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While the cat is away... While I was out last night near St Paul's for Tom's mini blogmeet, Him Indoors and The Boy decided they would have a proper boys night in, they had a dinner which -if I believe the Tesco receipt on the desk is anything to go by- consisted of 1 bottle of Bombardier, 1 bottle of Broadside and a sausage and peperoni pizza and watched a nerdy programme about maps. My dinner was immensely healthier since it consisted of 3 halves of bitter. Only took a few pictures and I have been told if I use the one I wanted to post I will be hunted down and my bones used etc... So instead I will post something completely uninteresting but which may raise a smile from those who were present.
And I nearly forgot, today I got to ride in a lovely, shinny, yellow ambulance, on the front seat...and the EMT I was sharing said front seat was easy on the eye. Well I suppose there have to be good things to make up for days like today when a few people conspire to make you doubt humanity more than usual (mind you it confirmed who I would like near me when an aeroplane falls of the sky next)
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1.10.04 22:46 |
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How does the song go again ? …. Du berceau à la tombe, c’est dur pour tout le monde…ffice The song seems to reflect my current mood so well (feeling old and boring and yearning for a new beginning). Funny how I preferred it when another Daho song called des attractions desastres made me smile knowingly ("de la vie faire ripailles, avant que j'm'en aille" or "mes 20 and sainte verge, enfin bon j'abrège"). I went to see Kate and her new baby and the conversation quickly turned to the mini mid-life crisis a few of us seem to be experiencing at the moment. It seems to centre on the feeling that there has to be more to life than just doing the same never-ending stream of repetitive tasks. A feeling that maybe if we could take control instead of just floating along life would be so much more enjoyable. Yet at the same time there is this guilt that complaining about it when our lives are not that bad is somehow being ungrateful. We have roofs over our heads, food on the table, our children, our partners and we are reasonably healthy so why want more when we could have been born in ffice:smarttags" /> We are old enough to know that the grass is not always as green as it first appears on the other side yet there is this nagging feeling… Maybe it’s a 30 something suburban mum thing. Maybe it’s the price to pay for a lack of ambition and direction. Maybe it’s just the days getting shorter. Maybe it’s realising that one day I will actually say all the sarcastic things I currently only think when being shouted out instead of remaining civil to people who think it is actually my job to take their abuse. Time for some tough decisions methinks. Unless somebody out there has some of the answers on how to get out of a rut when you could win gold if procrastination was an Olympic sport.
** can't get the size of the font to behave, sorry. |
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5.10.04 23:47 |
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ffice" />|
Life is full of questions Stroppycow: XYZ, good afternoon. Caller: Do you speak any languages ? Stroppycow: We can arrange for interpreters for quite a few, which language did you have in mind ? Caller: Urdu. Do you speak Urdu ? Stroppycow: No, I don't, but we can arrange for somebody who can to translate for you. Caller: Why don't you speak urdu ? Stroppycow: Because I don't ? (slight change in intonation suggesting I am unsure how to answer and that was all I could come up with). |
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8.10.04 14:40 |
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Heads will roll... Well not quite but soon my name will be written in mud alongside Christine's at The Boy's school. I am about to become a difficult parent. As we speak Him Indoors is checking a letter I have drafted, addressed to the Head and copied to a local Councillor, which lists some of the Head's shortcomings. Up to now I had avoided confrontation and only kept my rants for the School Mums' chats. I was worried The Boy may be embarrassed. No more. I feel that if my chid prefers to spend 2 days stuck behind a desk in my office to going to school, there is not much I can do to make things worse for him. But I will not stop there, next there will be the parents' evening where is teacher will get a piece of my mind (I will go equiped). And once I have placated the school the world had better watch out ! |
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10.10.04 22:53 |
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A mixed day Bad - I realised I am probably more jaded than usual. On noticing a slight bump all I could think was "haven't you already given enough to society already ?". When I asked somebody for an explanation, all I could think was "please make it an original lie, please, please , please, if it is I might even let you get away with it", and all the while I knew I was going to be disappointed. Good - Bumped into an old friend I had not seen for a while and she is going to organise some get together or other at some point in November. V-bad - pondering about some stuff at work which diminished further my faith in human nature. Made me ask myself questions about the way I raise my child and made me wonder about the reasons why he is such a compliant little boy. I would like to think he behaves well because he likes to have the approval of the people who love him. I would hate to think it is because he is scared of me. I wonder if I'll ever find out. Smug: school newsletter touched on the main shortcoming mentioned in my letter to the Head of The Boy's school (only with a lovely twist, he confirmed he is of the invertebrate variety as he won't be making the decision to remedy it, he'll ask the governors - makes me want to shout "you are meant to be the leader... lead!!!!!") ;-) - I may not speak Urdu but I can speak French and it came in useful today.
