Monday, July 03, 2006
Holy moly, I can hardly believe what's happened. Jays' parents request his presence this weekend, insisting that he come on the train because they have a suprize for him.
Well, we speculate. What can it be? He decides that as the only thing we really really want, that has to be driven, is a camper van, then perhaps, that is what will be...
I keep saying though, that no, this would be just to good to be true, why would anyone do something so brilliant for us? Nothing that good ever happens.
Indeed. Saturday night I get a text..."It's like the footie babe, not what we hoped for"
But the football's fecking shit I say to myself, 'cos we're all still really down in the flat from the England defeat...What could be that shit?
So Jay returns yesterday with the 'suprise', and as we're walking down the road to see it, he's saying stuff like, 'I think you're gonna freak out...please don't freak out...it's not exactly...er...
And it's some sort of ridiculous, posturing, gas guzzling, planet busting 4x4, the type the most selfish twattish people of all drive.
Sell it. I say. You must sell it immediately.
Of course he says, it's not that simple , because he feels somehow oblidged to run it for a while, as his dad has even paid for the insurance, and apparently, it's not even worth that much...and it's all too awkward.
Well I'm not going in it, I say.
Well, we speculate. What can it be? He decides that as the only thing we really really want, that has to be driven, is a camper van, then perhaps, that is what will be...
I keep saying though, that no, this would be just to good to be true, why would anyone do something so brilliant for us? Nothing that good ever happens.
Indeed. Saturday night I get a text..."It's like the footie babe, not what we hoped for"
But the football's fecking shit I say to myself, 'cos we're all still really down in the flat from the England defeat...What could be that shit?
So Jay returns yesterday with the 'suprise', and as we're walking down the road to see it, he's saying stuff like, 'I think you're gonna freak out...please don't freak out...it's not exactly...er...
And it's some sort of ridiculous, posturing, gas guzzling, planet busting 4x4, the type the most selfish twattish people of all drive.
Sell it. I say. You must sell it immediately.
Of course he says, it's not that simple , because he feels somehow oblidged to run it for a while, as his dad has even paid for the insurance, and apparently, it's not even worth that much...and it's all too awkward.
Well I'm not going in it, I say.
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