Mr Moody

The mood throughout London has changed. The sun is gracing us with his presence every few hours, usually followed by an unforgiving hail of showers. That’s one thing I love about Britain, whoever is controlling the weather definitely has a sense of humour, you know the British kind, full of irony.

I woke up far too early, at 05.42am, I went for a long run. When I returned sweaty and aggravated I jumped in the shower before lighting a smoke.
I inhaled so deep and hungrily at the cancer stick in my mouth, that it burned the back of my throat. I fought back the urge to be sick and sat on a broken slab outside letting the cool breeze throw my wet hair out of my face.

I took a moment to reflect on the bad mood I had awoken in. I recently received news that the old man who I refuse to call dad (perhaps ‘cunt of a father’ is the correct term) is dying (apparently).

He requested to talk to his sons. I don’t know why I was upset, I have no good reason to be. I refused to speak to the poor bastard.
Mostly because I would have nothing to say, I imagined our conversation going something like this.

Father; ‘’How have you been son?’’

Me; ‘’Just peachy’’

Father; ‘’You still working hard’’

Me; ...

Father; ‘’How’s your mum? ‘’

Me; hands on fathers throat ‘’DIE MOTHERFUCKER!!!’’

That would be an ideal conversation, but I guess we’ll never know how things turn out as I do not intend on seeing him, dead or alive. And since he's living half way around the world I doubt that I'll have to make the choice. But then again, the universe seems to have a cruel way of surprising me.

I guess I can’t blame the old man for screwing up my life totally, I did a pretty good job of that myself.

When I was younger I had a very forgive and forget attitude. As I grew into my teens it became a forgive, but do not forget attitude.

And now...and now I find forgiveness difficult. And I guess I'm only willing to forgive if someone is truly repentant. And as for the forget? I wish I could. But the most trivial of things bring on terrible bouts of melancholy.
Kids playing football with their dads, a knowing reflection looking back at me in the mirror. And fathers day, that's the worst.

A moment later I jumped off the slab and threw on some new clothes, managing to cut my lower lip tearing the tags off with my teeth.

I allowed myself some dry toast for breakfast accompanied by a swig of some strange organic tea I had found waiting in the cupboard and some aspirin.

I left the house on my way to a conference which would probably consist of an hour of chatter and a riveting PowerPoint presentation.
I bumped into Tony on the way to the station, Tony insisted on visiting my local area today for reasons unknown. We shook hands and walked past the morning crack dealers to the station, Tony looking abit nervous.

‘’Is that booze on your breath?’’ Tony asked

"nope"

‘’Come on man you need a proper breakfast, you know....5 a day and all that’’

‘’Don’t give me that crap Tony. Your idea of a balanced diet is a bigmac in each hand’’

‘’Ha, I am partial to le amburger’’

‘'Please don’t say le amburger in public, or in my company for that matter’’

("le amburger" is a derogatory term around here)

We jumped on the train and were soon at the conference.

As predicted, it was incredibly boring. But they did have promo balloons and I never get tired of funny helium voices.

I went for a drink with Tony and had to make my way home in the rain.

I worked out and went a few rounds with the heavy bag. And for a rare few hours, I slept like a baby