A Boring Post About My Boring Dead Husband, Boring Ex-Simon Garottey (Part 1)

 

Seeing as I’m still having trouble thinking of what to write because nothing happens to me because I CAN’T GO OUT, and seeing as little Emily is still recovering from the Sickness so she hasn’t been able to come and see me, and seeing as Branwell talks a load of shite when he does stay to talk to me, and seeing as Lottie is too busy, busy, busy to talk to me in the first place, and seeing as THE BERSERKERS have been told to stop ringing me up for bedtime stories because Lottie’s been whingeing about the phone bill, and seeing as there’s only SO many times I can stick a poem up and pretend to myself I’ve written a proper post, I thought that today I’ll write about something I’ve been avoiding writing about – my dead husband, ex-Simon.

I’ll apologise in advance for how BORING this post will be – it can’t be anything BUT boring because ex-Simon was boring, he was VERY VERY boring, he was the most boringest bastard ever to have been boring, he could have made every boring bastard in every boring chapter of THE BORING CLUB OF BORING BASTARDS die of boredom.

He didn’t SEEM boring for the first couple of years of knowing him. Yes, he liked CLEANING but any woman with any sense in her head would skip down the aisle to marry a man who liked cleaning, wouldn’t they – I didn’t have to lift a finger, he cleaned ALL THE HOUSE, everything, he kept the place LOVELY and SPARKLY and HYGIENIC which was brilliant for the most part except when he tried to ban me from smoking in the house because he said I was turning the ceiling and walls beige and making all my books yellow and why didn’t I GET RID OF SOME OF MY BOOKS?

You can imagine what I said to that. See, another problem with ex-Simon was he decided, after 2 years of marriage, to become a MINIMALIST – actually, being a MINIMALIST isn’t another problem, it’s the SAME problem as being a BORING BASTARD because who in their right mind wants to live in NOTHING? I’ve never understood MINIMALISM – human beings are ANIMALS not MINIMALS and how do animals live? They live in cosy little nests and burrows and dens and holes and hollows and other snug places, don’t they? Except fish (and other water creatures) who don’t have the bricks or the fingers to build themselves a proper home so they only have vast amounts of open water to live in – BUT THEY DON’T ONLY HAVE VAST AMOUNTS OF OPEN WATER TO LIVE IN, they have the BOTTOM OF THE WATER to live in and that’s what they do, they sleep in a bed of cosy grit and silt and pebbles with little (or BIG) rocks for walls to keep the BIG FISH and other BIG WATER CREATURES away from them because if they went to sleep in their vast amounts of open water they’d soon be EATEN by the BIG FISH and the other BIG WATER CREATURES. And it’s the same for human beings, we need THINGS AROUND US for protection because if you’re a MINIMAL and your house has fuck all in it, WHERE DO YOU HIDE WHEN THE PSYCHO COMES TO GET YOU? 

Wanting to become a MINIMALIST was the first real indication of how much of a boring bastard ex-Simon would become before I finally sent him to sleep with the fishes (SLEEP WITH THE FISHES!! HA HA HA HA – get it?) I did try to compromise with him (I told him he could keep the little downstairs toilet collection-free) because I still loved him then (though, on reflection, him telling me to get rid of my books is what started the slow swing from love to HATE). I couldn’t understand why he wanted me to get rid of my books when he had a COLLECTION OF STAMPS that he was meticulous about. Yes, stamps are the boringest item to collect but the fact that he was a COLLECTOR wasn’t boring even though the thing he collected was. But (again, on reflection) maybe at the beginning I shouldn’t have been blinded by him BEING A COLLECTOR, I should have focused more on the boringness of WHAT he collected. Ah, Hindsight, you fucker, why are you never there when I need you?

 

I’ll tell you a bit more about ex-Simon later, the thought of having to get rid of my books is bringing on a panic attack and I need my beta-blockers and a little swig of  laudanum.

 

 

 

Dinosaur Eggs And Disheartening Disrespect

 

Today I was going to write about my collections of which I have LOTS and LOTS including two of my most prized objects, my DINOSAUR EGGS found in Montana about 11 years ago and given to me by dear dead Daddy (before he died of course, idiot). After months and months of debate THE FOSSIL BOFFINS suspected the eggs are SAUROPOD EGGS because they were found next to the skeleton of a SAUROPOD. What’s to suspect, FOSSIL BOFFINS? DUH! 

My dear dead Daddy actually gave me FIVE DINOSAUR EGGS but curiosity and scientific experiments involving hammers and drills and great quantities of arsenic based concoctions lost me three of them – in the scientific culinary experiment I attempted to produce a lovely, rare, black fried egg that Russian oligarchs and Chinese zulti-zillionaires would clamour to eat and pay me squidoodles of dosh for but it didn’t quite work out as I’d planned mainly because the DINOSAUR EGGS have become FOSSILISED and are just like BIG HARD BALL-SIZED ROCKS THAT ARE HARD TO OPEN.

