok, if I’m completely honest, I don’t really have anything to post, but I want to test the software I’ve downloaded for writing blog entries offline whilst we’re in areas without Internet access, so the miniscule number of people who are actually reading this blog are either going to have to stop reading this entry now in the assured knowledge that it will be a waste of several minutes of their valuable lives (unlike the first two entries) or plough forwards, hoping that I will hide some gem of insight into the human condition and meaning of life.

Right, now I just have the attention of those of you who genuinely have nothing better to do with their lives I’ll tell you a little about today. I’m currently typing this from my parents house sans wife. Siobhán had to head back to London to go to work tomorrow, whilst I stay up in Telford for one more day visiting my family before going back to sort out the hand over of the flat.

Part of the reason I’m writing this is because I am, by an unfortunate accident of birth, a Newcastle United fan and they are currently on TV in a pre-season match that does little to give me confidence in the season ahead, as part of the ever desirable Mallorca Summer Cup, a never to be repeated display of world class football. A tournament so valuable you even get a point in the league table just for scoring goals whether you manage to win a match or not. Indeed my father, a life long Newcastle fan, was even bragging prior to the weekend, at work, that Newcastle would finally win some long awaited silverware, but alas the abject display defintely deserves the zero points, bottom place of the table and mocking of the commentators that we are currently enduring.

On the bright side, the unpacking of the van today did not take too long and my parents garage and house are now suitably endowed with a liberal scattering of Siobhán and my belongings. Tomorrow I get to spend a few final hours with my beautiful nieces before facing up the reality of now being unemployed, soon to be homeless and edging ever nearer to middle age; apologies to all those of you who know how old I am and feel I may be a little dramatic, but if buying a sports car and quiting work to travel the world do not constitute a mid-life crisis I do not know what does.

On that note I will bid you a good night, speak to you soon.