This Sunday evening can suck my dick

And before you ask – no, there is nothing I need to share with you, that was metaphorical.

I don’t like Sunday evenings at the best of times, but normally it just manifests in an inability to sleep properly. Today however it has aligned with another source of irritation, to produce a Go Fuck Yourself response to the end of the weekend of almost epic proportions.

I first noticed it in my teens, but when I spend too long stuck doing things I don’t really want to do, I can feel something inside me winding tighter and tighter, and getting frustrated, trapped. I get short tempered and snappy, and I stop even being able to enjoy the things I normally like. I reject everything. I need to travel, to simply be somewhere else, somewhere new.

I ran out of holiday allowance from work last November with my trip to Minneapolis, and the holiday year only reset on 1st April, so I have spent the last 6 months or so doing nothing much out of the ordinary. I went off throwing stuff and shooting things with my sister last weekend, and while it was great fun, it wasn’t enough of a departure to relieve the mental pressure.

Thankfully, it’s only a week and half until I head off to Norway again, and I am desperately looking forward to it. In the meantime, I decided yesterday to go back and revisit a place I used to go when I was a kid, the Rothschild Museum in Tring.

I guess it’s called the Natural History Museum these days. I love it there, and it really forms the backdrop to a large part of my mental landscape. Long story short, Lionel Walter Rothschild (the slightly mental son of an immensely wealthy family in late 1800’s Britain) fell in love with animals and decided that the best way to express that was to collect them. 19th Century Pokemon, I guess. He had a zebra drawn carriage and Galapagos turtles on the estate, and did all sorts of other things that you totally could not get away with now. His parents did what any loving family would do; bought him a museum to put them all in. It’s now part of the Natural History Museum family, although very little else has changed – at least in the 30 years I have been visiting.

Anyway, yesterday I was in the bird’s section and once again marvelling at the sheer size of some of them (…to be clear, they are all dead, stuffed and on display – which causes me more and more discomfort as I get older, but that’s a discussion for another time). I turned round at one point and burst out laughing when I clocked this dude looking at me. Enjoy.

Freaky Bird

A Boat Billed Heron, apparently.

One thought on “This Sunday evening can suck my dick

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