Friday, 8 February 2013

On the road again


And as was prophesized by the crazy ancient Mayan calendar“during the second month of the year 2013, the ranting of a mind unhinged will once more fill our facebook screens and we will be sent push notifications. For the one they call Morton will have been let out of the country and will be once more upon the road” (To which several people clicked like, 13 shared and one commented "You dickhead, you posted last week that the world would end before that!" A comment that received 300 likes and was posted on failblog.com.)  I am here to fulfil this prophesy. This is not because I feel for these crazy future predicting fellows, or through any respect for their somewhat unreliable calendar. No friends, I do this due to popular demand for my blog. It brought a tear of joy to my eye when people asked me to get back on the keyboard. Literally thousands of requests! …… oh hang on a second, Gina is requesting I make an editorial change. 
Literally hundreds of truly dedicated readers have begged on bended knee that I once more report here on the adventures I have in a far off foreign ……. Hang on a second, Gina is coughing suggestively over my shoulder…….. MMMmm OK Editorial edit number 2 …….  
A small (But very influential, important) collective have requested that despite a low readership I should continue with my writings as they believe that future generations will look back upon my observations and conclude that I personally shaped a better future….. Oh for fuck sake now she’s threatening to hit me. Ok Final editorial clarification….. 
A couple of people, in passing “wondered” if I was going to blog again and this time stick at it. Better? Prefer the truth? Its not as exciting is it! For god sake!
  
I enjoyed being back in England, don’t get me wrong. I missed my friends and family a great deal when I wondered off to Australia a few years ago. It was good to be back. My issue is the 9-5 thing. The two biggest factors must be that Sunday feeling and the feeling when you are on the last day of a holiday. 

You all know that Sunday feeling ay? Yeah the one when you have worked Monday to Friday... Many apologies, I mean, you have dragged yourself kicking and screaming through the dreary, clock watching bull shit that for many of us represents the endless torture of a working week. You get to Friday, your fingernails have been torn off, your hair can only be described as being akin to Doc Brown circa 1985-90, you have that distant look in your eyes, cracking is on the agenda. 
But no! Wait just one glorious second, the glowing light of a Friday night out is illuminating the end of the dreary, dark tunnel. To the pub you go to spend the hard earned money burning hole in your pocket. You drink and drink, consuming that poison like an old bastard buying bread the day before a snow storm! You want that tap to run air so no other can enjoy the yeasty goodness. And why the devil not? Drink deep brothers and sister for on this night you are free from the oppression of gainful employment. What better way to celebrate your hard earned freedom? Stride head held high from your metaphorical plantation, stick a finger up to the master and pickle yourself and make sure you do it with a good mixing ratio for this my dear reader is binge drinking!

Its only fair to assume that this revolution of the liver is going to continue into the earliest hours Saturday has to offer. Thus, much of Saturday is spent deep in a slumber only a free man/woman can truly enjoy. However, when you wake, you scorn yourself for the laziness on display, hours of freedom wasted. In your despair you notice the bottle of vodka on the side, the sunlight casually splashes across the bottle, it glints, it’s almost as though the bottle is winking at you. Then you remember for some crazy reason, in the fridge there lies the remains of a bottle of tomato juice, a sad victim of a pasta experiment gone wrong. Now, an epiphany brothers and sisters is a phenomenon that one should rarely ignore nor take lightly. There is a flurry of alcoholic ambition and in seconds the Bloody Mary is making everything better. Little by little you regain the power to revolt.

At this point, its lots easier for you to just reread what happened last night to get into this state. I don’t want to bore you again. Needless to say Sunday you wake up late and feel really rather ordinary. On this occasion you cannot turn to the joys of Mary for two reasons: A- because you drank the vodka after she came on to you and B – you think to yourself “ah shit, I have work tomorrow!”. Just like that my friends, the Sunday blues are upon you. The rest of the day is often spent suffering with symptoms of over indulgence and depression that you have enjoyed your last sleep in for 5 days, when naturally and inevitably the above scenario will repeat itself.

Holidays are much the same. I don’t wish to bore you with another draw out, rambling metaphor. However, approaching the last day of the holiday, it is possible to imagine multiplying the feeling you get on a Sunday by approximately  7,000,000 and you get the level of depression that one encounters.

I guess the real point I'm attempting to get across to you is that; my only real chance to avoid these things is to run away again whilst I still have the last vestiges of youth on my side. A working holiday to Canada was my option. This blog will record my adventures and events that shape my travel in my mood dependant style of delivery. Probably best to say now that if you are offended by bad language and stubborn points of view it is probably advisable that you read no further.

I want to keep my blogs relatively short and even though I have been bought beers by bearded men informing me I should be a trucker, battered my bones on a snowboard and encountered strange events in the snow, I will be talking about these next time, fear not lads and ladies with short attention spans, I have you in mind.

Feel free to give me a follow on twitter morton1983

Happy reading you influential few
Mort 

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