Jazzy D's Soul Notes

n a way I am glad that the madness that is Christmas is nearly over only to be circumvented by the nightmare of the sales. I am staying out of it, but distressed to observe that somebody got stabbed in Oxford Street. Utter stupidity , and for what, a pair of fucking shoes? Personally I hate crowds and would never venture to try and get a certain percentage of an item, which probably you wouldn't have bought in the first place, except that it was heavily discounted.

I did venture far and wide today though. From Canterbury to Paddock Wood via Maidstone and from there to Gravesend. Picked up a few cheap charity books and had dinner at a Wetherspoons pub.

I took the Virginia Woolf book with me (Orlando) to read and now halfway through it. I picked up an Oxford World Classics copy of Shakespeare's play Richard III, and another Sebastian Faulks novel, “Human Traces” (Vintage).

At the Robert Pecock pub I had a steak dinner , and then ventured back to base.

I could not be bothered watching T.G on BBC2 as , to tell you the truth, I am not fussed either way, despite a certain cousin saying otherwise. I presume that if he does diligently and sedulously scrutinise my blog then I might have to use ciphers to encode remarks that might cause offence to the sensitive soul.

Consequentially I am having to download Great Expectations to the hard drive as it classes with other stuff at the same time, a chore I admit when you do not have cable or limited to the main channels on Sky. Anyway I prefer not to give a fuck to the Aussie plonker, Mr. Murdoch and his scurrilous News International.

Oh and another thing that is grist to the mill, why do people on Facebook keep sending me invitations to games that I do not want to play in the first place? I would rather suck eggs than do that. matey!!

O fortuna, it seems I am turning into a grumpy old man , just like Rick Wakeman. Already girt my loins into a season of curmudgeonly acrimonious rant.