Tag: sunday

A New Normal Sunday

Hamar WilliamsLeave a comment

The Prime Minister still has his most special adviser standing next to him and holding his hand. Apparently he is a man of integrity who did the right thing. I must say the newspapers really played a blinder on this one. Release the first part of the story, let the politicians defend him and lie, before releasing the second even more damning information. It shows how powerful he is that he’s still here and hasn’t walked, he’s hardly going to push himself. It also shows how powerful he is that he’s clearly a marked man, the other side have gone into overdrive to take him down. It’s always much less obvious when it’s your own side getting excited and calling for someones head. When the others do it it feels exaggerated and wrong, like you witnessing another injustice. It’s remarkable how easy it is to get carried away with the baying mob. He’s still a total c**t though and I hope he gets thrown to the wolves.

I hope Sunday was enjoyable for most of us. Is life coming back to normal to the point that it feels like a Sunday again? Certainly there would have been a time when Sunday and Tuesday were indistinguishable but that can now be resigned to the past. Do we want normal to return? All that talk of a new normal sounds great if the new version was meadows and liberty but seeing as it’s the same mob responsible for turning all the meadows into suburban housing estates in the first place I’m a little concerned. We know it as shifting baseline syndrome or something, I may have just made that up, probably did actually, but it’s why people view Scotland’s rolling Glens as open and beautiful when they should be all dense forest, not the wet deserts they now are. Ireland will be the same. It’s partly the sheep and partly the industrial revolution. Now whatever woods there are are just monocrops poisoning the soil. There are some organisations trying to plant native forests again and they’re doing well with what they can but as trees are it’s slow going.

That’s it then on that note. I bid you adieu for another week. They keep on coming and they keep on passing by, each one a microfraction faster than the other. It’s a shame I don’t manage to write each of these a microfraction faster than the previous though.

When Will Saturday Come

Hamar WilliamsLeave a comment

It’s Saturday. Thought I would stumble out of bed a little hung over, not too much, just a enough to create edge. Have my breakfast which is more relaxed than the mid week one but fundamentally the same, I leave the dirty sexy breakfast for a Sunday. While eating plan all the semi-productive things I would like to accomplish for the day before leaving for the supermarket, ticking that off the list but being exhausted enough upon return that the list get scrumpled up and thrown in the fire which I made to sit in front of feeling like a wild man as the football results come in. Secretly I’ve quite enjoyed this lockdown, mainly because I’ve not really been locked down I imagine, but there are certain old habits and routines I miss. I enjoyed those semi-busy Saturdays. I long for the return of the football. And I’m currently not in the same house as the fireplace unfortunately. If that all sounds hard then don’t even get me started on the pleasures of a Sunday morning drinking coffee and reading the newspapers as my dog sits beside me and I’m surrounded by countryside. It’s pointless longing for things we cannot have but it’s good to be able to see the things we really value when they’re not there. I quite fancy a pint as well. Don’t give a shit about much us though. Although a holiday would be nice.

I miss my dog. She lives with may parents these days which is good for her because they live in the countryside and it forces them to go on walks everyday. People don’t appreciate the value of pets I don’t think. I can’t see her at the moment though because while I deliver food to my parents, I don’t let her see me because I won’t be staying and she won’t understand why I’m leaving so quickly after coming back. Poor girl. Poor me too. There are going to be some parties when this is all done. It’ll be a while until the pubs are open I reckon and people will be warned off getting together too much too soon but lets be honest, folk are going to go wild. We’re like school children at the best of times let alone when we’ve been stuck inside, away from everyone, sober and being healthy for what must feel like an eternity. I can’t wait for the outcry from the media, front pages of people having fun. Probably the same papers which will be a week earlier pushing for the end of restrictions. Theres nothing like a short memory.

I’m tired today. I was woken up early and now I need to go to work. I’m attempting to write this early now instead of tonight when I get in. It’s strange, sometimes late at night I get my best ideas. Maybe I should give up on being a morning person and accept life as a night owl. They usually seem happy. A little white and sickly maybe, but happy enough. But not tonight, this is certainly not going to be an old Saturday night. When I’m tucked up in my bed before midnight I guarantee there’ll be no nostalgia from me. I love you all. I’ll see you tomorrow. Fresh, awake, invigorated, just like an awful morning person should be.

