Get Rid!

...which was nice.

2007-11-27T12:17:00.000Z

Sonorous, clanging empty vessel on the Oxfordshire train.

Yes, yes, it's Georgian.
6 bedrooms yes.
Heavenly.
Only 100 yards to the river and we have frontage rights.
Yes, well of course, Tom loves to fish.
Yes, and when we started on the conservatory we found a sunken kitchen garden.
Delightful.
A snip at 1.4.

The woman next to me whispered "gosh, it's awfully loud today isn't it"
It was. A little too loud to be an accident.
Believe me it's not jealousy, it's the lack of tact and, for want of a better word, class.

The next stop will be parvenu parkway.

10 mph brains doing 85.

2007-06-04T13:28:00.001Z

Went to Alton Towers on the weekend, which is fun because you get to see jakers in their natural environment. The others being TKMax, Local Magistrate's Courts and of course the Pub Brawl and Wedding Punch Up. Rural Staffordshire was a sea of beer guts, white trainers and Croydon facelifts.

All in, a great day and I did have a right good laugh n that.

BUT…

Just where do you get off charging £4 for parking, given you are already stiffing everyone for 35 bar to get in and there is NO PUBLIC TRANSPORT. And you have to buy a bloody token to pay the parking man, because bizarrely, actual money is unsuitable.

That’s not the real issue though, no that would be the imbecilic motorists racking up the length of the trip home, through irritating thoughtless driving techniques.

"typical motorway scenes"

There was a recent government announcement, that on all motorways the inside lane would be lifted and moved to the right of the current outside lane thus providing extra driving space. Reports suggested it would not be missed, as no bugger ever used it.

Critics argued that motorists could simply all move left a bit into the vacant left hand lane, thus solving the problem. This was dismissed as a ridiculous concept that no-one would ever adopt. Plus as proved in the1998 study by Ricketts and Bletherwit, all German and Swedish cars cease to function if driven on the inside lane. They did add a footnote that it was possible the drivers were simply complete pricks. On that score the study was inconclusive, more data required.

Seriously, what is with you people? Why can no-one drive properly? I have taken to gratuitously undertaking. I like the inside lane, you can travel at the same speed or faster than the rest of the traffic, but with a 1.5 mile braking distance.

Get Left, or Get Rid of your car.

When would you like that served?

2007-05-18T07:18:00.000Z

I was out dining with my lady-friends at the weekend and we decided to try a new noodle bar close to S.

We ordered our food, each having a starter and a main, whereupon the waiter posed a corker:

“Would you like your starter before your main course?”

Which he immediately followed up with:

“Well, it doesn’t matter, it probably won’t all arrive at the same time or in the right order anyway.”

We were stunned!

I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed with his honesty, or disappointed in the virtually promised failure of what I deem to be a fairly key component of running a restaurant – that is bringing the right dishes to the table at the right time, and have the diners respective dishes be served at roughly the same time.

As it turned out, they did manage to bring all the starters before the mains, and the main courses were only 5 minutes apart. And it has to be said, the food was very good, even if S & A had to eat theirs with a sauna spoon.

Still, the rest of the evening was a resounding blast.

(Oh yeah – we did also create a blog over the course of the evening, but I can’t remember the name, the login name or the password – and I don’t believe we managed to write anything on it either – just as could be expected between us).

Two for One!

2007-05-10T08:24:00.000Z

I went to buy a pair of shoes for my daughter the other day, and was horrified to discover that a single pair of shoes for her amounted to the same price as 2 pairs for me.

To be fair to the shop, the shoes for me were an absolute bargain, BUT if you can knock the prices down on adult footwear, then surely you can reduce the price of kiddies shoes, given that they are the ones that need them more often (what with that habit children have of growing).

I know that this is all just business savvy, and they sting the parents where they know it hurts the most, but seriously!

What shocked me more is that a pair of shoes for a 6 year old in this well-publicised discount outlet should cost more than a pair from Clarks. To me, Clarks are the don in kiddies shoes, and consequently they deserve to charge £30 a pair. Cheapo retailers do not!

(But I love my new shoes!)

One Branch

2007-04-23T13:53:00.000Z

It's been a while since I lasted posted anything here, but I struggle to find things to blog about. Not that there aren't everyday occurences that make me want to gouge the eyes out of the offender, or events that have me wishing that I'd stayed at home that day, but by the time I get to a position where I can write about them, I've either forgotten, or the rage has passed.

Maybe I should branch out of me tree.

How long does it take to freeze?

2007-01-26T10:23:00.000Z

Its the coldest week of the year so far. What better time could there possibly be to switch off the heating in my block of flats to carry out the maintenance?

There's nothing like a well thought out plan. And this is nothing like a .........

Are we being secretly filmed for a Far East game show?

Where are those scissors??

2006-12-12T16:45:00.000Z

I went to get my haircut the other day. Not an experience that I’d normally find anything interesting to write about, but on this occasion, ‘twas not to be.

