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Who cares?

Trying so hard, and so wanting, to make something out of nothing, silk purse sow's ear comes to mind, y'know? But really, who cares? Okay, so i dragged my sorry self-pitying arse out of the sack ( and that's not a million miles from the truth actually ) sometime after first light this morning, there was no pressing need or desire to do anything or go anywhere and so, i put the kettle on and made myself a strong one, but really, who cares?
Just one look out of the kitchen window confirmed that there would be no hurry to get washed and dressed. The sky was grey, the garden path looked soaked, the very finest drizzle was falling down but really, who cares?

What the hell ? I thought, couldn't be sitting around here all day stewing and bored witless. "Letts," i thought, " i'll take a walk to Letts.". Okay so it's some four or five miles away but i had time to kill, there's a Costcutters there and they do a nice line in cheap pear cider but really, who cares?

So, aforementioned sorry self pitying arse was hauled into the bathroom, i got myself dressed, and walked all that fucking way to Letts only to find that this Costcutters doesn't open on bank holiday Mondays. I was, how can i put this? Disappointed? Yes, for sure, i was disappointed but really, who cares?
There is a Co-op in Letts and they may very well be "good with food" but they're not cheap-shops. I could get a Mail i supposed and maybe a two litre bottle of something and milk, i needed milk, i would see, but really, who cares?

As i approached the store double-doors opened automatically and i entered. Found the newspapers, Mail in basket. Walked round to the Fridge section and found the milk, a two pint bottle for 89 pence aint bad but i'm never happy about cheap milk, somebody, somewhere, pays. In this particular case the poor bloody farmer bends over the barrel biting on something hard and who cares? I do, i really do.
That left cider, errm,,, yeah. Here we go i thought, now who would be needing to bite on something hard? Was i in for a surprise. Standing back in amazement, giving the price-label a double take. Co-op original dry at £2.69 for a two litre bottle. Can't do better than that, unless you're planning to cook with it or sprinkle it on your chips but really,who cares?

Well that was me sorted. Went to the checkout and paid for my stuff feeling glad i'd packed my old work-coat. Okay, i didn't need it, wouldn't need it but when i'm buying booze the coat almost fills the bag, it'll keep my bottle standing upright and prevent from doing an Elvis Presley and getting all shook up but really, who cares?
That was that basically. The sun was shining, i had my bag on my shoulder, ripened blackberries were readily available along the roadside out in the country as i headed home and i was glad to get ​home, but really, who cares?




You know, you can make a decent wine with blackberries. Never tried it myself, though I did make cider one summer a few years ago when our apple trees became extremely polyphiloprogenitive.
I tried making wine many years ago and actually had a funny experience with blackberry. I had a demi-john tucked away in my flat bubbling away nicely one time when i noticed that bubbles weren't passing through the air lock. So, i decided that i'd give a day sort itself out. Then, that night as i lie in bed i heard a pop. It had sorted itself out and i had a purple blob on my living room ceiling. I bottled it eventually but it had no taste to it.
The prune wine was nice. Wouldn't mind trying cider but i'm very short of motivation.
You say "who cares" a lot. I know you don't take compliments well, so I won't insult you with the obvious.

Glad you got out. No one walks anymore. It is good for the soul.
My "who cares?" jibe was a reference to how boring the subject matter is and how hopeless i am at making something out of nothing. Also, i hoped that someone, somewhere, might find it amusing.

Walking, i seem to be doing quite a bit of that right but my senses don't seem to be working. We see and hear so much and yet i see hear and feel nothing.

Your thoughts appreciated Winston.
Go you good thing.
I still look for the perfect chip.
When im miserable my wife makes me comfort food of oven baked chips with American BBQ sauce.
A shit day can pivot right around if you get your choppers around a good chip

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