Welsh farts

I'm on the balcony of my new flat. it's in a quiet cul-de-sac in the city centre. A few years ago they put bollards up at the end of the road and it's eliminated all but residential traffic. There are a few shouty people, but lunatics are often energetic walkers, so their evangelism and advice rises and falls like a passage of bad music.

I bought a rusting old folding seat this afternoon for three quid from the junk shop down the road, so that I can sit and look at the sky, the trees, and the fat black cat who fearlessly walks along the wall separating our block from the council block opposite. In my old place, I opened my front door onto a corridor, which made it feel a bit institutional and stifled. Here, there is an outside. I face northwest, so I get the sun twice a day.

Yesterday I had a job interview for a railway job in C---. 7K rise, fewer hours, long weekends every six weeks, and the thing I want more than anything else -- a roster, so that I know what I'm doing more than three days in advance. (It'd be thirteen weeks in advance).

I was interviewed by two men, senior experienced railwaymen. I would far rather be interviewed by men. You can have a bit more banter with men and let your guard down a bit. The manufactured, pretty young women, with their nails and hair and smiles and cold friendliness, unnerve me. You can't break through. At the end, the men asked me if this was to be my only job. "Yes, it will. I've closed my Only Fans page down," and there was a bit of blokey chortling, with the knowledge that all three of us will be wanking at some point soon.

In the pub garden afterwards, a woman on the table behind me farted. "Fuck me, that was good for a woman," her male friend said. "That's why you're common," her female one said. It had me in tears of laughter. I turned to them and said "don't do that again love, I'll piss me pants on the train home."

I spent last weekend with Trina. The original plan was to go to Glasgow for a night on the bop and stay in a hotel. Rail Replacement Bus Services killed that plan, so I stayed at hers instead. We slept in separate bedrooms and mainly spent the weekend eating and drinking. I walked off with another man's coat from the pub, then in the morning, wondered how I had slimmed overnight. I returned it with an apologetic note and a lottery ticket, and he somehow found my email address and wrote back to me. It was all most gentlemanly. Less gentlemanly was me telling Mel nothing about staying with Trina.