It was the same salon that I’ve been going to since I moved into the area nearly a year ago, but every time I’ve been, I’ve had a different stylist (indeed can’t say I’ve ever seen one member of staff twice). This last guy was an experience.

I know it’s something in the training (or the genes) of hairdressers to be quite open about themselves, and in some cases, bore their clients shitless with endless chitter chatter. (I wish they wouldn’t, but hey ho!)

Within 2 minutes of me sitting in the chair, the cutter of the day had managed to let slip that he has a highly addictive personality, and is just recovering from a severe and lengthy dependence to steroids, coke and crack. (I notice he managed to slip in the question of what it is I do for a living first though, just in case.)

Clearly not satisfied with my somewhat ambivalent response to that news, he then went on to tell me about his recent diagnosis of bipolar disorder, and the medication he’s been prescribed to keep that under control, which was starting to make him feel queasy as he’d failed to take his morning dose with any food that day.

So, right at the juncture when he’d cut one half of my hair (ie. one side was now 3 inches shorter than the other) he announces his need to take a break and get a sugar rush before he keels over.

Upon his return, he’s seems delighted to let me know of his relief at being able to see again!!!!!!! I make a mental note to have a VERY good look at the back mirror look before paying, unlike the usual cursory ‘that looks fine’, when truthfully I haven’t seen a thing.

The rest of the sitting is relatively uneventful, assisted I think, by my determination to converse no more (head buried in magazine sorts that out fairly quickly).

It wasn’t’ til I was relaying the experience to my other half later, that he pointed out this was probably a bet by a fellow colleague to freak his customers out. If that’s the case, then fair do’s and I’m sure he had a laugh doing it. Although, he can rest assured he’s convinced me to find another hairdresser next time.

If it was all true, then he needs to re-evaluate the difference between idle / mindless chit chat, and deeply personal baggage, taking into account the added nervousness of the client as he relays this whilst standing so very close armed with sharp implements!

BTW, in case you’re wondering, the cut did look fine in the end, which further supports his nib’s theory that it was in fact all a wind up. Ha Ha.

If the Shoe Fits.....

2006-09-26T15:36:00.000Z

My feet are a size 5.

They have been a size 5 for about 20 years. I don’t anticipate they will change much in the years to come, and with it being just the one digit to remember, I don’t feel the need to get my feet re-measured each time I venture into a shoe shop because I’ve forgotten that my feet are a size 5.

So why is it, when realising that size 5 is unavailable in my chosen style, and in what I can only assume is a desperate attempt to make a sale, do shoe shop assistants insist on offering me a size 4 or a size 7 (it appears that size 6 is equally unattainable).

Are they likely to fit?

No!!!

If they don’t fit, am I likely to wear them?

No!!!

So, and this may come as a surprise, on that basis –

I AIN’T GONNA BUY ‘EM.

So stop wasting my time (and yours – though I care less about that), and sort out your stock control. Size 5 (and 6) are fairly average women’s shoe sizes, and by that very token, should be purchased in larger supply. (Hey, you even have to be in retail management to work that one out!)

2006-08-21T14:52:00.001Z

Dial M for Muppet

Yesterday, whilst bending down next to the open lift in my building, my mobile phone slipped out of my bag, slid through the 1 inch gap between the lift and the floor (the downside of evolving from the ‘brick’), and went hurtling down 4 flights to land in what must be several pieces in the murky hole at the bottom of the lift shaft.

Once I recovered from the initial sensation of slitting my own throat at the mere thought of being without an instant means of contact, plus losing the hundreds of names and numbers and some highly questionable photos, I started to apply some perspective to the situation, recognising that it is only a phone. It is not a living being, or a million pounds, nor in fact anything that really matters in the scheme of things.

I then began to get quite excited that after 7 years of paying £5 a month for insurance with my mobile firm, that I’d actually be able to make it all worthwhile.

How naïve, how very naïve of me!

Apparently, since I know the actual whereabouts of the device, under the rules of this particular insurance policy, a replacement cannot be issued until the original has been retrieved. This is despite the fact it will take all manner of efforts to retrieve it and, lets not forget, is likely to be in many pieces (4 flights!!!) so, without question, will not be in working order.

Had I lost my phone on the tube, left it in a hotel room in Bangkok, or inadvertently lobbed it over the edge of the Grand Canyon, then I’d probably have a new handset in my possession right now.

Still, looking on the bright side – I’ve learnt lessons from the experience!

Firstly, never bend down unless all your possessions are firmly padlocked into whatever carrying receptacle you may be using!

Secondly, honesty is NOT always the best policy. Next time, I’ll report it stolen, creating un-necessary paper work for the police, adding to the inaccuracy of soaring crime figures, and all in all screwing the system up even more than it already is!!

