044. I'm feeling random, lets see where this goes.
I climbed a tree the other day. I don't know why. Me and the guys were walking home (public transport ain't what it used to be), and we cut through a small park. I saw a tree and got the urge to climb it, so I did. I sat on the highest branch that would support my weight and watched the clouds, thinking about things like I Can't Believe It's September Already and August Was Pretty Miserable Really and Hey Look Dave's Hair's Starting To Recceed. My bandmates were stood at the bottom saying stuff like Maybe We Should Just Leave Him There and I'm Cold When's He Coming Down. I was rather enjoying myself and pulled out my phone to text Hannah. I sent IM UP A TREE LOL XX and two minutes later received UR AN IDIOT XXX. I started to wonder whether I should name the puppy I'm thinking of buying her something like Tree or Cloud but then our manager caught up with us. He had been walking ten minutes behind talking on his phone making sure the other bands he managed were selling records and being famous rather than walking through parks and climbing trees like we were doing. He started saying stuff like Steven Rushton Get Down Or I'll Confiscate Your Ping-Pong Table, so I got down pretty sharpish because I really love that ping-pong table.
Of course, being 18 going on 19 and climbing trees in miniscule parks in London isn't the same as being 8 going on 9 and climbing the enormous apple tree in your back garden in Surrey. I set up camp in that tree all summer, reading Beano comics and yelling at my mum to bring me more coke. She called me a Cheeky Monkey and gave me bananas and nuts because that's what monkeys eat, though really she was trying to feed me more protein because like all primary school kids I existed on a sole diet of e numbers. I really wanted a tree house but was never allowed because number one the tree wasn't big enough and number two nobody trusted me with a hammer anyway. One weekend Toni persuaded Paul to lend us his binoculars and we took turns looking through them. I carefully timed the turns with my digital Simpsons watch to avoid arguments which led to fights which led to me getting hurt because she was bigger than me. Mrs-Next-Door caught me watching her gardening through the binoculars and came to the fence and said You Naughty Boy, You Shouldn't Be Spying On Me What If I'd Been Sunbathing Nude? I had nightmares of Mrs-Next-Door sunbathing nude after that and never looked into her garden from my tree again, just in case.
Back to the present, and I don't have a tree in my garden. I don't even have a garden. The closest thing is a few potted plants in the lobby and the mould that grows on the plates if we don't clean them enough. At least that means we can be close to nature when we wash up, especially as we have that Fairy Liquid that's supposed to smell like a flower meadow in Spring. It's still not an incentive to wash up though. Food poisoning, now that's an incentive to wash up. This morning I climbed the railings on our balcony to see if it was like climbing a tree, and someone down below noticed me teetering on the edge and shouted Don't Jump Don't Jump It's Not Worth It I'll Phone For Help. Actually I just made that up. There was someone below but I doubt they saw me. If they did, I bet all they said was Those Son Of Dork Hooligans Are Up To Their Old Tricks They'll Be Sorry When Someone Loses A Limb. Anyway, I guess I'll have to live without trees and foliage in general for a while, Cornwall had lots of trees. I liked Cornwall.
Watch out Jackass. Maybe a haircut is in order though.
Of course, being 18 going on 19 and climbing trees in miniscule parks in London isn't the same as being 8 going on 9 and climbing the enormous apple tree in your back garden in Surrey. I set up camp in that tree all summer, reading Beano comics and yelling at my mum to bring me more coke. She called me a Cheeky Monkey and gave me bananas and nuts because that's what monkeys eat, though really she was trying to feed me more protein because like all primary school kids I existed on a sole diet of e numbers. I really wanted a tree house but was never allowed because number one the tree wasn't big enough and number two nobody trusted me with a hammer anyway. One weekend Toni persuaded Paul to lend us his binoculars and we took turns looking through them. I carefully timed the turns with my digital Simpsons watch to avoid arguments which led to fights which led to me getting hurt because she was bigger than me. Mrs-Next-Door caught me watching her gardening through the binoculars and came to the fence and said You Naughty Boy, You Shouldn't Be Spying On Me What If I'd Been Sunbathing Nude? I had nightmares of Mrs-Next-Door sunbathing nude after that and never looked into her garden from my tree again, just in case.
Back to the present, and I don't have a tree in my garden. I don't even have a garden. The closest thing is a few potted plants in the lobby and the mould that grows on the plates if we don't clean them enough. At least that means we can be close to nature when we wash up, especially as we have that Fairy Liquid that's supposed to smell like a flower meadow in Spring. It's still not an incentive to wash up though. Food poisoning, now that's an incentive to wash up. This morning I climbed the railings on our balcony to see if it was like climbing a tree, and someone down below noticed me teetering on the edge and shouted Don't Jump Don't Jump It's Not Worth It I'll Phone For Help. Actually I just made that up. There was someone below but I doubt they saw me. If they did, I bet all they said was Those Son Of Dork Hooligans Are Up To Their Old Tricks They'll Be Sorry When Someone Loses A Limb. Anyway, I guess I'll have to live without trees and foliage in general for a while, Cornwall had lots of trees. I liked Cornwall.
Watch out Jackass. Maybe a haircut is in order though.