I think dementia is setting in. After forgetting of my routines on Wednesday, today I had another senior moment. I had been on the phone for about an hour and a half trying to sort out my sat nav problem - it all came good in the end and it now recognises that I am in Shepherd's Bush rather than California, but the fact it got confused makes me rather wonder if sat nav can actually work at all. Surely the whole point of the thing is that it should know where you are.
I felt a whole lot better once it was working. It's stupid how easily pleased it made me. I have been grumpy all week about it and having to work out how to use my new phone, but getting it sorted (along with having made significant strides in understanding my mobile and setting a Buzzcocks track as my ring tone - Ever Fallen In Love With Someone?) I felt stupidly happy.
I had some work on the radio show to do and also wanted to get to the gym and thought I would combine the latter with a quick cup of coffee with a friend in Hammersmith. I emailed her and told her that I could meet her at either 2.30 before I went to the gym or 3.30 after I came out. She emailed back to say 2.30 was best and so I went to make some lunch, confident that I had over an hour before our meeting. Just as I'd finished my cod and salad (I am so good - if you ignore the three nights in a row of drinking - which may have contributed to my general confusion) I got a text asking where I was. I looked at my watch. It was 2.45. I had somehow been convinced that it was lunchtime and my brain thought it was 1.45. I had been feeling quite pleased with myself that I had managed to get stuff done so early and still had so much of the afternoon left. But I maybe should have looked at a watch or clock rather than trust my gut instinct. How embarrassing and how much like an old man am I becoming.
I jumped on my bike and bombed down to Caffe Nero, only about 25 minutes late (or 35 minutes early if you look at it from my - admittedly wrong- perspective). Just as I thought I had mastered technology some of the more basic machines (like clocks) were letting me down and as I hastily tried to fasten my bike lock, even it rebelled against me and the rolling mechanism inside it kept rolling without me making it do so and I lost another couple of fraught minutes trying to get it to lock.
Luckily my friend found he wait amusing rather than irritating, but I felt foolish and annoyed with myself and quite tired out after cycling so fast (maybe if I cycled like that all the time I wouldn't even have to go to the gym). Plus it meant that much more of my day had gone than I had hoped and once I'd done my exercise there was very little time to work on the script. Which means I will have to knuckle down over the weekend. You know, if I can manage to get out of bed unaided and don't need someone to fit me with a zimmer frame and a colostomy bag, because I am so old and stupid!
But then it's lucky I am stupid and rubbish, because otherwise I would have nothing to write about. My stupidity is my fortune. I am like Jade Goody in that sense and also in my use of unacceptable racial language. Though even she never thought of Cuntshitterwhoshitsinacuntandtheneatstheshitoutofthecuntandspitsitinthemouthofadownsyndromenignog.
I don't know if that makes me better or worse than her. Incidentally I reused that entry as my blog for the New Statesman website, but they wouldn't let me say Cuntshitterwhoshitsinacuntandtheneatstheshitoutofthecuntandspitsitinthemouthofadownsyndromenignog (although Pakiburner, Babyraper, motherfucker and nigger were all acceptable words for them), making me change it so for them the worst swear word was mouthshitterwhoshitsinthemouthofaidsriddenmidgetsandmakesthemspittheshit
ontothefaceofadisabledbaby. I am not sure that that isn't worst than what I put on here. Surely shitting in a mouth is worse than shitting in a cunt. At least there are no taste buds in a vagina. It just adds to the argument that it's weird what one person thinks is too far and another thinks is acceptable. They didn't really tell me which bit of the original word they objected to, so I changed most of it. The editor wanted to think about it overnight to decide whether we could use the original word. I like the fact that it was a man's job to think seriously about something so stupid.
