What a day!
I could barely move this morning due to a lasting hen-over (that's the equivalent of a hang over from a hen do). So I stayed in my PJ's, found 80's movies and veged on the couch. I was also doing this last night as for some reason I needed to immerse myself in all things 80's.
I knew it was never going to be the most productive day, writing wise, but then after watching Teen Witch this morning and Say Anything last night, I had an idea for a new book. A completely new idea, meaning there are now about 12 going round my head. I didn't think there was anymore room.(The book idea is nothing to do with any of the story lines in either film, just to clarify.)
So, I may not have been actively working but I was most definitely passively working. Luckily, I'm pretty good at that and whilst others would look at my morning and call it a failure or a waste of time, or being a lazy arse! I say, bugger you! I just came up with a new idea for a story and I wrote notes on it for an hour before I left to teach, on the bus journey and on the way back. So actually, it was a very successful day. Plus. I got to watch movies I hadn't seen before and indulge in a little 80's magic.
Whoop!
Speaking of teaching.... I just got back from music class in record time due to the revelation of the 46 bus. (Yes, I do realise I should have discovered this way sooner, but before self employment I had the ability to purchase a monthly tube pass and a severe hatred of buses.) So, I've been trialing different routes to work over the past few weeks but think I've finally cracked it. In terms of closeness to home and work it is fantastic and it's much quicker than the other bus routes around. But it is good to have several contingency plans and different options.
I may hate buses but they are more flexible than tubes and trains. At the end of the day, if a tube line is down or a train broken, you don't go anywhere. With buses you have to battle with traffic and pray that you catch it at a quiet-ish time, but other than that there is always an alternative route. And it's half price.
I still hate buses but am beginning to realise their pros as well as their cons. I left work at 4.15 and was home at 4.50. Yes! Put my music equipment away and computer on, ready to blog at 5. Now that's what I'm talking about.
I actually had a parent sit in on my music class today. PRESSURE! The child was new and only settling in so she was there and joined in the class. Not fun but at least I know I can do it and I didn't seem to scare away her or the child too much, as they did say, "See you next week." Ha! Thankfully there will no parental observers next week and hopefully all my kids will be in. It's really irritating when 3 out of 10 children are off. I thought it was just adults that didn't want to go to work on a Monday. Now I have my kids pulling a sickie.
It's also slightly irritating that the manager is not chasing up the payments and there are twins that owe money. They've already had two lessons, but it's management's job to chase this up and it's two kids so quite a bit of money and the only income I have right now. I mean, come on. 'Throw me a freakin' bone here.'
Oh. That reminds me, I really need to re-watch Austin Powers 1 and 2. I love a good Austin Powers quote.
There was also a new teacher, supposedly to replace me - a month after I left - which was weird. But it was always going to be. Seeing the person who is going to be looking after what you still consider to be your kids, is strange at best but I know she'll never replace me in their hearts. (Dramatic!)
Isn't it weird how I no longer work there but I still have so much to rant about. Anyway, I am leaving this topic now as it only tends to anger me.
So. Stomach farts. How annoying are they? If you're wondering what the flip I'm talking about then it's basically when you stomach makes noises that aren't a rumble. You know you're not hungry but your stomach is just making all sorts of noises that could easily be construed as a fart noise. It is especially embarrassing in a social context, or when in a lift, but especially when with total strangers. Your friends you can probably open up to and make a joke about it, or laugh it off. They love you anyway, so probably wouldn't mind if it was a fart. But strangers will judge. On the other hand, it's London so you'll probably never see that person again.
You know who your real friends are, if they'll forgive you a fart or two. And yes, women do fart no matter how hard they try to deny it, or society tells us we shouldn't. It's a natural process. Get over it. We would explode otherwise.
And now to standard housing. We are basically being priced out of our area and have little to no hope of ever being able to afford somewhere bigger and close by. (I do not want to leave Kentish Town. I love it and I want all these hideously rich people that keep buying here and all these posh restaurants and stuff to just shove off. Kentish Town isn't posh and that's one of the many reasons I love it. We don't need fancy restaurants or posh French schools. We need affordable housing for the people that actually want to live here.)
