Sigh

Friday night.
Friday night in.
Friday night in on my Jack Jones.
On my Todd.
Friday night in.
On my own.
Nothing wrong with that.
Don’t have to go out.
Don’t have to see anyone.
Nearly quarter to eight.
I’ll wait ‘til nine before I put my pyjamas on.
Might wear a fresh pair.
Treat myself.
Bank Holiday and all that.
A fresh pair of jim-jams.
That’ll be nice.
Nearly quarter to eight on a Friday night.
Still light out.
Hope it gets dark soon.
Don’t want to be in my pyjamas when it’s still light.
Oh.
Now it is quarter to eight.
Just check I’ve got enough milk for the morning.
Weetabix for breakfast.
Yep, just enough milk.
Quarter to eight and I’m already thinking about tomorrow’s breakfast.
Nothing wrong with that.
Don’t have to go out.
Not everyone goes out Friday night.
Why is it so light?
Them windows need cleaning.
Vinegar and newspaper.
Might put the telly on in a bit.
Put my pyjamas on first, perhaps.
Not until nine.
I absolutely will not put my pyjamas on before nine.
Not on a Friday night.
Is it too early to pull the blinds down?
What will the neighbours think?
Pulling the blinds down on a Friday night.
And it’s not even eight.
They’ll think I’m odd.
They’ll think what’s he doing pulling his blinds down and it’s not even eight?
They’ll think I’m up to something.
They’ll think them windows need cleaning.
I can’t be cleaning my windows on a Friday night.
Not on a Friday night.
Best stay away from the windows.
No one needs to know I’m in on a Friday night.
If I keep still.
If I keep the lights off.
And don’t put the telly on.
They’ll think I’m out.
I don’t care if it’s still light out.
I’m putting my pyjamas on.
Better to be comfortable.
Now what time is Jonathan Ross on?
Ten thirty-five!
Sweet Mary Mother of Christ!
It’s only ten past eight.
On a Friday night.
On my Jack Jones.