Arrrr, me toiling, work-weary hearties!
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So I'm sitting here, drunk, awash upon a sea of uneasy feelings swelled with only barely considered regret, head arest upon a body of uneasy stomach and swimming headlong against the tides of heartburn which even now lap against the tainted walls of my poor, ailed internals. Poetic I may be feeling, entirely shameless I am not. Drunkeness become me so, however. I feel I owe something to drunkeness to record my thoughts at this time.
Considering the pomposity of the previous paragraph it is something remarkable that I didn't choose the word "juncture" to end it with. This was of course after consideration of the following - this - paragraph, which of course now presents itself to us in the full flowing light of paradox now that you may (?) choose to dwell briefly upon the plausibility of its inception, and whether that, considering I constructed it purely out of the inadequacies of the last, whether it really is at all necessary.
But you find yourself reading it, and so, it engenders necessity by this very virtue. Smug git, aren't I?
I have just finished watching Pirates of the Carribean 2; you may be able to tell of this eventuation by the language in which I now relay to you this very fact...
*Insert drunken Cap'n Jack quote here*
If you find yourself wanting in this oratory regard then I can quite happily play substitute for any drunkeness you find yourself lacking in, believe me...
-
But enough of this: I have a point ot make, however coherently divergent it may be in it's occasioning. Actually no, I'm quite likely just rascally drunk and rambling yet again, but hey, whaddya gonna do eh? Hell just screw it, why not indulge a silly drunken rascal and keep paying attention?
Oh hey, Thanks!! 
What I was thinking of earlier in the day was a way to convey to you guys how goddamned f***ing tired I am; although surely the least of your possible concerns of course, but I'm so bleeding tired it warrants some explanation, and to be perfectly frank there's no-one I would care to impart this to other than your noble selves, as those I meet socially are all quite reasonable enough human beings to tell any a**hole who tries to pour their woes upon them to shut the **** up and stop whining. Although woes are not what I would call them, I'm actually very pleased that I have strained 90% of all possible muscles in my old worn & weary carcass, and naturally I would never dare imply that your fine selves are not in any way reasonable, although you may be, considering my last post here, rather less vocal than I would ideally appreciate 
(scream if you want to go slower, kids 
)
The muscles themselves have something else to say about it of course, but considering what I've gotten up to its not much of a surprise!
From the top, then:
Sunday 10th December, 2006 (hey, not many more times we'll need to write that year in the date, eh? Feeling old yet? Jesus, I'm 24 and I feel middle-aged already. I bloody well hope that by the time I'm 60 I'll have accumulated some o' the wisdom of the ancients - by the scale at which I currently adhere to I'll be a `wise-man` when I'm thirty and an age-old sage by by the time I'm about 42!)
So I had something mentionworthy chalked up against that date did I? Or did I digress in a blaze of parentheses again? Oh dear folks, you're really gonna have to bear with me on this hehehe
Sunday 10th: wake up at about 7:00 after a reasonably light night, and proceed to don walking boots and heavy coat. Whatcha up to, 'hippy? Oh dear on a Sunday? Really? Sickening...
I went for a walk, wel more of a hike really, across the New Forest. And I mean that when I say `hike` - 7 miles up hill and down dale (geographical nuances notwithstanding) and by God my legs were aware of it; every f***ing step; by the time I had finished.
I also cracked my now-immortal line in the pub afterwards; Jason asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I answered him cheerfully with "a wheelbarrow-full of dying baby Jews." .... The pub instantly fell silent in one those real `local pub` moments. Some people just have no sense of humour..
Monday 11th: I and two colleagues carried between us 4 tonnes of roofing tiles (could you think of anything more mundane??) from 'round the back of a church in Southampton to our lorry waiting at the front. Sounds easy? Well try carrying 15-kilo armfuls of terracotta miscellaney more than 150 yards along ridiculously narrow passageways, and subsequently across (through) 8" deep mud (remember the rain last Sunday night? Exactly.) and stacking them in crates once you've done it. Thats over a tonne of weight carried each, through heavy mud, and all while under the mornic gaze of a dozen dopey brickies and labourers who seem to care more about union membershop than doing an honest day's work. Thats a real *badgeress* of a thing on a Monday morning when you are quite well tired enough after the weekend, thank you so very much!
Tuesday 12th: not a lot physically, apart from unconsciously repairing my battered body and also the usual brief labouring required by such customers as we have at this time of year.
Wednesday 13th: Usual customer needs, like carrying 100-kilo railway sleepers and manhandling 5-foot-tall chimney pots into people's cars on my own, such as these damned customers are wont to demand 
Climbing in the evening, for 4 hours - and thats enough of a workout on it's own when you're pulling your bodywight around by your fingerips, and your bodyweight is just tipping the scales at 14 stone (196 lbs): as I'm clambering up a negatively-inclined spire of faked rock I ponder this, especially when the strains of Monday still creak in my joints!
Wednesday nigh also = drunkenness after the climbing. Given that I had only an hour between the us finishing and the time of bars closing I think I did rather well.
Thursday: roofing slates, several thousand thereof. Deep unrelenting joy. I'll probably have some kind of seizure soon and that will put paid to all that, haha!! (ho ho.... :S )
Friday, daytime: 3000 tiles - 8 tonnes-worth - of tiles shifted between myself and one other guy. I'm the younger (and more foolish) of us two by more than 20 years, too, so I was `going for it` rather more foolishly than the other dude. I paid the price that night; speaking of which;
Friday night; A club called Unit 22 in sunny Southampton. Okay well its not exactly sunny, but it alliterates quite well.
Unit 22; a metal/rock club, although I was unprecendentally pleased to hear so much more of the former and almost none of the latter Musical snob? Moi? Yeah it's a fair cop, book me in under charges of `taste`
Dancing like a lunatic for hours on end, and my legs and feet haven't recovered yet. I mean I was really going for it, people were telling me so the next day....
....after I went to bed (well actually, I went to sofa, seeing as I crashed at my old mate Ben's house) at 7:00am and went to work at 12 midday for another 5 hours of office monotony. I gotta stop doing that I really do...
Sunday= skirmish!! Good solid day's running about the place, lots of fun but bloody hard work seeing as I had not, as yet, properly rested since the strains of the Sunday before!
Monday: labouring with more slates, only a thousand this time 
Tuesday night: climbing again, several hours-worth of hauling my slightly overweight *albartroth* up cliff faces. Easier than it sounds, and it don't even sound too easy. Fun though, a good challenge.
Wednesday night: climbing again!! This time with those people who couldn't make it on Tuesday, and they need me to supervise them and sign them in (although one of them passed their individual assesment yesterday which was gratifying in the extreme 
Thursday, today: I'm glad we were quiet. Apart from the driving lesson I had I did very little of note all day, and after 10 days of hectic stress I am glad of it.
Shame I'm ripping the innards out of a bungalow tomorrow on the last day of work before Christmas, but hey. Whaddya gonna do? Its all part of the job...
*collapses*
N.B. Friday, today, I worked like a dog-on-speed all morning and my spine is now officially in another astral plane; at least thats how I reconcile the pain its giving me even now.
Ow.
Damn boss working us to death on the last damn day of work before damn Christmas, bas****...
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