Crying while driving/Fuck you, I sort of had sex!August 19, 2006 at 10:30 pm | Posted in family, fun at work, nonsense | 6 Comments
Wales was boring, thanks for asking. Not that Wales is a boring country, but the shitty, decrepit warehouse-cum-office deep in the bowels of an industrial estate where I had the pleasure of spending two hours on Friday morning, was. And that, unfortunately, was the sum total of my Welsh experience: a 3.5 hour drive down (nice and quiet at 6am), a 2 hour meeting in stinky damp warehouse hell, and then five and a half fucking hours on the way back because some fucknut decided to cause a pile-up on the M6. Had to travel nearly 20 miles in first gear. That’s as slow as you can get, in case you don’t drive stick.
On the plus side, my car was sweet. A brand new Ford Mondeo TDi, only 24 miles on the clock when I picked it up. Sure, you won’t find it in the Kool Kar Katalogue(TM), but when you drive a total shitheap most of the time, you really appreciate a car that, well, works properly. I hit just over 100mph at one point, then slowed down again. The whole kids thing really nags on your sense of self-preservation. Responsibility and all that. I kept to 90 or less from that point on.
Also, I cried in the car on the way down. Not bawled, but enough tears to blur my vision slightly. It was the music, dammit.
See, Linzi had a miscarriage last year. At the time it was all happening, Coldplay had a song out called Fix You. Anyway, some of the words to this song are:
and ignite your bones,
and I will try to fix you.
when you lose something you cannot replace.
You don’t have to look too hard to see why Linzi and I associate this song with the baby we lost. Anyway, I suppose it was just a combination of the song, the beautiful quiet of early morning, and Jack being born recently, but I got totally caught off guard, hurtling south down the M74 at 90mph, when my eyes just welled up. That hot bastard lump, the one who sits on your vocal cords when you get upset, paid me a brief visit, swelling up the back of my throat, before I managed to compose myself. I’m a man after all. Tears, if present, must be fleeting. Blubbing and snotting is not an option.
There was an uncomfortable ambivalence in my thoughts; on one hand, I was thinking, what a waste, this person who’ll never get to see the world, while on the other, I had to think: if it hadn’t happened, there would be no Jack.
So in a way, I’m thankful it happened. Is that horrible?
That was the most interesting part of my day. The work part was shit, as you’d expect. Having said that, it made me glad I work where I do, and not down there. I get to interact with dozens of people every day; in the place I was visiting, there were about twelve people in the whole building, and they all worked miles from each other. I’d go fucking mental if there was nobody to chat to through the day.
Had a few beers on Friday night and told Linzi about my blog. She read it and loved it, but she doesn’t want to be an avid fan. Says it’s my thing, I should keep it mine. This is why I love her.
Friday night was cool because we did something we hadn’t done for ages: sat and played music and talked. When did we stop doing this? When did fucking idiot tv become the substitute for good conversation and music? It reminded me of years ago, when that was all we would do. I’m glad we can still do it, and we weren’t lost for words. It frightens me sometimes to think that this is all it takes to fuck up a marriage: sitting watching tv, together alone, knowing nothing about what the other is thinking.
I was hornier than a motherfucker today, like a frickin boiler with the pressure turned too high. Throb city. I swear, if a woman brushed past me in the supermarket, I probably would’ve messed me jeans.
Luckily, I wasn’t at the supermarket today. However, I did give and receive sex stuff, so fuck you, everybody! That’s right, fuck off! I don’t need you anymore, because John Thomas is back in action!
Yeeee-hah! And there’s still one day left in the weekend…I predict sunny spells with scattered semen.
Hope your weekend is going well. And seriously, don’t fuck off. I was just kidding. You guys’re great.