Brennig Jones (and friends)

I’m trying to stay away from whining like a horrid whining thing.

But sometimes it’s difficult, you know?

Today’s been a crap day. Not the crappiest of crap days, but the readout on the crapometer is currently displaying 7.2 out of 10.

I sometimes wonder if I’m cut out to be a family guy.

You know there are some people (men and women; this is an equal ops moaning zone) who are not cut out to have a relationship – and, indeed, can’t handle them?

I’m starting to ask myself if I’m in the same boat – but instead of relationships, read ‘families’.

Anyway, as I said, I’m trying to stay away from whining.

So Vin came in lame from the field today. No cuts, puncture wounds or obvious hot spots and the trouble with displaying lameness but not showing how what or where is that without knowing what’s up, there’s nothing to treat!

I’ll have a good look at him tomorrow, whilst cursing him for doing whatever the hell it is that he’s done that will probably cause me to have to get the vet out on a Sunday, with Sunday call-out charges being so large that they’re measured on an interplanetary scale.

I hate kids; have I mentioned this?

No, I really really hate them.

Not all children, of course; that would just be awful of me.

I hate the little runts that don’t know how to behave and who blatantly ignore the ineffectual parenting of their ineffectual parents.

I guess I’m not terribly keen on the parents of said children either. Selfish bastards. Quite content to let little Tarquin or whatever run riot in a public place because they – the ineffectual parents – have learned to tune Tarquin’s misdemeanours out of sight (and therefore out of mind), whilst the rest of us poor saps have to endure the little shits ever-increasing boundary-pushing until things get so bad that we reach the point where we, the innocent victim of Tarquin’s behaviour, actually pick the little runt up and give it such a slap that it’s self-determined/built boundaries all collapse because one – one – person stood up to the little thug.

Except we don’t, do we? Because we’re nice people and we have boundaries of our own and we know what is acceptable even if Tarquin and his ineffective parents apparently don’t.

This, in case you missed the sponsor’s message which was briefly flashed up in a subliminal way earlier in the text, is a general outpouring.

It’s not a rant about any one thing, it’s just the final resting place for the large puddle of bile that has settled in my heart today because, I seem to have found, I am a generally bile-filled, and pretty horrible kind of person these days.

I’m tired.

I have no idea why but I seem to be hopping between states of barely awake to fast asleep and back again.

Apart from riding two horses a day, six days a week I’m not doing any other demanding physical activities. I’m writing loads but that’s barely physical, is it?

And yet I’m tired.

But not mentally, just physically.

Even when I’m falling asleep I can sit here and watch an episode of 24 and kill the horribly lazy writers to death for making so many shockingly awful – yet childish – mistakes.

So I’m up to par mentally – but I will concede that 24 is a particularly easy target (also a very rewarding one!) – and feel close to the top of my thinking/writing game.

My writing time – and indeed riding time – is going to get hammered from next week, as I slip back in to a piece of (my other kind of) work which will detain me five days a week in west London.

And I’m beginning to wonder if I get some kind of SAD. Or maybe I’m just a miserable bugger.

Which would be best, I wonder? To be diagnosed as suffering from SAD or to be SAD-free but to be forever labelled as a cantankerous git?

See?

And yes I am aware that SAD-sufferers aren’t necessarily grumpy, but that seems to be the only options on my choices list right now.

Bollocks, just realised that this has become the whiny post I didn’t want it to be. What an arse.

Speaking of arses.

Is there anyone else out there who was made ill to the point of almost actually vomiting, by Tony Blair’s statement that he would have made up other reasons (sorry, ‘pursued other arguments’) to invade Iraq if his tissue of lies about WMD hadn’t motivated the brainless/spineless frogspawn in the House of Commons to side with him and vote to kill hundreds of thousands of Iraqi civilians and over a hundred British servicemen?

Physically ill.

And disgusted to be a member of the same species as the God-Complex-Wearer-In-Chief.

Now there’s a man who understands the true nature of democracy.

Oh. But wait. No he doesn’t.

I’m all for sending the little shit straight over to The Hague for his War Crimes trial right now, anyone else of the same position?