Every year I get depressed when we reach the end of the summer, and this is no exception. I had ideas about doing something interesting every weekend, about going to places and staying overnight. We managed one. 

I’ve just returned from a nice bank holiday weekend and am now very much in the deep spiral of sadness about having no life and no friends down here. Having spent time up with my family in the North, and having lots of things to do, people to see and places to go, the time flies by, and there is a good laugh by all. I saw my sister who is now heavily pregnant, and we’re all just generally excited for what’s coming later this year. 

Then reality returns. Back to work. Back to dealing with fucking printers. Fucking Windows 10. And soon it’ll be fucking Windows 11 as well. Back to the horrible cycle of being abused by people who don’t give a shit about my well-being, and wouldn’t be bothered if we weren’t there. It’s customer loyalty, and the odd nice people that keep me going. There are a few thankfully. But not enough. 

The other sad reality is being stuck in this town. We want to have a bigger house but prices are very much against us, and there are only certain parts of the town that we could live in. This makes house hunting boring and stressful. We have decided to start looking again but with no real expectations. We shall see. 

I know though that soon I’ll be back into routine and the days will be once more flying off the calendar. I know that we’ll be back to just barely acknowledging each other during the working day and me getting stressed and grumpy. No wonder I’m going bald. Then again, I am getting old now. 

That’s why I always hope I’ll enjoy the summer while it’s here. There may not be many more. I really don’t feel as well as I used to. It’s kinda embarrassing but I seem to get pains in my balls now for some reason. What’s that all about?