Red Tulip appear to have lil Robin Hood bunnies for sale this year. So wanted to punch its stupid smiling face in. What can I say, cute as Jonas is, his Robin is such a stuck up, selfish, self absorbed suilky little prat and deserves to have some sense thumped into him.
Just possibly. Can't help it, there was much button pushing in the last episode, as well as actual Much button pushing as always. Nasty, nasty boy.
Thankyou for the Top Gear and Life on Mars. Very much appreciated by all of us stranded on this bastard isle. Especially Top Gear as there has been much wailing and gnashing this week, even in the papers, about our being so far behind.
Minor anthropological study: British funeral flowers are way, way tackier than local ones. I discovered this unfortunate cultural difference while browsing and finally choosing something I thought was simple, tasteful and understated. Only when I tried to order it I was told I couldn't have that one for the UK, but perhaps I'd like these monstrosities instead. No, I really, really wouldn't, but as I had no choice in the matter I tried to pick the one least likely to give offence and distress to already grieving relatives, but I can't see much chance of that. Chavtastic!
Sorry, just had to get that off my chest, as if bad news from abroad isn't enough to make one grumpy. Cue Al's speech about telegrams and bad news, though mine came via Skype. Whatever happened to black bordered envelopes, I lament.
Further to my woes, the colleague is back who irritates me like red food dye and it is serving as sufficient irritation to prevent any and all happy fic thoughts, which is a pity as they give me nowt but the shit jobs and fic thoughts are what I need to survive (since they took my radio away).
Update: my lords and masters might think I'm a complete pillock and treat me as such, but I've made myself useful to a few folk outside these walls. Yesterday I was ambushed by a pack of Japanese girls and, desperately weilding my half doz words of Japanese, plus some rather basic profiling, I finally sussed they wanted to find "good shops" and so a few crosses drawn on a map later I got my bows (hey, not so low, I ain't that old) and off they scampered. That should surely qualify me by now for my Hiro badge of services to lost Japanese tourists (I've seriously gotta memorise "left", "right" and "straight ahead", tho').
I also had an email letting me know the flowers arrived and were much appreciated. Phew! It wasn't just the 'will they get there' worry, but my deeper concern that I was doing the right thing because the bulk of my family are off shore, so not only am I unfamiliar with the micro-cultures of various family units, not to mention the foreign culture of the country, but as I don't do any family functions I just don't know the correct form or code of behaviour, unless I look it up in a book. So I get nervous.
It's made worse for me too because I'm completely clueless and my father thought it'd be fun to raise me as a godless communist with a porn habit and a compulsion for shit stirring, which of course means I'm guaranteed to drop at least three clangers at the dinner table, even just trying to make polite conversation. Or buying the Guardian. Or even accidentally sticking stamps upside down (it means I'm a Jacobite, apparently, and since I have ancestors fallen at Culloden, I guess so).
So yes, basically any family interaction has this whole Margaret Mead vibe going, and having David Attenborough whispering off to the side re primate behaviour would not be inappropriate.
Re the porn thing, my dad had this enormous porn collection, from 70s mags to shelves of gentleman's erotica, you know, posh Victorian stuff, pillow books and the like. And if that wasn't enough, we used to have a big drive in at the top of the hill (all townhouses now, alas) that used to show mostly Arnie films during the 80s but in the 70s they used to show soft porn of a late Saturday night and on really too hot to sleep summer nights we'd be sitting on the back steps with cold lemonade anyway, but there would be these huge boobs looming and bobbing over the back fence. You just can't beat formative experiences like that, imho.
Shouldn't have worn a t-shirt today. I usually don't, because I'm not supposed to, but I just couldn't go the business shirt today. But I really should, because people treat me far worse in the t-shirt, and I don't need that today. Like last week, the cops just waved me past all the blockades because I was wearing my office outfit, but today three transport police decided to press me in the corner and give me the heavy treatment even though I had a perfectly valid ticket, just because I was wearing a black t-shirt. Sigh.
Ack. Meetings, meetings and more meetings, but at least I got a free snag at the union bbq.
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