I'm no scholar love...

Just witnessed a massive group of illiterate pikey kids standing around a Northern line map trying to work out where they were going and how to get there. Lesson: go to school kids!

Now I'm off to see M and P. The day has mainly been emails about how excited we are to see each other. Apart from mine which mainly said, "When will this shitty day end???" There's love right there


-- Posted from my iPhone

Sweet Charity

Whilst I haven't set myself resolutions per se I have decided that 2011 is going to be the year that I don't get angry about things I can't change. Mainly because I can't change them so it's really a waste of energy and makes me angry. And then I'm angry about something I can't change and the whole thing is pointless. Thus far things that I have not got angry about is the man who would have been in my lap had he moved 2mm to his left on the train this evening, the sudden change of desk at work that was announced at 10:00 on the first day back to work and the fact that my new colleague's existence seems to be there solely to wind me up. No I didn't get angry about them. I had a cup of tea and felt much, much better.

Something I noticed today was charity. This morning I got a train that takes me pretty much all the way to work without having to use the tube and affords me an extra 40 minutes shut eye. Result. As I alighted at my change about station (6 minutes between arrival and connecting train) and waited with the other sardines to ascend the stairs I spied a man collecting for a charity for the blind. He was pretty old with his bag between his feet, presumably because his hands were tied up holding his collection box. As I hurried past I noticed that I wasn't the only one hurrying past. Everyone was. He was surrounded by shedloads, and I mean shedloads, of people and not one was chipping him a bit of change. And as he stood there I noticed his smile. The word which immediately sprung to mind was beatific. And it was. He was the most serene man in the station. And shamefully I walked past, not even checking for change because I didn't want to miss my train. Never mind the fact that there is another train 15 minutes after that one.

Then this evening I was walking through a different train station and there was another man collecting and he was actually blind. This time around I have 20 minutes between connecting trains and again I noticed that no one was donating. And he was just stood there, mute, with his donation box. This time I walked past thinking that I had no change (I am broke as a joke because I spend too much money on fancy pants. But on the upside my tits when I have a bra on look like I'm a bouncy 17 year old - we'll move swiftly on from when said help is removed). I got a few steps away and decided that my assumption was a cop out and that it wouldn't hurt me to have a look for some change. I was genuinely surprised to find a couple of quid languishing in the corner of my purse begging not to be spent on an M&S meal for lunch when I could have brought something from home had I not been so lazy. And so I granted my money's wish and put it in the box and walked off. I have now added, 'make lunch at home and give what I would have spent one day a week on lunch to a charity box'.

Then I came home, had a bath, read my new Elle magazine that came in today whilst drinking tea and splish splashing. And now I'm listening to French music. My favourite things to do. Because like it says in Zombieland (how embarrassing that I have only watched this in the last week) - Enjoy the little things [Kind of resolution no. 3 for 2011]

Arrrrrggggghhhhh

I love this. Bound by restraint. Sadface.

Noel

And just like that I say that a dinosaur on a bike reminds me of my boyfriend and he purchases me a dinosaur kigu. I would say that I heart it more than anything in the world (comfortable? Yes. Worn all Christmas? Yes? Room for a thousand mince pies? Definitely) but that would be crass.

Christmas was textbook so I won't bore you with the details, ate a lot, opened presents, watched the Royle Family Christmas Special, yawn, yawn etc etc.

Christmas does make everyone go a teeny bit mental though doesn't it? For example, on Christmas Eve I went in to town with my mum for some "quality time" (or ideas on what to get family we don't really like and only see once a year as well as the neighbours who are lovely but seem to think we don't eat as they constantly bring their leftovers around - which is just strange quite frankly). Having decided to purchase a fancy vase for the neighbours mum decided we had to buy flowers to go in said vase. Fair enough, I can see the logic in that. Off we went to M&S that fine purveyor of flowers. Now my mum loves lilies. Loves them. Even if they are a sign of death and their pollen stench actually puts my dad and sister off their food she persists in buying them. And I'm not sure if you know this but they're also a flower signifying death. I murmered this as she headed towards them for the neighbours. One of whom nearly DIED of Cancer this year (and for once I'm not even exaggerating for the sake of hilarity). No, no. I was not to be listened to. Only the finest white lilies for the neighbours, one of whom nearly died (did I mention that?). It is also important to mention that the flowers have a 10 day guarantee. They are M&S after all.

We get to the counter and she plonks them down. So far, so textbook. The nice lady scans them through and before Mum puts her card in to the magic machine she asks, "What happens if they die before the 10 days is up?". Do you think this woman has EVER been asked this question before? Ever? Well I can tell you the answer is probably NO. As I fell through the floor with embarrassment she did this, "Er, er. Well.". ER ER WELL was her answer. However, she recovered well from the initial answer and said, "Well I suppose you'd keep the receipt and then keep the plastic and then if they died bring them both back?". See my insertion of a question mark there? It wasn't an answer, it was a query to someone who wasn't there. Sensing trouble, a colleague bounded over to come to assistance but she was as useless as the first. Having managed to pick myself up off the floor and embarrassment beginning to abate in to wheezy laughing I felt it my Christmas duty to help a sister out. "Mum", I said, "If they die you say, oh dear those lovely flowers died although I am not ultimately shocked by this as ALL FLOWERS DIE WHICH IS THE POINT OF THEM". The woman looked at me gratefully. My mother, she did not. She punched me in the arm. The fleshy bit. At the top. Hard. In front of the M&S ladies. It must truly have been Christmas for the violence to begin. But the grateful look meant I continued. Because I was bringing Christmas Cheer. "Anyway, we're giving them to the neighbours. What are you going to do? On the 10th day of Christmas you're going to knock on the door and ask them if the flowers are still alive because if they're not you have the receipt and you can get some more? You. Are. Mental. So much so these nice ladies are going to go home tonight and tell their family about the mental lady asking what she should do when flowers die". The grateful lady piped up, "Oh no, we won't. It's a good question". But you could see on her face that she was totally going to tell her family. And I bet she totally did.

petitami

This reminds me of my boyfriend. I don't know why. He doesn't even ride a bike.

Just finished watching A Single Man. I cried. I loved it.

This is what I should do...