An arsehole came by the flat on Friday, under the impression that months of being lied to and disrespected has buttered us up to do what it wants. It puckered when it found out it hasn’t. Miraculously, now we’re the arseholes. I’ve demanded respect before I even begin to listen.
After the kid’s team scored a goal at football, the three of us descended on the creek. We spent a lovely hour paddle boarding. It was nice having Shaun back on the water after, you know, he cut off a chunk of his thumb.
A lazy Sunday ended up the hill, overlooking Portsmouth, eating a burger.
While today isn’t technically a weekend day because it’s a Monday and a work day isn’t a weekend day by any stretch, there was a shark in the sky. It would be a shame not to share it.