BTW – a word of warning: Apparently, if you drop your phone down the drain, and you know which one it was, they make you call the council to retrieve it!!!! Nice job!

2006-08-10T12:59:00.000Z

You’re in a Jam. Say Cheese

Its midday. I’ve been up for 3 hours, very tired following a wedding the previous day (not mine), and heading back home 300 miles away. Its hot, I’m sweating alcohol, my head is spinning, and keeping my breakfast in its rightful place is proving harder than it should.

Then we hit traffic. The first jam was inevitable. We hit it in the other direction on the way to the wedding, so common sense dictates we’d see the arse end of it again.

We get through that one. Then we stop.

And stay stopped.

People start to turn off their engines (good to see – the environment and all), then I notice that there is no oncoming traffic on the opposite side of the crash barrier. That’s not a good sign.

People started getting out of their cars, and walking up the carriageway (as people seem to do in this situation – like finding the cause of the hold up is likely to get you moving faster!?!). A couple of young blonde-haired surfer dudes skateboard down the empty carriageway and some other guys started hoofing a ball about.

But then came the piece-de-la-resistance of traffic jam behaviour, that I have never ever seen before.

People actually started taking photos of themselves, of their families, their cars, other cars, and pretty much anything that was in their line of sight.

My question is simple. In god’s name, WHY????

What can there possibly be about sitting in a traffic jam that would ever possess anyone, however unconventional, to regard it as a memory worth savouring?

Bad enough to have to look at other people’s holiday snaps normally. But imagine if they start showing you the pic’s of: ‘this is me in the traffic jam’, ‘this is the dog in the car in the traffic jam’, ‘this is ……’.

NOOOOOOOO! It’s not right! Get Rid!

2006-08-10T12:33:00.000Z

The sound of silence

I’m fascinated by the capacity which the sound of silence has to be deafening.

I’m a city dweller, and have been so for pretty much most of my life. I recently went on a camping holiday that was quite literally in the middle of nowhere (in middle England). The stillness at night was a true wonder to behold.

The lack of police sirens, drunken party goers, repetitive drum beats, rolling rubbish bins, and other familiar urban noise was conspicuous. To actually hear trees rustling in a gentle breeze is something I only read about in period drama books, or that I last remember hearing as a young child.

Of course, like most things, there is a down-side to the beauty of such silence when on a campsite. The sheer lack of any noise meant that I was subjected to moans from the neighbouring tent as they got down to business, which subsequently put me off engaging in any such activity with my beloved (much to his disappointment). This lead to a period of persuasion on his part, refusal on mine, and the consequent exchange that ensued managed to do away with any silence that our fellow campers may have been enjoying.

So much for silence!!!

2006-07-06T18:04:00.000Z

If You Must...........

............be a city dweller and still insist on driving around in what’s virtually classified as HGV, then please, for the love of all things righteous, LEARN TO DRIVE the damn thing.

Yes, you are too big to park in small spaces. Should have though of that when you purchased the environmentalists-nightmare beast. And no, you are NOT a contender for the monster truck derby (though your driving skills would sometimes lead one to believe you were in training).

So, if you are one of those that doesn't even know the approximate dimensions of their vehicle (that’s also thick as 4x4, btw), then, please, get a driver.

For the rest of you, experiment with a more respectable and appropriately sized means of transport that doesn’t require bull bars (for that common problem of urban herd…). Lunch boxes and riding boots don’t take up that much space, you know!

2006-06-24T09:08:00.000Z

HOW BIG IS YOURS?

One thing that really bugs me is people who don't know the size of their own car!

Where I live, parking is scarce and you get to know who's been parked where for a given amount of time.

So I get superbly fucked off when I notice a spot where 2 cars have vacated, that has been taken up by some twat who leaves their car bang in the middle of an obviously oversized space, thereby preventing anyone else from parking there as well.

To witness this level of selfishness (be it down to blithe ignorance or utter arrogance) when I have had to park in a different time zone, is fucking infuriating.

On the flip side, are those like my boyfriend, who believes his car to be much shorter than it actually is. He frequently reminds me of his deluded perceptionary skill when he tries to park in spots that even a Smart car wouldn't attempt, and negotiates it part by determination, but mostly by shunting the neighbouring vehicles several inches further apart.

Still, in my book, he’s free to ‘move’ the selfish pricks who think their road tax dollar entitles them to twice as much road as the rest of us.

2006-06-21T16:19:00.000Z

7 Years? For a mirror?

So, exactly what is the score with this mirror business and 7 years bad luck?

I went into my bathroom today to discover a mirror on the floor and broken. So, who gets the bad luck?

Is it me, as the finder of it? Or is it my boyfriend, as the nong that left it balanced so precariously on the window ledge that one gust of wind blew it straight off?

Or is it all a load of complete bollocks?

I vote for bollocks!

2006-06-21T16:05:00.000Z

Blogging?

Justthought I'd see what all the fuss was about.