Tomorrow is Calling...

WTF as Johnny would put it. It's Midnight at the end of another half term holiday and I feel fucked. Have drunk loads today and don't feel that drunk. Me and the missus had one of those typical sessions where she painstakingly told me how everything in the world was shit; how crap I was at everything; how awful everything was for her. I'm quite used to this. I go along with it, express concern, apologise again and again (but not too obviously as that messes things up - contrition has to be quite subtle). Anyway, after half a day of this, interspersed with me cleaning and tidying I just flipped. I started kicking the hell out of a cupboard in the kitchen then went outside and whilst howling like a banshee demolished our piles of recycling (nice middle class Southern England touch, eh?). Smashed my fists into walls. Banged my head against dustbins. The full loony Monty. Q came out and told me not to be so ridiculous, think of the children etc.

Then it was time for our family sunday lunch. Inez my youngest was sobbing - she'd heard everything. Johnny my 14 year old who is now wiser than I'll ever be just looked sad and wary. That was a fun meal. I apologised as best as I could. The old spiel about how sometimes you have to go a bit mad in order not to go completely mad fooled no-one: They just think I'm mad. It's funny because in the general scheme of things I think of myself as really very sane. But it just goes to show, stir in 12 years of a rubbish marriage and 2 days of continuous nagging and moaning and Whoomph, anything can happen. I know how those mad hubbies feel when they kill their spouses/children/other road users. It is like there is a terrible in-balance in the world and it can only be put right by destroying things which are important. I swear that if someone turned up with a gun and shot me when I am in that frame of mind I would not mind in the slightest. Maybe this is how the Moslems in the news feel all the time?

Anyway, I bought Inez SIMS 3 as a small consolation for the Day Her Dad Went Mad. The Marianne Faithful picture? A naive fantasy about a time when it was OK for women to be good looking pleasers and not bloated ex-junkie pensioners bitter about their rotten choice in men. God, she looked good. Corrupt yes, but hey, that was the 60s.