New to the site? Delve into the archive Information about me List of collected quotations My poetry sites Other links: The ineffable Michelle Infinite Fish The Echelon Project The 80s (my era) Move to Mars See Ann Widdecombe dance Think I complain a lot? The Yarn |
Wednesday 14.11.01 Two vaguely humbling events in the last 24 hours have reminded me that I really do have the cerebral capacity of a hamster. Firstly, the sheer amount of time I have spent pondering a problem this morning which a friend put to me last night. It's a tricky conundrum - if you're at a mate's, staying overnight, and you use the loo during the night, is it better to flush and wake them, or not to flush, and leave them to peaceful slumber? I appreciate both that this isn't the most pleasant of topics to debate, and also that it's completely pointless (so I'll leave this very soon, promise,) but I must just report that I came down heavily on the side of flushing, whereas he (I will not embarrass him by naming him - you know who you are...) was completely against it. Enough said. The second is a conversation about food with Michelle last night. Now, the fact that talking to her made me feel dim isn't anything new, but last night was especially demonstrative of my lack of brain a lot of the time. I seem to remember confessing that I had cooked her a bolognese which was two days out of date, and tasted a bit funny. From this admission, we moved on to exactly what I could cook, aside from Spaghetti and mince. 'Chicken?' 'No.' 'Mashed potato?' 'No.' 'Rice?' 'Yes! No.' This, essentially, is how it went for a few minutes - it gradually dawning on us that by rights I should probably be dead, given that I can't cook, well, anything. So aside from feeling sufficiently lowly, I also am going around today feeling somewhat lucky to be alive. Thursday 15.11.01 Claire made my day at 8.15 this morning. She comes down to breakfast, walks in, and says good morning. Tentatively, I ask how her trip to 'Starlight Express' was the previous night. 'It was terrible,' she says, 'I mean, why does anyone dress up as a train? They just look silly.' Saturday 16.11.01 Must be quick as am currently betraying my principles by sitting in EasyEverything (more like PriceyEverything), but I thought I might brighten your day by telling you how crap mine is, has been, and is going to be. Firstly, there is the MAJOR conflict of interests tonight between an LGB pissup and a Catholic one, both same time, same place (fuuuuuuuck!); and then of course there's the mildly depressing state of work - store is full of fat, ugly, mad, smelly old women and there is an NUS demonstration taking place in Trafalgar Sqare this afternoon. Joy. Monday 18.11.01 Weird and predominantly crap weekend after the acute martyrdom of Saturday's shift. Went out for the LGB/Catholic pissup on Saturday night, which was a nightmare in itself, and at which the shit very nearly hit some serious fan. Why I just arrogantly presumed I could blag the thing I'm not entirely sure, but never mind. So that was that. Yesterday I got up feeling like shit and looking worse, and had a long-ish talk with Michelle about things, which was lovely as usual. Went to lunch with the chaplains (very civilised, despite several embarrassing conversational lapses), and then home for the evening. Si was delighted when I phoned him from home - not because he was particularly joyful that I was there, prodigally returned and all that, but more that I could therefore pick him up from the bloody station. Now, you must understand that I was a danger to public safety during Summer, when I was driving every day and getting lots of practice. Imagine what last night was like, not having driven for 2 months. I shat myself getting behind the wheel of the bloody car again. I hate driving so much. Anyway, it all went alright, despite driving there in the dark with no lights on and picking up the wrong keys, thus locking myself out of the house. Also made the stupid mistake this morning at breakfast of asking Irish John (whom Mich and I gigglingly refer to as 'Aggressive John') how his weekend was, and had to then sit there nodding and laughing spordically as he told a ten-minute story of which I caught four words. But I don't care, as Becky definitely made my weekend on Saturday night. Was feeling like crap, lying in bed and wondering why life just has to be so complicated sometimes, and she sent me a text message, roughly along the lines of 'I really think if Anna Karenina had read Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus she wouldn't have killed herself. It's obvious that Vronsky is a rubber band and so will spring back eventually. Stupid cow.' Love you, Becky. Love you loads. |
