Please note - the letter Z has broken on this very expensive keyboard, and must be copy/pasted in from a glyph palette on a graphics package. manually, hence the appearance.
I was in Brighton yesterday. I had to work in the office in Hastings until 1pm, then run for the train. It was the hottest day of the year and I was wearing the wrong clothes. half way there I had a call to say my meeting had been put back. I don't get paid for stuff like this, so it cost me half a day's pay - however, I did secure a lot more work - so it even's out.
I didn't take my bike - I wasn't going to risk getting arrested again - however - there were plenty of other bikes on the train, all unmolested.
There was a girl on the train with her parents - she was about 30. She'd done a photography course once and thought she was David Bailey - a little knowledge etc. Apparently, she does everything 'in camera' - but the only time she's ever been shortlisted for a priZe - she had used photoshop. She was angry that one competition recently had received 11 entries from her - and won nothing 'how can that happen'? she said.
There were 4 punky teen girls with a basket of kittens at the next table ( I really don't make this up ) - apparently they had been rescued from a girl who was planning to feed them to a snake. They were very cute - and were passed around the carriage. Caused some distress to a very small girl ( with two dads - Canadians, very Metropolitain ) who wanted to take one home.
There were 4 old women from Hastings who were on their way to Eastbourne for their annual holiday - it's 25 miles. One went to the toilet and said that there was no water and it was 'DISGUSTING!!!!' - she had already soaped up her hands and had to wipe them on her skirt.
The bloke behind me spoke quite loud, his wife very quietly - it made for a strange conversation
"I said I wanted a Mr Whippy - solid - not full of bloody air"
"Anything with masala - avoid like the plague - not safe for the English stomach lining, would kill me in a hearbeat"
"My oseophagus couldn't cope - that's why I have to have the best olive oil"
- the next bit was very strange until I realised he must be reading from a menu card
"ChorZio and Spinach - where's the sense in that?
"minced beef pattie - what's that when it's at home"
"scallops - them's nice, I could do a scallop right now"
Brighton was very hot and full of men who groom too much and think it makes up for all their other inadequecies. I wandered about a bit but it was bad for my self esteem - so went to my meeting and had a cup of tea - then came back to the station - pausing only to have a row with a queue jumper in M&S ( the sandwiches are far too expensive )
On the train home - an elderly woman get on behind me and started a conversation with another woman that lasted the whole journey back - it was all about her, I know know EVERYTHING about this woman - she cycled around Paris on a Brompton once, loves Chopin, hates Margate ( The new Turner Gallery has inadequate skirting boards, apparently ) and once - in her 60's looked up her old swedish au-pair in Malmo - turning up on the doorstep - the poor woman was 79 and probably didn't have the strength to barricade the doors. She also informed everyone that they should buy property in the former soviet sector of East Berlin - it's the last place left to buy decent and cheap - but the bubble is about to burst.
When we got back to Hastings - I was so drained - I caught a cab, bought a piZZa, and went to bed.
The papers are full of righteous indignation over the jailing of 'Pussy Riot" ( listening to John Humphries choke over the word 'Pussy' every morning really makes my day) The female newsreaders say the word very fast, obviously uncomfortable - the male newsreaders labour over the word and add as much emphasis as Sean Connery, I hope it does not lose too much in translation - would 'Cunt Chaos' have caused as much fuss?. It's all very 'over there' - let's not forget that we live in a country where an idiot, uneducated teenager can type the words 'lets have a riot' ( whilst wearing his pyjamas) and then go back to bed - only to be arrested and sentenced to 4 years in Prison ( he's still there folks, costing us real money to incarcerate.)
I listened to Front Row last night - there were two guest reviewers - both journalists, both young women, both posh, both do this for a living, both shit - neither had any idea what they were talking about or understood what they had been asked to review - it was aural posh totty. One said ( of a TV show ) "yah, amZaing, like - if you watch all 3 episodes you'll really want to know what happens at the end"
Jesus wept.
I accidently found a photograph of myself yesterday with a full head of hair. It ruined my day.
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