retiredmartin

February 2026.

Back from Hull, Mrs RM taunts me with photos from her Rome weekend.

Prize if you can name this one, quite famous I reckon.

I’d been abandoned while she went off on her girls weekend, but I get to sit in my new favourite place, the big sofa at Sang Lung,

waiting for a crispy beef and Singapore rice that lasts me 3 meals while I listen to the 130 artists on the End of the Road line-up.

But by 6pm on Friday night I realise that sitting indoors all day is a mortal sin, and walk down to Sheffield station (3,877 steps).

ChatGPT tries to sell me some “events” on in town on Monday,

but I settle on the Playhouse at Hallam Uni,

where you can have craft cans with your popcorn.

I must have panicked at the choice.

There must have been stronger stuff than this, but  it’s ok.

My film choice worried ChatGPT too.

But “If I had legs I’d kick you” delights an audience of 5, none of them students. It’s the movie equivalent of a Bill Callahan album.

It’s gone half-ten when I leave,

almost tempted by the late opening of the Rutland.

But a man must have self-discipline, especially when his wife’s left him on his own.