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12.10.04 23:37 |
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It's started already The fireworks season started last night in 2 of the neighbourood gardens. Seems a bit earlier than usual. It normally starts around halloween, goes on to Guy Fawkes and then Diwali then Eid, Christmas and New Year. I spent a good ten minutes looking a calendars trying to find out which celebration takes place on 19th October. Couldn't find one. Maybe they just like fireworks. |
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20.10.04 10:57 |
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Went into London last night. This time I remembered the tube rules and avoided eye contact. I used to be fluent in tube rules but because I currently use pedal power more than LU. When you cycle in an urban environment eye contact is a survival technique, it helps you work out if the driver of a particular car has seen you or not. It is hard to switch off. However when I went to the last blogmeet I happened to make eye contact on the Piccadily Line only to find the chap then followed me onto the Central Line into a crowded carriage and decided to start a conversation "where are you going ?" "to meet my boyfriend for a dinner out" (statement accompanied with nice but dim smile and obvious flashing of engagement ring while my a voice in my head is scolding me for being a div, something along the lines of: why did you do it? you had a book, there was no excuse for even looking up...). Anyway I decided not to make the same mistake again and this time my eyes stayed firmly on The Amateur Marriage (Anne Tyler). I kept my ears opened for announcements worth hearing and the driver on the Central line did not disappoint "if you are travelling on this line you are in for a rough night, I'll tell you all about it in a minute", unfortunately I alighted at St Paul's so did not get to hear all about itthough I gather it was to do with fires and fire alerts, no stopping at stations and rail replacement bus services. The evening was nice and I laughed more in 4 hours than I had for the previous 2 weeks put together (note to self : I need to go out more often, maybe even go to a gig - if anybody out there has any ideas feel free to suggest). I am not sure if I am still bared from posting pictures of the meet, after all Tom did not renew his threat of hunting me down and using my bones as etc, etc, etc. Still I'll play it safe. Return journey was nice too, the first Piccadilly train was a Heathrow train so no waiting or changing and I did not pick a bad carriage for people spotting (without eye contact obviously). There was the usual drunk staring at a can of Tennants and then dropping it so it filled the pink rucksack of the weird lady in an emerald woolly hat who was sat accross him. I don't know if she noticed or cared. There was something peculiar in the way she stared blankly at the window while her finger ran accross the lines of a library book, always the same page. There was a couple of American tourists and an Australian surfer who insisted on breaking the don't talk to people tube rule. They were commenting on his wife's dislike of London and the unfriendliness of people on the tube. They spotted a victim and having decided she looked American (she was and American studying English) decided she should join their conversation and they she had to face a non stop barrage of questions. After a while they decided they should ask me why I thought people did not speak to strangers on the tube. Thankfully I had reached my stop as I could not decide if I should: a) pretend I did not understand the question (there is always the danger they will attempt to carry own the conversation in broken French but it can be a risk worth taking). b) ignore the question c) tell them it was because if they had had a horrible day the last thing they wanted was for a tourist to tell them how much they disliked London while they are trying to work out if their dinner will still be warmby he time they get home and if they had a nice time they don't want a tourist ruining it by going on about how much they hate London and it is not at all like they expected and how people are so unfriendly. Excellent timing allowed me to use my joker "this is my stop, have a good evening". Londoners are not unfriendly... the proof, when I got to the bus station the driver was on a break, having a cigarette and a chat with another driver, when he spotted me, he came back and said "here love, you're on your own, you'd better go and sit inside" and let me in and closed he door before going back to his cigarette. That's a gentleman for you. |
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22.10.04 00:21 |
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