Wooden paradise

Some days I don’t know why bother coming in here.
A schoolboy error I guess.
When you’re not working why would you endure the lunchtime rush?
But I do every bleeding Wednesday when my Mavis takes the bus to her sisters.
I shouldn’t moan, I get a day without having my blasted ear bent.
A swift one in the Red Lion, before popping in for a sandwich and coffee on the way home.
Lovely.
Not lovely when I have to wait in line.
Who wants to wait in line at my time of life?
I’m already waiting in line for the big heave-ho from the man upstairs.
Most days my age doesn’t bother me, other days it niggles you like grass seeds caught in your socks so I ain’t waiting in no other lines.
That reminds me, on the way home I’ve got to pick up some more supplies for me shed.
I love that shed, it’s my tiny oasis of calm in a sea of Mavis’s chaos.
She isn’t allowed in the shed so me tinnies are quite safe, she’ll never know.

That shed is awesome though, a spot of insulation and some proper windows sorted it out, lovely.
That was so lucky, I landed on the feet there.
I was walking along Camchester Road, the big house opposite the park was having it windows done. Why the blazes they were taking out the wooden ones out and replacing them with plastic wood effect windows beats me. They need their heads tested.
Anyhow the bloke doing the job let me have one set of windows and a door for sixty quid, he said it was cheaper than putting them in the skip. He even dropped them round in his van.
It is surprising how far a fake limp gets you.
Mavis wasn’t impressed, face like thunder she had.
To be honest, she’s never impressed with my’s plan until after the event.
Sometimes you’ve just got a do these things.
She always wants to know why I won’t be sitting inside watching whatever soap happens to be on the TV. I may not have many days left.
Who wants to waste them in front of tat like that?