Fire in my hands Tuesday, 31 October 2017

I am a lucky person. More than I care to believe. In fact, a lot of the time I don't realise how bloody lucky I am. A roof over my head while some don't have that. A pillow under my head, when some have cardboard or concrete. Feet that move me, even if they also happen to have arthritis. Some have less.

My partner and I have been together for seven years. Seven good, long years. All this time she has loved me and put up with me, and continues to do so to this very day. I am damn lucky to have found such a jewel.

When I stop to think about it, I have had some right lousy partners over the years. I have been treated like proper sh*t by some people, and then allowed myself to sink to the very depth of crying and mourning when they even ended. Such a fool. One ex-partner took time out of her life to send me the following missives:


iF i EVER SEE YOU.. YOU ARE DEAD.. I HAVE A HIT SQUAD OUT FOR YOUR BLOOD.

i Want to see your blood on the floor...

No f*cker wants a c*nt head.

I hope your cock falls off and falls in acid.

Clearly the work of an undesirable person. And many a time I cried over losing her. Can you believe that? I actually shed tears for that person? Another ex-partner also could not get through life without telling people that I have "a face like a hound", and that I deserved to "die a painful death". Again, I shed tears for that specimen. What was I thinking? What did I know?

Well, seven years and no "itch" - whatever the hell that is supposed to be. Keep me grateful, and keep me lucky, and keep on for many more years please.

And now a video, which includes some strange bloke putting on a Birmingham accent.



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