Tuesday 29 March 2011

29 March 2011

23:54

I got ready for work this morning, the usual time, no shower, just a wash at the sink and said goodbye to Connie. She was having a lie in. I opened the door and took one step outside when I a guy in a suit, one of those from yesterday I think, stopped me from going any further. I told him I had to go to work, he told me quite plainly “not today”. He'd apparently already phoned my work and told them I wouldn't be in today. I wonder how he got the number? He also told me if I had a mobile phone. Obviously, who doesn't have a mobile phone these days. Me, that's who. He made me hand it over. I wasn't too sure at first but two police officers came up the stairs and instructed me to do what the man said.

No-one else came to the door, not until around 16:32, when another guy in a suit, a rather expensive suit, as if I know what a dear suit looks like and he explained the situation to both me and Connie. Something really fucked up has happened. You won't believe what those bastards upstairs have done!!!

I thought they were just your everyday idiots, goofy looking morons, you know. But it seems they've got a very dark secret. I've never known anyone who's worked on stem cell reproduction or underground bio-chemical body enhancement. Well, not until now. I've never trusted those tools upstairs. How can you live below someone for over five years and not know anything about them?

Monday 28 March 2011

28 March 2011

23:54

I got back from another boring day at work (18:40), pressing keys, each key-press was another year off my life. Why did I chose such a boring job, or did it chose me. Anyway, wait till I tell hear this. I walked home, as I always do, Monday to Wednesday, when I saw the police outside my close. There were also some other official looking guys there, two in black suits, two in some weird one-piece yellow space suits, I guess. They looked like forensics guys you see on the news. One of the suit guys put his hand up to halt me, asked what flat number I lived at. I told him flat 3, he shook his head to the other suited guy, removed his large hand from my person and let me carry on up the stairs. Shit, there was blood everywhere! Not a large amount of blood, we're not talking bloodshed here, but enough to be concerned about. There must have been another disturbance in the close when I was at work. I hate living in a tenement building sometimes. You have to put up with other people's shit. Still, I hurried upstairs and did a little dance past another two guys (I think they were guys) wearing those yellow rubbery suits. They were squatting down scraping pieces of dry blood into a clear bag. Wow, it was just like CSI...(take your pick).

I've just come back from peering out the spyhole. They're still looking at the blood. For God's sake how long does it take? It's blood. Don't you get it guys! B.L.O.O.D. How many suits does it take to decide that it is blood. We've all seen the red stuff before now can you just leave the building I'm getting rather restless and very tired.

They're still making a fair bit of noise in the close. I'm sure I heard them talking about that old woman.

Good night.

Hopefully.

Sunday 27 March 2011

27 March 2011

23:08

I didn't win the Euromillions last night. Maybe just as well because I think I would have to get my face reconstructed. I firmly believe that if you won that amount of money, some bad, and I mean really bad, people would try their damnedest to find you and your pot of gold. I can't be doing with that. I was starting to think who's face would I have? Maybe a new body as well; female. It was getting ludicrous. As I said, I didn't win. Hold on, something's happening in the close. Bloody neighbours!! I'll get back to you.

23:20

Fuck sake! You'll have to excuse my language but I just saw such scene in the close. I say me, it was actually Connie that heard it first. Who's Connie? Well, I wasn't going to mention her. She my girlfriend. She hasn't been relevant until now because she read my journal and wondered why there was no mention of her. It's my journal so I can put in or leave out whomever I want. She doesn't see it that way. She asked if I had put down that my clothes magically wash, iron and put themselves away. I got her point, right in the back of my head. So that's her, that's Connie. She beckoned me over to the spyhole and, well, she says she “let me” have a look. That old lady that I saw getting help up the stairs the other day, she was going absolutely mental in the close. Connie said she heard something scrape against the wall outside. Someone was making their way clumsily down, stumbling and fumbling. It was that old lady. She stopped outside our door and was grabbing at the handle. Connie said it looked as though there was blood on her teeth. I had a look for myself.

It did look as though she had blood or something on her teeth and she didn't look well at all. One of the worker guys with the overalls came down the stairs with that prat from upstairs. They both got a hold of her, and held her at a distance. I noticed blood on the worker's boiler suit. I wasn't much but it was noticeable. I didn't quite hear what was being said because Connie had her ear to the letterbox and she said they were talking shite. I would like to take this time to officially thank her for her cooperation and contribution to this journal and I deserved the slap on the back of the head that she gave me. It wasn't her fault she couldn't understand them.

