Monday, 14 December 2009

Sunday Brief

Here’s my Sunday in brief. (As you read this you should imagine Gordon Ramsay is doing the voiceover)

Get up. The wee fella is downstairs watching cartoons. I make breakfast. Crack four eggs. Whip em up. Good strong wrist action. Add salt. Heat oil in a pan. Pour in eggs. Grill bacon. Once cooked, chop and add to the eggs. Serve immediately. Savour.

Read newspaper. Online. Can’t be arsed running down to shop. Watch WWE. Bored. My son says I have no taste. As well as being a rubbish cook.

Apart from this he’s being very affectionate. I love you, dad – he says – so get used to it. But don’t cook for me. Takeaway everytime.

Drop him off at his mum’s. Barely stop the car. That’ll teach him.

Go to the gym. Strip. Change. Cardio. Run for first time since hurting ankle. Breathe don’t wheeze, I tell myself. Swelling in ankle. Move to weights. Chest and arms. Don’t look at belly in the mirrors. Too many mirrors. Back in changing room. Strip and shower. Sauna. Shower. Steam room. Wheeze. Feel phlegm being loosened. Cough. Nowhere to spit, so I swallow. (Sound familiar ladies?)

...I did say it was a Gordon Ramsay voiceover ...admittedly with Billy Connolly’s sense of humour. (If I have offended your sensibilities please go to for a half-arsed apology)

Shower. Jacuzzi. Shower. So clean I squeak as I walk back into the changing room. Dry. Friend comes over to talk. He’s naked. I’m seated. And freshly nauseous. I think of somewhere I could spit phlegm. Dress. In the cafe, I order coffee. And cake. Sit and watch second-half of football match. Sip coffee. Push fork into cake. Place moist sponge in mouth. Savour.

Go to movies. New Moon. How can a film about vampires and werewolves be so wet? Feels like I’m back in Jacuzzi. What a bag of shite. Save your money. Or throw it away. Better still, take a tenner from your wallet. Pick box of matches from kitchen cupboard. Scratch. Spark. Flame. Burn.



  1. Michael, Michael, Michael, I can forgive you everything. You entertain me, make me laugh, educate me, open up poetry for me, do your Boswell to the wee man's Johnston, but if you ever stick Gordon Ramsay's face on a demoiselle décolletée again, I'll ... I'll ...

  2. wow, you're in a wicked bad mood today!

  3. Bill, Bill, Bill I apologise. It will never happen again.

    Thea, was that wicked bad in a good way?If it was a bad way, blame Gordon Ramsay. I was channelling him as I wrote :)

  4. wicked bad in that your writing had a rapier's edge to it, or in gordon's kitchen, that of a meat clever!! just kidding...its all good, mikey!

  5. A blog of sensations and frustration. For some it might be TMI at the gym but for those of us who follow faithfully, it was, er, informative and accurate, I'd say, from a male point of view. Hey, Thea, this is a good blog to keep in mind when we're writing the guy's point of view.

    The ankle's still kicking up a fuss, eh, Michael?

  6. Only when I try to run, Marley. So guess what? No running. TMI? I always do a double take - worry that I've overstepped the mark - and then leave it in regardless.

  7. Steam room, sauna, jacuzzi, shower...those were the best part of the post...along with the female Gordon Ramsey :)

    Seriously, though, sounds like you're reaping all the health benefits your gym has to offer, just make sure you're staying hydrated and enjoy!!!

  8. you see, what is so good about your writing is that not only could i see what you did at the gym, i felt what you felt...sheer horror way too close to the tip of my nose!! it reminds me of the time i was a guest at the NY Health and Racquet Club and my experience in the ladies locker room. surprisingly traumatic! but I did end up in the hot tub with Jerry Stiller (George's dad in Seinfeld). Which is another story.

  9. i canna put the experience in writing! but let me just say that Jerry is a total sweetheart.