I bought a diary

I rarely use a diary. I mean, an appointments type of diary, not like a journal/blog type of diary. I bought one last year and never used it. But this year is already looking to be busy, and I'm already getting confused about what's happening when. And that's before starting to schedule in work.

I've mentioned before that there are a couple of things on the horizon: my new nephew's christening; my mother-in-law's birthday trip (the wife and I are taking her away); about ten tattoo sessions (I have booked three 3-hour slots already); hopefully at least a couple of weekend breaks and a proper-length holiday... Y'see, it all starts to mount up.

And now I'm also having to pencil in some periodontist time. Not content with all the dentist trips at the end of last year, it seems that I now have to do a bunch this year, too. So that's something else to schedule in.

So I bought a diary. I've filled in some of the dates I already know, and I guess I'll add in others as I go along. I don't make resolutions of the new year type, but maybe this is something I will try to stick to.

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But for now there's only one thing to occupy my mind:
it's Red's birthday today!!!
So we are trying to burn through our workload ASAP and then take the rest of the day off. Then tonight I'm taking her out to dinner at the poshest restaurant in the area. It's Michelin-starred and we've been there before, so we know it's great.

Shame the weather is so damn schifo today, y'know. It's really made the missus think back to the wonderfully sunny days we had this time last year in the delightful Seville. I'm thinking we should go there for her birthday every year...

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On the subject of dentists, these are currently my favourite lyrics.

Take these teeth
All they do is fucking cause me grief
They ain't working for me
I can't even think.
When the lights go on
I grip this chair
I don't feel so strong
Anything could happen, it could all go wrong.
All those wasted nights
All the times when I lost the fights
Are right before my fucking eyes in print.
The figure on this fucking page
Has wiped the smile right off my face:
Eight hundred pounds is a lot to pay when you're skint.

Take these teeth
Just for a second I need some fucking relief
They're keeping me awake and I can't sleep.
Can you drain the blood?
I've swallowed so much I think I want to throw up.

Can't you see that I've had enough?
Can you drain the blood from my fucking mouth?

"I Promise This Won't Hurt", Gallows