I don't know if I should call the police or not. Is it obvious that I should, after all I don't know what went on up there. I'm one of those people who thinks that if there's something dodgy going on then someone else should take charge or I should at least wait until someone else notices. That way if I'm mistaken we all look like a bunch of insecure melodramatic paranoid idiots. It's not as if I actually saw anyone getting hurt. I'll leave it just for the moment. See if anyone else in the close heard anything. If not, I'll forget all about it.

Time for a sleep. Night.

Thursday 24 March 2011

24 March 2011

22:36

I don't know what I've done but my sore back is here again. If I can catch it in time, I won't end up on my back for another fortnight or worse, maybe even in a wheelchair. While I'm sure that people who live their lives in wheelchairs can cope admirably with the day to day tasks of living, I don't think I could. I really don't think I could be bothered with the hassle. I'm too lazy you see. Some people would see it as a challenge, not having their full abilities any longer, constantly being tested and seeing everything new as a hill to be conquered, a test to be passed. Not me. I don't want hassles, I want that easy life. The only hassle I want is the albatross of winning £120million on the Euromillions. It could happen. It probably wont.

I went into the back-green today just to get a better look at the material I unearthed last night. It wasn't there, someone must have lifted it and put it in the bin. I don't know which bin because I searched the black bins and the recycling bins. Felt like a bit of a scrounger, raking through the bins. Flat 6 have a newborn baby up there so their bin was a minefield of shitty nappies and baby food. I had a shower when I came back up.

Wednesday 23 March 2011

23 March 2011

22:36

It's been a quiet day with not much happening upstairs or on the stairs, for that matter. I'm going to take the bin out and surreptitiously open the back door to the garden. Let's see what's going on at that patch of ground near the trees.

23:00

Fuck. I was down in the back-green, you know, over at that patch that has been dug up a few times and I kicked some of the dirt away. Don't worry, I wasn't being watched or anything. At least, I don't think I was because I had a good look around, pretending I was looking for stars or whatever in the sky. That way I could look up and make sure no-one was looking out their window. The only light shining out was one from the next close. Someone in their kitchen, probably a late snack.

There was a small ball, belonging to that mutt upstairs, left out so I kicked it about purposefully, and with the sole intent of getting closer to, and giving me an excuse to stand near, the “flower bed.”

I bent over to pick up the ball and noticed a bit of material on the dirt. When I pinched and grabbed it, dirt came up with it. I think the fucker was buried. Now, I'm not going to jump to conclusions, but no-one buries their old cardigan in the garden. I don't know what to do. You see these soaps on tv where a character has been murdered and buried in the garden, but....well, I don't believe for a minute that that's what's happened here. This isn't Brookside Close or Shallow Grave. This is just normal, everyday life. I am intrigued, though. Shit! What do I do. I want to dig that bloody place up now. But what if it is a body under there, which it isn't! But what if.....?

Monday 21 March 2011

21 March 2011

22:36

I've been at work most of the day but I think that old biddy that arrived yesterday is still up there. I can hear someone dragging their feet around. Feet scuffing of the floor, I think she must be wearing wooden clogs instead of slippers.

I've had a quick look out the back-green and there doesn't seem to be any more activity around the dug up patch of ground. I'm going to go down there one night and have a sneaky peak. I'll wait until Wednesday night, when the bins are taken out, and that'll give me an excuse to be in the cellar, then the garden, or I'll leave it to the weekend. Everywhere is so much quieter and more relaxed at the weekend. I won't be noticed, I don't think. Fuck, I'm going to walk about my own (communal) garden. What's the worst that can happen.

Sunday 20 March 2011

20 March 2011

22:36

I'm getting a bad vibe about upstairs. Not the usual bad you feel when you don't get on with people, but a weird sort of vibe that they are really not nice people. I wish I could put my finger on it but, I don't know, maybe I'm just being irrational. I looked through the spyhole around tea time, that's half past five to me and that arsepiece upstairs was helping an old lady up to his place. She was old, and I mean really old. She was decrepit. She must have been 80+. I think she was on her last legs. It took fifteen minutes to get her up five flights of stairs. I hope she was worth it. I caught a glimpse of her ring (not her arse) but the big rock she had on her finger. She was well dressed too, and not just for a pensioner. I reckon she has a few bob. Maybe even a lottery winner. I could just about smell the money.

