Sock Free Hideaway

BEATS OF LOVE 

105. Love & Hate in a Different Time (Greg Wilson & Che mix) by Gabriels

WHEN I was younger every other weekend threw up some dark art shit. Now, with the wisdom that comes with age on my side, it has become a bi-annual event, throwing everything momentarily up in the air. The horror is not knowing how it's going to land.

Last year it was traversing the line between being with folk that liked me whilst being in the same company as folk who hated my guts. Needless to say I ended up with the folk who hated my guts and then the dark art shit happened.

This year I thought 'great, finally, no weird dark art shit' but then my kitchen roof began dripping water. Less than a week later I now know how sophisticated, calculating, and facilitated by Google rogue traders have become as I've shelled out a small fortune to have even more damage done to my old roof. Google not only guarantees their labour but points folk toward articles that call it an emergency. Inviting panic and poor judgement. 

The day after I felt violated and stupid and guilty coz that money could've put some big smiles on my missus face. I have acted on the advice of the CAB more as a tick-box exercise coz already the bankrupt business site credentials used to procure my custom are already down with another up and running. I suppose there's no end to bankrupt business web pages online. Would I have paid this stupidity tax to not instead scare myself in front of daytime telly so I could do things I enjoy? Definitely. I would however have rather paid it weekly rather than in one inconvenient, untimely lump sum. I can spare folk daytime telly hell by saying the words Trustpilot and Martin Lewis. 

That this particular rogue trader passed me the parcel that contained this beauty means I can almost forgive him. Almost, being the operative word.