The Roots of My Sad-ism..

This weekend, as you've probably already guessed, I went home to stay with my mum and dad.

The main reason, okay it was to get fed and have something other than pasta with cup-a-soup as a cheap ass sauce solution, but I was also went back to help the rents sort out the loft, or if your a posh Southerner or American, the attic.

Now our loft has been a source of mystery for many years for me, because I've never been able to go anywhere near it.

Now this isn't beause the rents banned me or anything, it was due to a loft lid hitting me on the bonce incident back in '93 when I was about 4, and I have been shit scared to go anywhere near it when the lid has been off since.

Now though, was my time to have the loft experience without actually getting into the loft, coz the stuff was coming to me! And oh my god, (apologies for the blastphemy) I have no idea how the ceilings in our house have never fallen down over the years.

There was so much stuff, which can honestly only be described as shit, pilled up in there and so much of it carried questions over the keepment. The item which shocked me the most was this badboy:




Now these are unworn so you need not panic. These belong to my dear father and originate from the 1970's. He did state he never was a fan of them, but I did question why he kept them.

At least I know now that I can blame my sad, pathetic life on genetics..

Listening to: Ida Maria - Oh My God