Cotton Wool World by Eve Westwood - HTML preview

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One hundred and forty seven

Torn cartilage. My god that’s something that hurts like hell. It’s quite ironical really. Stop smoking. Take up regular exercise. Two weeks later, your leg’s fucked and you can’t walk. There’s a lot to be said for sitting on your bum doing fuck all. No, that sounds bad. I am glad I gave up the dreaded weed. I decided if I was going to die of anything, lung cancer wasn’t going to be it. And I did enjoy swimming and playing squash, however briefly. I even lost some weight without really planning to. It’s a good job I wasn’t really that bothered because for the three weeks I’ve been unable to move because one of my legs is incapacitated I’ve probably put it back on anyway.

High ho. Life and its comedy fucking twists.

Fuck is my favourite word. It’s not a bad pastime either.

I often feel my senses are deceiving me. I remember watching a program about house renovation. On it, were a British couple who wanted to transform their house into an ‘Olde English home’. They lived in a nightmare of suburban hell on a 1990’s housing estate. The house was worth a stupid £150, 000 or something like that which was as equally ridiculous.

They then proceeded to re-design the interior. Their plan was this, one room Elizabethan, one room Dickensian, one room Masculine parlour? and another feminine history? To be frank, they were a couple of morons. If they recognize themselves I wonder if they’d try and sue me? Oh well, I don’t give a shit, they were imbeciles. People who couldn’t decide what 153

they wanted so just went for a bit of everything, culminating in an almighty mess. If you wanted an old house, why didn’t you go and buy an old house in the first place? And if you’re going to go in for imitation restoration at least do it properly and not with all modern materials. Fucking hell. Some people shouldn’t be allowed to have any money. When all was said and done the outside of the house was still indicative of what these people considered tasteful or they wouldn’t live there in the first place. Dickensian?

Wasn’t that dowdy and colourless? I don’t really know for sure but these two certainly didn’t either, considering they put Italian lights all over the room. If I know one thing, the period wasn’t Italian Renaissance. I know I get annoyed about trivial things but it just emphasises how stupid a lot of people really are.