Friday 18 March 2011

18 March 2011

23:33

My day off work today so I've had plenty of time at the spyhole. It was exciting when the postman buzzed to get in around 11:15. I let him in then just stood at the door, staring at him through the spyhole. He pushed a package through and it hit me in the groin then fell to the floor. It was a package I'd ordered from Play.com. I felt invisible, he suspected nothing. Why should he, I imagine he'd go made if he thought there was someone directly behind the door whenever he was delivering a package.

Turned the TV on to have a quick look at the depressing news. Japan are still fucked after the tsunami hit them. Local news and another house had been set on fire during the night. More bodies done at gas mark 8. The police think there may be a link between this one and the recent house fire in Ayrshire. There were also bodies dug up in the back garden; Three bodies in various stages of decomposition. What's going on in the world? They say that plenty of serial killers are out there and that they just haven't been caught yet. Who digs graves in their back-green? Mad mental Murderers, I suppose.

I'm going to keep my eye on those slimy bastards upstairs. I haven't seen the black vans for a while.

The slimy bastard from upstairs came home at lunch time; 12:20. When he left half an hour later, he had a plaster on his left cheek.

Teatime came around pretty fast. I finished my pizza and went to the spyhole just in time to see those idiot twins carry another box upstairs. Surely they're not still working on that bathroom.

They must be getting paid by the hour.


Thursday 17 March 2011

17 March 2011

21:57

It's almost the end of a pretty uneventful week. Work was boring and nothing went on other than my headaches making an appearance from Tuesday right through to today. I might have to go to the doctor and make sure it isn't cancer. That's what I always think whenever there's something wrong in my head. The alarm bells rings and they're ding donging to the tune of a tumour.

This neighbourhood is getting worse too. There was a trail of blood leading upstairs, or down from upstairs – depending on how you look at it. Stairs lead both up and down but in this case I can't help but think the blame only comes downstairs. I noticed it this morning around o8:20 when I left for work. It looked quite dark. Really, abnormally dark! Almost black and it was quite thick. I know this because while my eyes followed the trail upstairs, they missed a single blob, about the size of a fifty pence piece, outside my door. I scraped my shoe on the stairs and the stuff came away but it was the consistency of....well, I don't know, imagine something in-between glue and chewing gum. It was gone by the time I finished work; 16:15.

There was an item on the news tonight about a house in Ayrshire being burned to the ground. There were four bodies in one of the bedrooms. They reckon that's where the fire started; a cigarette left on the arm of a sofa. In a bedroom? Who has a sofa in the bedroom? The bodies were burnt beyond all recognition, but they were all adults. No clues as to the sex of the “victims”. They've got to bring sex into everything haven't they!

They also said that there had been suspicious activity in the garden and that a police tent had been set up. The investigation continues.

Time for a sleep.

Monday 14 March 2011

14 March 2011

23:29

No headaches today. I noticed a few small bumps and scrapes on my front door that weren't there before. Someone's been a bit of a dope carrying stuff upstairs methinks. Clumsy bastards. I'll give it a little touch up with black paint. The whole door is black and has been for the past ten years or so. Maybe it's time for a change. Red? Nah, too much.

Saturday 12 March 2011

12 March 2011

23:15

It has been very cold all day. When I got out of bed this morning it was really cold in the flat. That's usually an indication of how cold it is outside. Indeed, it was snowing. Not heavy, but it was snowing.

Went to work and did the usual boring typing for about an hour, it was a quick day so I can't really complain. Two black vans were parked beside each other outside the flat. Identical black Mercedes vans. Are they really that reliable? Or just common, maybe. I bumped into those two workers/morons from upstairs. Or should I say they bumped into me. The pair of them, side by side, took up almost the whole width of the stairs; I had to squeeze between them. Tweedle dumb and Tweedle fuckin' dumber. They looked like through me like I wasn't even there.

It wasn't until I got in home that I noticed blood on my jacket sleeve. I knew it wasn't mine, cause I'd only been out the door for about and hour. Those two workers looked very dodgy.

The little allotment seems to be coming along, although the earth seems to be constantly under threat of being disturbed. There seems to be a dip at the right hand side of the patch.

23:27
Looking though the spyhole, I saw those two morons from upstairs, not the occupants, the workers come back. They are very robot in movement.

