I am a tad worried that I may be having a breakdown of some description.
I was out playing snooker with a friend the other day and, dotted around the club, were flyers advertising a vacancy for a part-time table cleaner. The hours were daily between 7-11am and the flyer suggested it would suit 'a student or an active pensioner'.
And I genuinely thought 'I'd like to do that!' It would be a quiet work environment, I could cycle there from home and cycle back again and that would be good exercise, and I could take real pride in making sure those tables were in pristine condition before the club opened and the players arrived.
I'd get real satisfaction out of doing something like that. I'd be meticulous and I would genuinely care. I'd be good at it, too, because it's a good club and they recognise the importance of providing a professional playing environment for all their players. And I could contribute to that and it would make me happy.
The Missus pointed out that this was probably an indication of current stresses in my latest job and a lack of satisfaction after a tough few weeks. She also said it would pass.
But I fear it won't pass. I fear it's getting worse. I'm currently in a well-paid job and an alternative career doing menial work that is probably poorly paid is sounding tempting...
I also read OK! today and I genuinely wanted to shoot most of the people in it. And although that is probably a perfectly rational response, it isn't a right one. Or is it? I'm too confused to tell...
Razor-sharp, offbeat, uplifting satire.
Q. Why should Grandmaster Flash never bully Bono from the U2?
A. Because he's close to The Edge.
The Missus has turned into a crafting dervish: her pottery skills impress on an almost weekly basis when she brings her latest creations home, and she's also dabbling with sewing.
We've also been after a bookcase for the front room and, instead of spunking lots of cash on a new one, she simply got an old one out of the cellar and upcycled it.
I was hugely impressed by this and commended her work.
'That's fabulous. It really is,' I offered as I admired her handiwork.
'I'm pretty pleased,' she replied.
I continued: 'I'm most impressed because it's the first time you upcycled anything. You took something tatty, unappealing, smelly, old and broken and made it both presentable and serviceable. It's brilliant.'
'Actually, it's not the first time I've upcycled and improved something,' she replied. 'I've had one upcycling project going for about 18 years now...'
'And what's that?'
'It remains unfinished...'
And, with that, she started to get changed as we prepared to go out and celebrate our anniversary. It's been 18 happy years...
Unremittingly grim, conspicuous Oscar-chaser.
It is Sunday morning and me and the Missus are in bed, following a meal out to celebrate 18 years together, a meal that was rounded off with a trip to the pub, then more booze back at home. Consequently, we are a tad 'fragile' and watching rubbish telly before we make the move to get out of bed.
The TV programme in question is Amanda Lamb Sells Houses. Or something like that. And, in this particular episode, the eponymous TV presenter is advising a home owner and her very silent husband on what they should do to increase their chances of a successful house sale. The woman, however, is quite bullish in her rejection of Lamb's eminently sensible advice and the Missus is perturbed by this.
'Why doesn't the husband say anything? Is he a mute?' asks the Missus.
'No. He's just terrified to question her decisions and he's obviously had his spirit broken by years of verbal abuse and criticism, aimed at making him "better".'
'Where on Earth have you got that from?' she replies.
'I recognise the look...'
'What look?'
'Nothing. It's just a wild guess...'
Shortly afterwards, I was on punishment detail stripping the bed and making more cups of tea. I am banned from having opinions. Fact.
It's nice when you get an unexpected surprise. And, this week, I've had just such a thing.
The Missus got into pottery about three years ago and, by osmosis, I now know a bit more about the likes of Bernard Leach and Grayson Perry than I probably otherwise would do. Such knowledge sharing obviously works both ways, though, as she now has a solid understanding of UFC fighters and she can spot a hapkido wrist lock or a BJJ arm bar at 100 yards.
But back to pottery...
A while ago, I downloaded the series of 2013 Reith Lectures that Perry gave entitled Playing to the Gallery. Topics covered in these lectures included the value and purpose of art in the modern age, a personal review of Perry's own artistic career, and a discussion on what is classified as art in the 'anything-goes' world of modern art.
And they're utterly wonderful. The lectures are entertaining, thought-provoking and, at times, quite moving. They're well worth a listen if art of any discipline is your thing.
Even better, they're available for free on the BBC website. Joyous stuff.
