Sometimes life kicks you right in your
stupid face. Everything’s going just swimmingly (or so you think) and you’re
backstroking your way to the edge of the pool, when bam! there it is; the kick
that sends you sinking ‘til your battered body rests right on the very bottom.
Does that mean you’re going to limit yourself to the shallow end of life? Fuck
no! You paddle to the steps, take a sip of your gin and tonic, and regroup. We
don’t retreat, we regroup and restrategise, and kick life back in its g.d face.
And this little tale of aquatic misfortune/face
kicking obviously brings us to the topic of nesting weekends (Keep up readers).
Sometimes you just can’t go adventuring. Whatsapp is going motherfucking crazy
with all the invitations that are pinging on your phone. Drinks here, dinner
there, bear hunting or donkey bothering all over, but it’s you who just can’t
be bothered. Or perhaps your phone is that silent reminder that you’re
everybody’s second choice, but you still just can’t be bothered. It’s chill
babes – this weekend we’re going to regroup and restrategise. On the couch.
And being at home doesn’t have to be a
complete non-adventure. Not two weeks ago, I battled a kitchen invasion of
garden snails, similar in proportion to Alexander the Great conquering Persia.
Those slugs in battledress need to watch their backs. But sometimes the weekend
is also nothing more than going to the bank simply to fight with them and then
coming home to pour yourself another glass of wine because your bank fought
with you. Why not read a book? Or watch some shit on TV. Or eat another bowl of
popcorn whilst reading your book and watching shit on TV.
Because you know what? Fuck ‘em all. Fuck
the bank, fuck the snails, and most off all – fuck the world. You can kick
everything in the face next weekend, this time you’re reading a Jilly Cooper,
watching Don’t Tell the Bride and
making a list of everyone who’s gonna get their comeuppance. And when all those
meanies have been accounted for (and Rupert Campbell-Black has bonked his way
through the Cotswolds), we’re gonna put on our big-person pants and go kick
some faces in.
