Only 4 months since the last one

Here I sit, crouched over my keyboard like a crotchety crazed crone counting coppers (money not police). Once again it has been ages since I wrote here, but I can't be bothered to apologise. I don't want to sound like Bros (ever) but I owe you nothing. Nothing, nothing at all.

I am perched on the edge of my bed, hoping to purge my slightly throbbing head (oo-er) of thoughts (not so oo-er). The sort of thoughts I speak of are those which trouble a 37 year old mind when one has had too much to drink the day before. Thoughts like "how many more days like that am I allowed before my liver falls off?" And "will I sleep tonight, now that I have spent a good two hours asleep this afternoon like an old man?"

That having been said, yesterday was a great day. Meeting up with a group of friends for lunch, booze and a stand up comedy gig was just what the doctor ordered (imagine having a repeat precsription for piss-ups and giggles, brilliant). The comedian in question was Dylan Moran, a man who has made appearing to ramble his way through his act an art form. Very funny man, particularly when he chastised someone who dared to emit a little cough which punctuated a moment of pregnant silence. "THAT'S NOT A PROPER COUGH" he barked, "PUT YOUR SHOULDER IN TO IT". I share a lot of his views, i.e. not really liking ANYONE younger than him/me, thinking vegans are just a pain in the arse and not believing in God. Oooh - there's a contentious one! Actually, is it? Time was, when it was quite unthinkable to not believe in God, much less being proud of it. I don't think I am proud of it, so much as think I am right. I am quite clever you know.

This blog tonight is like a car with no wheels, going nowhere fast. I am going to retire to my bed with some fruit pastilles and cack telly. I might try and write more often, this has been fun.

I've been neglecting you

Hello. It would appear to the casual reader (as opposed to the one over there in full morning suit and top hat), that I have been neglecting you. Sorry, been busy. So much, yet surprisingly little has happened. The title of my blog; letters from Canterbury, is now redundant, outmoded, Canterbury is a distant mammary (sorry - memory - it's not a far off tit!) I moved house in December to the sleepy town of Westgate on Sea. I say sleepy, Westgate reminds me of a fat teenager who won't get out of bed. "Come on Simon, time for school". ".................GnnGhHhH". Yes, Westgate is a lazy old town indeed, but it doesn't have night time emissions.

(I am actually going to stop me there - I feel I am losing control of this paragraph, that it has somewhat run away from me...one can just imagine the tannoy announcement in Tescos...."Would the owner of a lost little paragraph please come and collect him from the cigarette kiosk? He is wearing blue dungarees, is eating a Twix and keeps grabbing Carol and saying 'ooooh lovely'. Thank you").

Any way, where was I? Not Canterbury that's for sure! How are you? Nice Christmas and New Year? Like I give a fox turd. Hate all that bullshit when you get back to work. You are already fucked off that you have to be there - so why in the name of all that is sacred do you want to rake over your festivities reminding yourself that but two days ago you were up to your fat neck in savoury snacks, party games, booze and shit jokes? Beats me. I normally throw out the stock answer of "yeeeeah, quiet, ya know". May just have a tshirt with that printed on it next year and simply point (although this is fairly useless when you are on the phone).

Right, I am going to have some Sugar Puffs. Bye.