My french lessons continue apace, and vocabulary is steadily coming back to me. The class is actually becoming a bit of a laugh, and I do my best to make crap jokes in a foreign language, as well as take the p*** in French, my touch of Tourette’s not being limited to only one language.
The toxicity of divorce is evident around me, exchanges with my soon to be ex becoming ever more rare, and when they do occur being pretty short. Tonight I was told that ‘ I’m becoming more like my father every day’ … I think that was designed to be a 2 generation encompassing insult, and now recorded here for posterity.
Aside from the verbal slings and arrows, things are pretty good all round, except for the obvious and my eagerly awaited dermatology visit.
I’ve had real laughs with a number of blokes that I’d not seen very often for a bit, including Dan, Lal, Adam and Nick. My now daily gym sessions have also brought me into contact with more of the peeps that I used to see, as well as the host of new acquaintances that I seem to have made. Well… you can never have too many friends, can you?
I’m also losing count of the number of times that I overhear my fast Triride wheelchair attachment being referred to as ‘ sick’ by males under 23 years old.
As we b.a.m.f’s around here say, that Triride is me trey… innit.