But what annoys me the most is that all the apartments that are being built are classed as "Luxury". Hmmm.
Now that's fine, but it also implies that there are other options. Yet, have you ever seen a sign saying: Standard, affordable accommodation? NO!!!! It doesn't exist. You can have luxury or luxury and to be fair there's probably nothing luxurious about it. It's just one of those lovely buzz words they like to use to make people think they're getting something more than they actually are.
All these "luxury" flats are probably not too dissimilar to ours, yet they cost about 3 times as much and are on the same road. It's ridiculous. They need to start up a 'No Frills' housing association, that builds nice properties that are affordable to more than the ridiculously rich, which is significantly few. I mean, who cares if you get the bog standard fixtures and fittings? When you move into a place, there is always room for improvement, but getting luxury taps and showers and appliances is probably bumping up the house price by several thousands of pounds, even though they don't even cost that much. Urgh! It's really annoying.
On a slight tangent, who remembers the 'No Frills' brand? My Gran used to get 'No Frills' crisps. They were in a white bag and the writing was black. And they were the crisp equivalent of shit pop, 'rola cola', cheap imitation stuff. Probably about 10p for 20 bags, or something ridiculous. I had an Auntie that had some issue with Easter eggs and would always, instead, buy me and my brother a massive bag of 'No Frills' sweets. So like, 'No Frills' dolly mixtures or 'No Frills' jelly drops. I don't remember them being particularly tasty but then they were probably 20p for 500g, so who cares!
I'm feeling peckish, but it's way too early to eat (except if you're up North in which case you've probably had, or are having your tea around now. I used to do the same. My issue is, if I eat now and then end up staying up late watching 80's movies, which will inevitably happen, I'll be hungry again by 10.30/11.) so if you hear a noise it's just a tummy rumble, not a stomach fart. Just to put that out there.
Now finally I would like to address some very distressing happenings from the hen do. It was held in Bath, a beautiful city and I only have good things to say about it, which I will inevitably blog about later and separately, but this needs to be addressed now! Why do boys have to touch what is not theirs?
Now, yes it was a hen do and yes we were dressed up a little (bunny ears, tail, bow tie) nothing crazy. But does that give people the right to fondle you at the bar, or insult you, or pinch your ears, or refuse to leave when repeatedly asked? Does it? No! It most certainly does not!
I mean, going out as a group of women you know you are inevitably going to be approached by a myriad of unsavoury characters and gain way too much unwanted attention, but this was ridiculous. I was told that my ears were terrifying and because I was northern he thought I was going to punch him. Keep saying things like that and I will, you dick! I was also groped at the bar by some tiny boy who decided that because he told me I had nice eyes that then gave him permission to stroke my arm and grab my bum. (A is going to flip when he reads this.) I mean. Really?
Then there were the gross guys that wanted to dance in our circle but then when asked to leave just started touching other bunnies. Not cool! But our hen got the bouncer and got a couple chucked out! Feisty bunny.
I swear I used to be feistier when I was younger. I remember a night out in Liverpool and some guy grabbing my bum. I turned around and screamed at him. "Get your hands off my fuckin' arse!" Needless to say, he didn't do it again. Now I'm actually more intimidated by it.
I need to retain some of that anger in the future, or just hope that men can rectify this hideousness. It might work on drunk teenagers or stupid students, but it certainly doesn't work on bunny rabbits. So, naughty, horrible boys, if you could keep your hands to yourself that would be lovely and realise that when we are out with the girls we are out to dance and have a laugh. We are not there to satisfy your twitchy groping hands or listen to whatever bullshit you're spinning. Honestly, I've never had this much problem on King Street in Wigan. And London is a breeze, because everyone's so cut off from everyone else, that there tends to be little to no interaction with others.
And girls, keep your faces stern, speak up if boys are being dickish and protect the right to go out and party without unnecessary fondalage.
It doesn't help that I tend to be a magnet for weirdos. I always have been. But anyhoo, I'm in a desperate need to pee and it's almost a reasonable time to eat. Oh how I count the moments. So have a great week. I'm sure the Sarky Traveller will be popping up at some point. She tends to. And stay warm and safe and dry and fed, if at all possible.
Ciao for now.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.