Memory lane (dumping ground)

Tut tut. Very late post, but I've had a busy evening (for once).

The infamous T.C Loebell travelled all the way down from the windswept Yorkshire moors Wuthering Heights stylee, to visit Southampton and collect the rest of his personal effects. After finishing work at 8 the proceedings began, and we began by devouring a pizza feast. I allowed myself this little treat, considering I have been (fairly) good this week with my salads and bath loads of water.  I would like to say that it was glorious, however the good people of Asda didn't prove their Italian food skills as what was meant to be a Pepperoni pizza tasted oddly like anchovies. Gag. I'm tempted to blame the oven however, as the amount of fish that was baked in there is comparable to the local chippy.  

We were then joined by Amy, Nick and Rachel, Tommy's old neighbours, and reminisced about the good ol' days. Well, we told some terrible jokes. The worst being:

"Why did the girl fall off the swing?"

"Because she had no arms and legs."

The second worst being:

Van Gogh walked into a bar.

The barman said, 'You want a pint?'

Van Gogh said 'No thanks, I've got one 'ere.'

We then committed a quite heinous crime. I would say I'm ashamed, but at the time it was so scandalously hilarious the consequences of my actions were banished somewhere to the dark recesses of my mind.

We had collected a fair amount of crap in our garden over the year, which was added to the existing pile of crap that was there when we moved in. Broken chests of drawers, broken ironing boards, broken clothes horses...a lot of broken shit. 

So we had a mission, to extract the rubbish and dispose of it. 

Luckily, there was an option available to us. At the end of the alleyway backing on to our house, there lies a garage. An open, burnt out garage, filled to the brim with junk. So, we innocently thought, why not add a few more items to the little treasure trove?

And so, Mission Impossible stylee, we filled our arms with these sad, dismantled objects and sprinted down the alley. A quick drop off and we were away, racing back through the gate and into the house asap.

Mission complete.

Except we kinda got bored of doing that after the first two runs...so decided to lob a lot of stuff in the HUGE jungle that has become our back garden. Literally, I would not be surprised if a small leopard bounded out of the waist-high grass.

I realise that what I have done is wrong, but I would like to justify my actions as revenge against the crummy treatment we received from our landlord, who never EVER allowed anything to be fixed in our dilapidated house until we were literally freezing to death/rotting away of uncleanliness/going slowly insane from a constantly beeping alarm. 

HAVE FUN CLEANING THAT UP, BITCH!

I definitely have to be up for work at 7.30, work until 5.15 then mission it back home to Essex. I feel slightly deluded at the moment, hence this insane rambling that makes little-no sense. But I felt the urgent need to blog something, to keep up my good track record.

GO ME.

Night.

I