Someone, a man, yelled upstairs. It sounded strange, not the sort of noise I've heard before. I think maybe they have someone who is mentally challenged upstairs. It was a real long moan. Things were getting knocked over and voices got raised. I couldn't tell exactly who was shouting but there were probably about five or six people up there. One of them was struggling and causing quite a commotion. It must be hard looking after an adult with a handicap.

Those low moans got me unnerved.

There's still no sign of that banker who went missing a few days ago.

23:34
It is very quiet now. I can hear footsteps as I type this; people walking down the stairs in the close. Noisy people.

Time to turn in for the night.

Thursday 10 March 2011

10 March 2011

19:15

I sat about the house for most of the day, only popping out briefly to the shops for the newspaper and a two morning rolls. On the front page of the local paper, The Gazette, there is a picture of a man who has been missing since Sunday 6th. He was a bank worker. Now, call me a cynical, but I don't think he's coming back any time soon. I wonder if any money has coincidently went missing?


23:05

Another bloody dead mouse at my door. I wish that cat upstairs would leave little presents outside its owner's door. If I was loosing my marbles I'd say that it was the exact same mouse I chucked in a pizza box and dumped in the bin. What do I know, I'm not a vet or someone who looks after mice. Is there such a position? Is there someone out there who works very closely with mice, maybe in a laboratory, and who has a fancy title with the latin word for mouse (which I believe is Mus) in it. Who knows.

No sore head for me today, which is a surprise considering the amount of banging that went on upstairs today. I take it they must have eventually started on the installation of the bathroom. Although, the banging seemed to come from different places in the flat.

Just had a quick look at that patch of soil out the back-green, the one that upstairs (must be them) have claimed as their own. It looks a little higher than usual. Nah, I think it's maybe time I got my eyes tested.

It's all quiet now and I hope it stays that way.

Night. Night.

Tuesday 8 March 2011

08 March 2011

22:32

A helicopter hovered above the college then over the cemetery last night. I wonder what they were looking for? They better have good vision because that cemetery is rumoured to be one of the largest in Europe. I've passed through it a couple of times in the past, but never at night. It's not the sort of place you'd want to be after dark. To many bad elements up there: drunks, neds and God know what else, plus I don't think there's any lighting on the paths.

I walked to work this morning, as I'm trying to prevent the pounds from piling on and settling nicely on my waist. The old stomach is giving me jip and has already forced me to visit the doctor with acute backache.

It was just another boring, run of the mill, day at work. Nothing special ever happens, but I have noticed that my mind wonders a lot more than it used to. I suppose I'll have to concede to the ageing process. My head felt as though it was going to split wide open, such was the pain of the migraine I had at lunch time. I'm not partial to migraines, by any means, but this one was like someone dropping an axe down on my skull. I pushed it a bit with the paracetamol (2 and half tablets at a time). The ache seemed relentless, but then it totally disappeared around 3:15. I guess the tablets worked after all.

Got home about half six. When I neared the door to the close, I noticed a few drops of blood on the pavement. They weren't much to look at but I couldn't help but stare at them, maybe a little too much. Any amount can be mesmerising, there's something very interesting about drops, splashes, drips of blood, especially when they're someone else's. I hadn't heard any commotion outside last night. Maybe something had happened when I was sleeping.

Surely no-one was hurt Sunday night/ Monday morning when there was, shall we say, an altercation in the close. Why do people have to drink beyond their limits? Idiots. I hope they punched the hell out of each other.

22:59

Just had a quick look out the back-green. The dug-up area at the back still has no flowers on it. Is that the plan? Just dig up the garden piece by piece and leave it so it looks like a farm. Someone coming upstairs....


23:24

False alarm. It was just the owner/occupier of the flat upstairs. I refuse to call him by his real name as I think he is a twat. He stopped at my door, looked down at something, tutted, shook his head and then moved on up the stairs. I've not checked what it is yet. I'll have a look tomorrow, probably chewing gum again.

Monday 7 March 2011

07 March 2011

23:07

There was a bit of a scuffle in the close last night. Must have been upstairs returning from a night out on the tiles. Loud voices and heavy footsteps. Noisy bastards! Sounds as though it really kicked off when they got inside, with furniture getting knocked over and someone yelling (drunks!). I was going to call the police, but I suppose there was no need considering it ended pretty much as soon as it started. I don't think I've ever heard such a brief party.

It has been a quiet day and nothing much to report. I know it's not very good for a journal, but it is good, very good for my nerves.

