Oh hey, you know what I’m really sick of now? TV commercials that show the basketball court in the park next to Central Road in Kingsland. It’s become shorthand for a hip innercity location, because there’s the Bond Street overbridge in the background, a bit of the North-Western motorway flowing under that, some trees and grass, and of course the basketball court because that’s so hip and urban.

That park is just down the road from the Mind Control Cult headquarters, and it’s not all that hip and urban. I don’t think I’ve ever seen cool young Polynesian guys playing basketball and/or rapping. I’ve seen people playing touch, and once there was a guy asleep under a tree, but no basketball.

I think that now the park has appeared in a Telecom commercial the basketball court in front of the Bond Street overbridge can be considered a cliche. Make it stop.

Abandon ship

I was stopped at some traffic lights and I happened to glance at the vehicle registration card, stuck to the windscreen in its little plastic sleeve. I was trying to read the expiry date, which was a little hard to do because it was backwards and slightly obscured by a seatbelt reminder message printed on the plastic sleeve. But from what I could see, the registration expired in August, Ok, cool. Then I looked closer. August 2002. Uh oh.

So I after I dropped my clothes off at the Chinese laundry I went off to the vehicle testing station to get a warrant of fitness. My car failed that because the two front tyres were worn. Over at the tyre place down the road I discovered that they were so worn that there were bits of non-rubber stuff showing through. The tyre guy said it was due to the wheels not being aligned properly. So new tyres today, alignment tomorrow and then I should be able to get a warrant of fitness and then get the registration.

While I was waiting for the new tyres to be fitted I read a book in that park in Kingsland. It was nice (both the book and the park). Waiting to get the tyres done also meant that I didn’t get to pick up my washing before the laundry closed. So until tomorrow I’m stuck in my laundry day clothes, which feels feels a little strange.

Some girls dream of having a sugar daddy who’ll buy them jewellery and take them out to dinner at expensive restaurants. I wouldn’t mind a sugar daddy who’ll buy me tyres and pay for wheel alignment, man.