Yes dear reader. You read that correctly. I’ll give you a moment to get back off the ground.
Before I go on, I must add that it was accidental.
So today was shit (see previous post), so I wanted to go for a swim this morning. Walked my pretty ass to the sports Centre this morning swiped my card and the fuckers wouldn’t let me in. Turned out her before 12, it’s for over 60’s only!!! Like what the hell? Surely that’s age discrimination?
So I tried to sweet talk myself into the pool and nobody would believe that I was over 60…. I don’t understand why!!
So I was like, fine….. I’ll use the gym. They wouldn’t let me into the gym as my membership had accidentally expired. So I’m all like, “ummm, no it hasn’t”, and they are all like “yes it has”, and I’m like “get me a manager!!”, and they are all like “ok”.
So anyway, we kinda, sorta have a resolution but I have to go home and look at my statements as to when I last paid.
I walked home and just lost the will to live and watched Netflix.
I then ate all the food in my house and hugged dogs.
So after a few hours, Chaplin was giving me evils and as he wouldn’t walk himself, I decided to be a responsible dog owner and take the big man out.
We went on our usual walk along the river Thames. For some reason today, Chaplin was filled with mischief and he just kept running about like a maniac. I took him to his beach and he just refused to run around at all. It was annoyingly peak tourist time/ peak drunk businessmen along the river time and I just looked like a total twat standing on the beach with a dog who refused to move. So to entice Chaplin to move, I decided to have a little run along the beach to get him moving. This was my first mistake.
Running on the beach with a dog is fun, drunk businessmen cheering us on was mortifying, tourists taking our picture was embarrassing however, Chaplin loved it.
The problem with sandy beaches is the sand. So once we were done, I needed to take my cheap ass fake Converse trainers off and get the sand out. Of course I wasn’t wearing any socks… like why would I?
So Chaplin was still expecting a walk, so we started off along the Thames again. Checking out the buskers, saying hi to children (Chaplin, not me), and swearing at runners (mostly me, but a little bit Chaplin) who were reenacting the psychological warfare from “Apocalypse Now” with their loud obnoxious music.
We just kept walking, and walking, and walking until 2 hours had gone by, and I was pretty sure we weren’t in London anymore.
My feet were killing me (and still sandy), and I had been playing the same song on repeat continuously that I was beginning to question my sanity.
So we sat on a bench and watched the sun set, and got a fucking taxi home