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Procrastination Station #4

Weekend done, the gym has evaded me this morning. I will make an effort this afternoon, an effort to stir myself, but if it cannot be done then it cannot be done. One should listen to the body, right? Mine says "Sit down and watch Westworld" 

It also says "Hopefully this weeks Westworld will not be such a poorly conceived exposition fest as last weeks" 

Then it says "God, Hopkins is good!"

Then it finishes by saying, in a Joseph Merrick Voice (The only impression I can do well) "Why? Mr Treaves! A Shaving Box!"

The electrics in the carehome have been fusing faster than Lava in a soapbox. Some prig from upstairs has padlocked the fuse box, and refuses to open the stairwell door - the one than swings all night to the drug dealers demands. We lost power most of the weekend, I even tried to hammer the padlock of in a dressing gown.

The gown doesn't help the action, I just thought it was a keen detail. 

When we loose power, we loose hot water - which many social housing people believe to be the very base of the poverty line. The minute hot water is mentioned, they send out an electrician almost immediately. 

The electrics were fixed, and then fused some more times. I'm sure this will happen again today, and then tomorrow, and then the one after that. 

This morning I squeezed the cat too much and she did a shit onto the top of the washing machine - we did wonder why she was pacing around so much, but the squeeze - which was perhaps too squeezy - was certainly the final nail in the coffin of her discharge issues. 

Today's Proc Stat (As the kids are calling it) Is among the weaker of the crop...

...But wait. The Mayor just parked outside my window. The mayor of Newham it must be. I am typing this is real time. He drives a relatively innocuous toyota something, a blocky grey thing that should be holding a family but is instead shepherding his big chain of coins around. Why would he park here? away from the town hall (his home?) and on one of the dangerous streets. His PA meets him and he hangs the coins around his neck: one coin for each migrant family below the poverty line he has overlooked this week. He can barely more for them. Too many coins, too much poverty. He looks like a walking change purse. The PA takes his iPhone, and puts it in her small, black clutch bag. The mayor cannot be disturbed whilst he walks to his engagements. 

If I had a mind about me I would go and smash the shit out of his dreadful little wagon. Why does the PA drive?

I just craned my neck past the sleeping cat on the windowsill, to see that she drives a ford fiesta, and not a new one. Look at this guy, parking among the poor, using them to make his day easier. 

If I had a mind about me I would go and squeeze the cat until she shat on his Bonnet.....Car Bonnet, not victorian head piece. 

They walk away, down the road, down the road and past the newly lawned, rosed, memorial for a female police officer killed in action. A month ago it was just soil, tin cans and a dusty headstone. Now it's a small garden of remembrance. Nice that.



Procrastination Station #5

Procrastination Station #3