I can handle the heroin and alcohol.... however the Roller Derby may be the killer.
I’ve never been to Dallas. Then again I’d never been to Newham, Wood Green or Seven Sisters. I had no need to. Then again, before Roller Derby I had no need to do a lot of things. Evenings were spent, drinking wine, going to the pub or watching television. Weekends were spent shopping, doing a spot of DIY, making sure the garden was well maintained and the neighbours were happy. Normal things to maintain the status quo.
Looking in the fridge, it’s bare. Random foodstuffs that while, and with some creativity, could make a meal, for some reason just don’t. An essential ingredient is missing or is woefully out of date. Should I use it? If I scrape the fluff and mould off it may be edible. It’d give me enough energy to keep me going for another day.
The view from the kitchen window is of equal despair. The garden, once, while not a pride and joy, was at least reasonable. Now an overgrown monstrosity. On a map it would be marked as ‘here be monsters’. Every time I look at it, it fills me with an air of dread and depression. The over grown hedge with wild barbs that would rip my flesh from my arms puts me off from leaving the sanctuary of my home.
However the home is equally depressing, the bookshelf promising to commit suicide by falling off the wall, bringing down the books and smashing whatever is below. The materials to box in the boiler, still stacked up in the corner, gathering dust, waiting to be used. DIY I had good intentions of doing but never got around to.
And why are these things not getting done?
Roller Derby and the people involved in it are addictive, as much as heroin or alcohol. It should carry a health warning. And while it may not be as damaging to one’s health, it certainly is to one’s wealth. And so in 2014 it’ll be time to ignore my bank manager’s advice and head out to Dallas to cover the second Roller Derby World Cup. Because if I didn’t I’d just be sitting at home, drinking wine, doing DIY, weeding the garden and mentally kicking myself.
Looking in the fridge, it’s bare. Random foodstuffs that while, and with some creativity, could make a meal, for some reason just don’t. An essential ingredient is missing or is woefully out of date. Should I use it? If I scrape the fluff and mould off it may be edible. It’d give me enough energy to keep me going for another day.
The view from the kitchen window is of equal despair. The garden, once, while not a pride and joy, was at least reasonable. Now an overgrown monstrosity. On a map it would be marked as ‘here be monsters’. Every time I look at it, it fills me with an air of dread and depression. The over grown hedge with wild barbs that would rip my flesh from my arms puts me off from leaving the sanctuary of my home.
However the home is equally depressing, the bookshelf promising to commit suicide by falling off the wall, bringing down the books and smashing whatever is below. The materials to box in the boiler, still stacked up in the corner, gathering dust, waiting to be used. DIY I had good intentions of doing but never got around to.
And why are these things not getting done?
Roller Derby and the people involved in it are addictive, as much as heroin or alcohol. It should carry a health warning. And while it may not be as damaging to one’s health, it certainly is to one’s wealth. And so in 2014 it’ll be time to ignore my bank manager’s advice and head out to Dallas to cover the second Roller Derby World Cup. Because if I didn’t I’d just be sitting at home, drinking wine, doing DIY, weeding the garden and mentally kicking myself.
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