Strange Times

Hamar WilliamsLeave a comment

We’re living in strange times. It’s Thursday today if anyones curious I discovered this earlier, I lost a day, somehow it isn’t Wednesday. Isn’t it great when we realise how little the structure of the week matters and how it isn’t actually real. Once Sunday needed to exist so we could all go to church and pretend we liked God, or use Sunday to rest from the drudgery of our failed work life balance. If God can rest then so can you. Then it appeared God developed a drinking habit because we all started needing it for enduring hangovers.

Some disgusting and healthy members of society of course love posing for photos with their dogs on hills but thankfully these freaks seem to keep to themselves whenever possible. Especially now the Police drones are after them, not to mention those machines they use to film them from the air. Now well, who knows, currently Sunday doesn’t really exist unless we take Don’t Call The Midwife or Dr Who seriously and I have no idea whether they’re even on anymore. I doubt anyone does now that we have tigers and murderers online. These days it’s anything and everything whenever we feel in the mood, porn at the drop of a hat.

And no football of course. Clubs, organisations and fans all trying to juggle the moral dilemma of how they can get the entertainment they want even though it will be like a shit training match in an empty stadium. One which must be shown as nobody wants to repay the billion pounds the sports channels pay to prop up the footballers lifestyles. Don’t forget social distancing. Two metres at all times. Gives a new meaning to contact sport.

Seventy-one year Prince Charles has recovered in a few days from his bout of the virus. It appears that while healthy twenty year old are keeling over, the old reptilian blood is still pumping. If madness, syphilis and inbreeding doesn’t take them down, you bet a little cough won’t even register. Doesn’t say much for his relationship with his wife Camilla though if she didn’t test positive. That or it doesn’t say much for this virus. I still fully admit to being completely confused by everything that is going on.

I have a healthy instinct to not trust the actions of my government or the bellowing of the media but people are dying. I don’t know how old they are because unless you’re young they don’t seem to report or give any kind of average age. For perspective people are still dying more from alcohol related illnesses each day but they insist the bottle shops are ‘essential’ and even more again are dying from smoking related illnesses but this is still highly legal. Let’s not even start on suicides, and don’t even dare mention the probable increase in suicides when people realise they have no future now that their businesses won’t stay open and they can’t feed their kids on £94 per week let alone pay off their toilet roll debts. But then the figures would be much worse if we didn’t have a lockdown and it has most likely stemmed the spread of the virus to a degree. I just don’t know anything. Everything is unknown right now. What an interesting moment in our evolutionary existence.

It is good to see the government admit after ten years of saying cuts are the only solution to saving the economy and society that no actually spending billions we don’t have apparently is instead. And don’t forget to clap your local nurse who you actively voted against by voting in this shower of incompetent, corrupt and dithering shite last December. Yes you fuckwit, you’re a hypocrite and you’re stupid. But anyway as I said strange times.

Sunday

Hamar WilliamsLeave a comment

Start with a wild assumption. For us Brits there really is something special about a Sunday. God’s official day of rest apparently and the one day of the week his minions get to join him. While the internet is a source of any fact desirable, accurate or not, the ninety seconds I half-dedicated to discovering the exact number of people not resting on Sundays wielded nothing, which means two conclusions can be drawn from what I have learnt so far. One being that people work on Sundays and two that I won’t be applying for any research positions anytime soon. From experience I can tell you there was a shop open this morning providing the newspaper to accompany my post-taking-the-dog-for-a-walk coffee. In that case while myself and God chilled out this morning, some of his devoted subjects, a certain number according to the internet, didn’t. Can we in that case really call it a day of rest? Is there such a thing anymore? Has there ever been?

A few years back I remember reading one of those ‘We’ve never had it so good…‘ articles which described the average work week of the average Victorian. Naturally any genuine point is long gone from my memory but as is the done thing I’ll paraphrase the ridiculous attempt at linking another time to the present with whatever my mind has made up about it since. Victorian workers used to work twelve hours a day seven days a week, or was it fourteen and six, but none the less they seemingly worked more than they didn’t. We are therefore lucky, don’t know how good we have it, should be grateful for being allowed the existence we’ve been gifted, and rude and ungrateful for desiring anymore liberty in our lives than we have been granted. That reminds me of a George Carlin sketch about rights, and I won’t quote him, more continue paraphrasing; they aren’t rights if they can be taken away and then something else which tied it all together and made it funny. But hopefully you get the point I’m very lazily attempting to make.

What a memory and work ethic I don’t have. Definitely not going to apply for any research jobs. I would never have survived in Victorian Britain. Anyway, isn’t it wonderful how technology has freed the people from drudgery and toil…I asked the lady as she gave me a newspaper in exchange for a handful of new gods.