#19 - Just a normal day
It was a normal Tuesday, or what we have now seemingly accepted as a normal Tuesday in July. It’s not 37 °C, just a mere 29 later in the day, so everything is fine. Of course it’s not, as 29 °C is a ridiculous temperature, but we’re just grateful the air doesn’t feel like it’s on fire. Just a normal day.
I prepare four breakfasts and seven drinks: chocolate chip brioche (don’t ask) with a Squishmallow bottle filled with water for my daughter, banana Weetabix and lime squash for my son (plus a lime squash to take to school), porridge with chia seeds and raisins for me and my wife, plus a squash to go for her. And coffee, one each and one for her to take to work. Not for the kids, they are lively enough. Coffee and porridge downed by 7am, I am somewhat functional, so begin my relentless badgering of the kids to get a move on so they aren’t late for school. Just a normal day.
Listen, I want everyone to be able to read my inspiring words on video games and things, but I also have bills to pay and a desire for nice things (like Branston's baked beans). If you can, I'd really appreciate you upgrading your subscription to a paid plan. Or, if you are mega loaded, just scroll to the bottom and tip me an obscene amount of money. I've heard whales (high-paying fans) exist - maybe that's you!
Sunblock on, daughter’s pack-lunch packed, Pac-Man cap squeezed onto my large head. Off on the school-run I go, a 12-minute walk with my daughter. We stand waiting to cross a busy road for what seems like an eternity. I swear about five times. My daughter says I shouldn’t say the “S” word. None of my swears were the “S” word. Eventually a truck carrying two small diggers stops, and in turn seems to shame the driver coming in the opposite direction to stop too. We cross. School is attended on time. Just a normal day.
I need to make a detour to Lidl on the way home to pick up some bits. The shopping list is as bizarre as shopping lists for bits are, reading like an old man’s incoherent thoughts.
- Pink doughnut
- Washing up liquid (apple)
- Veggie samosa
- Veggie sushi (single block thing)
- Coffee (if on offer)
- Cheap yoghurts
I manage to get them all, but not the coffee as it’s neither reduced nor in the super large XXL size that they sometimes do. I also scoot down the middle of Lidl aisle to see if any Nee-Doh cubes are in stock. They are not. Good job I didn’t mention those to my daughter. Just a normal day.
I’m back home, second coffee made and almost swallowed whole. Third coffee is made immediately. Just a normal day.
I’m writing on my laptop by 8:45am, buzzing off six espresso shots, so I make the most of it. Words flow out of my fingers like an artisanal baker piping out doughnuts. An article is formed in about 30 minutes. I hate almost all of it, but it exists, and that’s the hard part done. Just a normal day.
I have a grocery delivery set to arrive between 9:30am and 10:30am, so I can’t find peace knowing that could happen at any moment. My phone rings, which I answer (not normal), and it’s the delivery driver.
“Do you mind if I deliver your groceries early?” he asks, hopefully.
“That’s absolutely fine,” I reply, thankful that it’s only 9:20 and it’ll be over and done with.
“I’ll be with you in one minute,” he says.
He wasn’t lying. The doorbell goes off practically as I put my phone down.
I operate at double speed to get all the groceries out of the delivery crates, as I must make sure he doesn't think I’m slacking. No time to put anything away at this point, just out of the crates, placed anywhere as quickly as possible so I don’t give this complete stranger the sense that I’m taking the piss. Just a normal day.
Everything is good, we exchange pointless pleasantries and I go to close the door. But then a question, out of nowhere.
“Sorry,” he says, the door now open again. “Do you know where the nearest toilet is around here?”
“Ermmm,” I reply, desperately thinking of where to direct him.
“The park is your best bet,” I add, happy with myself for thinking of a good answer on the spot.
I give him directions and then he leaves. Not a normal day.
It’s about 9:40 and I’m rewriting large chunks of the article I wrote. Then it hits me like a wave of shame and regret. Lidl would have been by far a better option. But then even more, greater shame arrives... why didn’t I just invite the delivery driver in to use my toilet? I’ve got two. What an idiot.
It’s 10:30 now and it’s time for another coffee. What if he didn’t find his way to the park and had to piss in a used Jimmy’s Coffee bottle? What if he didn’t have a bottle and had to piss across one of his van’s rear tires like a dog? It’s fine, I think to myself, drivers probably aren’t allowed to use customer toilets.
11:30, and I’m sort of happy with the article now, but I can’t stop thinking about the delivery man. I Google “Is a delivery driver allowed to use a customer’s toilet?” for some reason expecting to find a result that’s helpful. I don’t find anything other than a website that appears to be for grans to talk to each other, on which one gran mentions how she allowed a driver in to use her toilet. I feel bad.
The day goes on but I’m still haunted by this decision/lack of awareness. I hope I never see him again - the stress would just be too much.
It’s late now. I lay in bed unable to sleep. My eyes stare at the shadow a cobweb is making that has the appearance of a moving bug. What if he actually asked if he could use my toilet, I wonder. What if I just heard that plea for help and I immediately gave him directions away from my house? Am I a bad person?
I won’t be getting another grocery delivery for a week. Maybe I’ll switch to another supermarket just to be safe.
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No clever segue into video games this week. Sorry folks. I think we can summarise most the big gaming news of the week by saying everyone is awful and everyone hates everyone else. We’re either on the precipice of the greatest sales events in video game history (GTA 6) or the start of a video game collapse so monumental we’ll all revert to talking about those old games where you use a button to blow air into a water-filled screen to propel hoops onto spindles.
This newsletter isn’t entirely about video games - in fact, this one was about my sudden sense of cringe for possibly doing the wrong thing. I’ll have a think about some other bits and pieces and round them up in the quick reviews below. I’m a critic, too, you see.
Update: My wife has confirmed that I am in fact a cretin for not inviting the delivery man in to use our toilet. You live and learn. I will live in constant shame.
Things I can review:
- Nobody 2 (SKY/Now TV): Having enjoyed Nobody, I watched the sequel with high hopes. It struggles somewhat given it can’t retell the mystery of who main character Hutch is, so it ends up feeling like part 2 of the original film instead of a proper sequel. It’s fun, and once again I enjoyed watching Bob as a highly trained old man, but this just doesn’t have the pizazz of the original. 3 redacted military files out of 5 secret gun lockers.
- Plus-Plus (toy shops): This is the latest building toy my kids are into. It’s sort of like Lego, but all the pieces are two plus signs joined together. The kits come with guides to build certain things, but there’s also a lot of freeform play encouraged. I built a ghost with my daughter, which I’m pretty pleased with. 5 glow in the dark pieces out of 5 storage boxes.
- Grocery deliveries (most supermarkets): While getting your groceries delivered is highly convenient and a better use of time than trawling around a store with a trolley for an hour, I don’t recommend the social interaction that sometimes occurs. 1 awkward conversation out of 5 requests for help.
