Posts Tagged ‘General Ramblings’

An open letter to my neighbour.

June 29, 2009

Dear Neighbour,

I completely understand that, as a responsible parent, you do not wish your offspring to be  wobbling, wheezing, truly foul specimins of the country’s child obesity problem. What I don’t get is why you persist on locking them in the 6×4 concreted area that masquerades as your garden, to stand facing the closed back door and scream like banshees for what feels like hours on end, when they clearly don’t want to be there.

They’re driving me mad.

Please desist, or I will be forced to erect a banner outside your property stating that Father Christmas doesn’t exist. At least then the little shitbags will actually have a reason to be upset.

Yours Sincerely

J

So, where are you from?

June 28, 2009

Asked Nell, the old lady in the diagonally opposite hosipital bed.

I answered; one word, name of town.

‘I meant originally’ she said, barely hiding her disdain.

‘Kent’ I replied, and tried to return to my crossword.

‘No, BEFORE that’ barked a now visibly irritated Nell.

‘Inside my Mum?’ I enquired, putting down my crossword, knowing this wasn’t going to be then end of it.

Nell sighed, annoyed at having to start her line of questioning again.

‘So’ She said, slowing her speech, just to make sure I understood the question. ‘Where.. is.. your.. Mum.. from?’

‘Ilkley.’  I replied. ‘And my Dad is Welsh.’  pre-empting question 5 (out of a possible 20, perhaps?)

Nell looked pleased. ‘Told you she was foreign’ She informed Margaret.

Margeret wasn’t listening. She was trying to remember whether it was 1988 or 1989 (It was neither).

Someone reminded me I’m almost 30 today.

May 27, 2009

At some point 29 years has past me by and I haven’t paid attention. All of a sudden all of my friends have bought houses, are married/nearly married, having *stifles vomit* babies, and have careers.

I’ve ended up in suburbia in a job that is essentially just one big argument with various pensioners. When I’m not trying to send the country’s elderly to an early grave I occupy my time by playing internet scrabble……….

Still, plenty of time to do something…give it another 30 years, I might even think about growing up.

Washing machine roulette, and other ways to spend a Saturday

October 11, 2008

I’ve had a marvellous week, in the sense that I’m still living, seeing as today could have had up to four alternate endings, two involving an obituary.

The beginning of my brush with death was our annual appliance inspection, which for the uninitiated is where some brummie turns up on the doorstep of your rented property, berates you for working on a call centre and not being a world famous novelist (he says being too scared to let anyone read my work is holding me back – no shit, I hadn’t worked that out), pokes at various gas and electric powered items and condemns your washing machine.

So I weighed up my options:

1. Accept that my washer has morphed into a potential 240volt weilding maniac and go to the launderette.

2. Ignore the advice of the man with the red ‘do not use’ stickers, and continue to use the psychopathic zanussi.

Having thought long and hard about it, the chance of death by washing machine had to be statistically lower than being murdered down the local launderette and opted for a game of washing machine roulette, safe in the knowledge that should I get fried my demise would be much quicker than during a failed mugging in Cradley’s finest washeteria.

2 loads later, I’m still here. Me 2, Zanussi 0.