I'm going to turn in for the night and hope that I get to sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

Sunday 6 March 2011

06 March 2011

20:16

Just another quiet Sunday. Went visiting my mum for some biscuits and tea, came home and sat about for a bit. Opened the top window in my room and noticed someone had dug up an area in the back-green, just in front of the trees. The trees divide our gardens from the ones on the next Street. You'd think living in a communal close that who ever the fuck it was who wanted to plant flowers would have consulted the rest of the close.

The close to our left has flower pots and a little rockery with a few nice flowers, maybe that's what someone in this close wants. There's already a little allotment area under flat 2's window. I wonder if they're planning on expanding their floral empire. It's a bit selfish if you ask me.

The freshly dug space looks a bit big, roughly about 7ft x 6ft of freshly turned soil.


23:21

Time to turn in. Watched Being Human on TV earlier. That silly ghost Annie has got the vampire Mitchell into a lot of bother. He's just been arrested. Good series about a vampire, a werewolf and a ghost. I wonder what it would be like living with one of them? Probably a bloody nightmare. See what I did there? Night, night.

Saturday 5 March 2011

5th March 2011

15:27

That black Mercedes is gone. I found a dead mouse outside my door this morning. Poor little fella. I say fella, I didn't actually get close enough to check the sex, but it looked pitifully like a male. The lost look in his eyes gave it away. At first I thought maybe the cat from flat 6 brought it up, but there was no blood. No bite marks that I could see anyway. I used an ice-lolly stick to scoop the little body into a used pizza box, then stuck it downstairs in the recycle bin. Maybe he'll get recycled too.

I forgot to say, there was banging coming from upstairs, it started about 2 then went on until 5 in the morning. It wasn't a constant banging though. There would be a single bang, followed by a twenty minute gap of total silence, then another bang. It was a bit of a pisser, to say the least. I would just get ready to fall asleep, then another bang. What can you do about someone who bangs once every twenty minutes or so?


16:00

Drove to TESCO in Port Glasgow. Got some essentials: potato scones, bacon and the (news)papers. When I left I noticed the black Mercedes van parked about thirty metres from my car. I hadn't noticed it when I arrived. I think it was the same one from outside the front.

As I drove past the docks, I spotted another one of those black Mercedes vans. Common as muck!

Got another sore head, mostly down the right hand side. It made the drive back home very uncomfortable. There appears to be no banging upstairs, or any sort of activity that would imply work in progress.


00:33

It's late and time I went to bed. I've been sitting up watching television pretty much all night and drank some wine; red and white, probably not a good mixture. What's that old saying never mix the grain, or is it the grape? The spyhole has been uneventful in the times that I've looked out. I think that's good. Time for a sleep. I hope there's no intermittent banging. I don't think my head could stand it.

Friday 4 March 2011

04 March 2011

10:05

It was generally a quiet night last night. I'm a light sleeper, though, which usually means if anyone so much as farts it's enough to wake me. Last night was the the first time I double checked the lock on the front door was on, then five minutes later triple checked, just to set my over-active mind at ease. It was fine.

I woke up about 2 in the morning to scratching noises. Couldn't quiet tell where it was coming from. One minute it sounded like it was upstairs, the next as though it was the front door. The thought of something scratching at the front door sent the tiniest of shivers down my spine. I pretended there was no scratching sounds and drifted off to sleep.

I don't quiet remember my dream, but I do remember that it was something disturbing. My stomach was tight and my mind was somewhere else, figuratively speaking, of course. To suggest otherwise would be insane, right?


12.32

I know it's probably nothing (famous last words), but I went to the toilet, and done my business, then went to flush there seemed to be more blood in the pan than usual. 100% more blood. Wonder if it's related to my stomach ache? I should be more worried, but I've had it once before, last year, when I just pushed too hard. That's all it'll be; fingers crossed.


14:16

Went to the lounge and looked out the window. That Mercedes van is sitting outside, right next to mine. I wonder how long it has been there. The street is quiet today, not that many cars. Of all the cars to next to, why mine? Calm down brain, don't leap to conclusions.


21:41

The female one upstairs returned around 5. She has a really bad stoop. I don't know why I haven't noticed it before. I stood at the front door looking out, on and off, for a few hours. She came up the stairs and I swear I've never seen anyone make walking look so difficult. It's as though she's not used to the body. You don't want to know what I'm thinking about my last statement.