Anyway, if you were paying attention at the beginning you’ll have noticed I said I WAS GOING TO write about my collections (and if you weren’t paying attention, why do I waste my time?) but I can’t write about my collections because I’m still reeling in shock at what I saw on telly last night – Amy Winehouse’s FATHER helping to sell one of her dresses on FOUR ROOMS. Granted, the dress had been donated to charity by Miss Winehouse before her death and granted, the dress was being sold by and for the charity – BUT WHAT THE FUCK WAS HER FATHER DOING THERE in the first place, getting his face on telly AGAIN on the back of his dead daughter’s fame, HELPING TO SELL HER CLOTHES? And I read that he said on his Twitter thingy that he’ll be SELLING MORE OF HER CLOTHES (he didn’t say whether or not it will be for charity). She’s hardly cold, at least give it a year before you schlep her clothes round the vulture’s lairs.

What happened to basic decency? And respect for the newly dead? In little Emily’s time people wore BLACK for a year after the death of a loved one and during the mourning period decent intervals of time were expected and adhered to before certain things took place, such as FLOGGING OFF THEIR CLOTHES. What happened to STANDARDS?

The word ‘memorabilia’ was mentioned in reference to the dress. I’m not even going to go there…

But, surprisingly, one of the FOUR ROOMS collectors had a conscience, the fat bloke with glasses who I didn’t used to like but I do now, he refused to make a bid because he said he didn’t feel comfortable, “IT IS TOO SOON.”

Yes, fat bloke with glasses who I didn’t used to like but I do now. It IS too soon.

At least if my scientific culinary experiment had worked it wouldn’t have been MERCENARY and PROFITEERING because my DINOSAUR EGGS are older than ancient, MILLIONS OF YEARS HAVE GONE BY SINCE THEY HAD LIFE IN THEM.

Oh, and the dress made £25,000.

Fucking disgraceful.

 

 

Packing Up My Collections

 

I have begun packing up my house. It’s a scary job, very daunting, but I’m doing it sensibly, a bit at a time, focusing on one collection before I even look at another. I started in the kitchen and you’ll be GOBSMACKED when I tell you that I have THROWN AWAY four whole collections. FOUR.

I binned my collection of 534 McCAIN’S CHIPPY CHIP BAGS.

I binned my collection of 211 OXO CONCENTRATED LIQUID STOCK BOTTLES.

I binned my collection of 4,876 DIET COKE BOTTLES (2 litres) which included LIMITED EDITION CHRISTMAS DIET COKE BOTTLES, LIMITED EDITION VALENTINE’S DAY DIET COKE BOTTLES and LIMITED EDITION 2010 FIFA WORLD CUP DIET COKE BOTTLES. When I’m in my new house I intend to begin a new collection of DIET COKE BOTTLES when they start bringing out the LONDON 2012 OLYMPICS DIET COKE BOTTLES. Yes, I’ve given up some treasures but Scotty said I can only take a few collections with me and it’ll be worth it when I’m in my new house and can SEE THE DIMENSIONS OF THE ROOMS.

And I binned my collection of 1,765 SUMA TOMATO PUREE TUBES because they stank.

I didn’t bin my collection of 701 FLORA LIGHT MARGARINE TUBS because they’ll come in handy to store OTHER collections in, such as my collection of 98,543 COLOURED DRAWING PINS, or my collection of 3,621 HISTORICAL TIDDLYWINKS (this collection goes back years, back to when I was five years old, and I still have the red NUMBER 1 TIDDLYWINK which I liberated when Susan Green ran off to tell her mother I had nipped her arm and spat in her hair).

I still have a few collections to sort out in the kitchen but they’re not huge. Then I’ll move on to the living room, then the hallway, then I’ll do upstairs. Generally I’ve not been panicking MUCH if I keep focused on what I’m doing and remember to take my pills at the right time. Scotty has been a great help, singing to me if I DO get a bit panicky or apathetic, cleaning all the shite that my collections have been, until now, covering up (I didn’t know spiders went HARD when they were a long time dead – the legs have been snapping off them here, there and everywhere and Scotty has had to locate every single one of them because I’m NOT sleeping in a house that has DEAD SPIDER’S LEGS all over the place), and all in all he is being the brilliant brother that he has always been.

Strangely I haven’t cried at all today, even when Scotty’s been taking the binbags out to the skip in the front garden. I just give my collections a little wave and blow them a kiss and in my mind I say a nice goodbye and hope they don’t think too badly of me. I’m surprising MYSELF with how I’m reacting (or NOT reacting) to it all and I just KNOW that this move is the best thing that could have happened, it’s come at JUST the right time. The one thing I’m looking forward to above all the other fantastic things this move will bring is going for my first walk alone. Can you picture me walking in NOWHERE? I can. I can sense the freedom, I can almost remember what it felt like to just GO OUTSIDE AND WALK without a care. Eeeeek! Eeeeeek! I can’t wait!

I’m going to go and whittle down my collection of 364 BETAMAX VIDEOS now. I might just chuck the lot out, I can’t even remember what most of them are since my BETAMAX VIDEO PLAYER broke in 1998.

 

 

 

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