It's funny, but when you pass blood for the first time, you panic a little, the second time implies there has to be more than mere coincidence but at the same time you've been there before, you kind of know what to expect. I've been scared to fart ever since my last bloody episode. Feels different from the first time.


23:46

The black Mercedes is still outside. I moved my car though, round about 10 when it was dark and safe. Safe from what? I don't know. It just feels safer in the dark. The van windows really are dark. I tried to get a look inside but I couldn't see a thing.

Thursday 3 March 2011

3rd March 2011 - 10.30am

I don't know anyone that keeps a journal, and until recently I didn't know why anyone would want to. So, why have I decided to start this one? Well, one word springs immediately to mind; paranoia. It's a word that has cropped up over the past few weeks and it's one that no-one should have that jump into their head more than once, certainly not in the space of a week.

Something doesn't feel right in the house. I've felt it for some time now but every time I sit down and try to make sense of my thoughts I forget most the things I've experienced, or think I've experienced. This journal is intended as an extension of my memories, my thoughts, me.


Where to start? Well, I'm not really sure, because I'm trying not to sound too much like every other weirdo who writes a journal. I suppose I should start at the beginning, but that's not that easy as my mind is playing tricks on me and certain things are being, for want of a better word, blocked. I know there are things in this head of mine, but when I try to access them, it is a struggle. I don't just mean that it's hard to remember exact details of events, I mean it's as though something is fighting against my thoughts and blocking my access to them.


Two men were delivering boxes to the flat upstairs. I overheard the neighbours on Saturday in the close saying they were having a bathroom installed. I stood at the front door and peered through the spyglass as they brought box after box up the stairs. At first I thought it was the same guy going up and down, but at one stage he turned the corner to go down the next flight of stairs, empty handed, then came back round with another box. Twins, I suppose. It's not beyond the realms of belief is it. Uncommon, maybe, but not impossible, obviously. Silly me. There's my mind doing overtime again.


My hall floor is covered with cheap laminate. It looks good in the dark, as does most cheap stuff, but once the sun finds its way in though the windows, it's a totally different story. You can see the cracks and joins and scratches and the multitude of errors where the money should have been spent. Pay cheap; pay twice. Unfortunately false economy is something I live by. I have to control my breathing when at the spyhole, a bit like a marksman peering though his sight, preparing to take his shot. Anyway, it doesn't really matter about how my flat looks, so briefly it's a tenement building over 100 years old with 2 bedrooms and a kitchen that used to be a walk in cupboard.


I feel this journal should be some sort of amazing piece of literature, but it's not; my brain doesn't work like that. I type how I think and unfortunately a lot of things are going to come across as being slightly disjointed. I can hear more movement in the close. Will keep you posted.


12.00mid-day:

Looking through the spyhole earlier. I couldn't see much of what was going on. I could hear voices; couldn't quite make out what they were saying, sounded foreign. One of the guys stood and stared at my door. I swear he knew I was there. Felt a piercing pain in my eye. It must have been nerves.


14.00:

They're still bringing boxes up. How big is this bathroom. There's definitely two guys. They're both dressed identically. Dark blue overalls, white t-shirt, black boots (probably steel toecaps), and they both have beards. Must be some novelty twin thing. You'd think at least one of them would shave the beard. They look a bit like Mike McShane from Who's Line Is It Anyway.


18.00:

There hadn't been any activity for a while then it got dark. The two guys carried up three large, long boxes. I joked to myself that they could have been coffins.

The thought still enters my head every now and again.


19.17:

Those two guys left just before 7. I waited until the downstairs door closed, then ran into the lounge. I felt like an old man peering behind the curtains and between the blinds trying to get a better view. The two guys got into the back of a black Mercedes Benz Vito. The windows were tinted, so I couldn't see who drove it away. I heard someone cough upstairs and I thought on that old adage: It's not the coughing that carries you off, it's the coffin they carry you off in.


22.10:

The guy from upstairs is so thin. I always thought that he had aids or something. Thanks to my ignorance on that particular subject. I remember seeing a t-shirt in a small shop in Glasgow many years ago, it read:

AIDS

Don't Fuck With Me!


At the time, I thought it was funny and very clever. Twenty years or so on, I'm not so sure it was any of them.


23.50:

Not much noise from upstairs. They must have turned in for the night. It's our turn to clean the stairs tomorrow. Typical, the amount of traffic it's had today. Bastards!