Midnight and Beyond

Insomnia, it's a strange thing. It can be the worst thing in the world, I (or you) can end up sat awake all hours watching the hands click round the clock as time slowly treks it's way forward.

But you can also see it in a good light. It's a pretty regular thing for me that if I don't have work the next day then I can quite realistically still be sat awake at five in the morning on the internet, watching tv or having a drink. And as much as this isn't most people's ideal, to me it's perfect. There is something just perfect about that time of the morning, of going outside and there's total silence and everywhere is dark and people are asleep. It's peaceful, and it's relaxing and it's utterly beautiful. And the best bit about it? Is that it ends, every day, without fail. But also without fail is begins again the next night. If you need that peace or solitude you can find it, every night.

This may not be my usual acerbic sarcasm, but one thing about this world I've found over the years is when you find something that special, it's worth sharing.

Silence and Hazy Days

I personally am a big fan of "me time". I'm perfectly happy with just myself for company and I tend to grab the opportunity when it arises, it being a rare commodity these days. I spend it reading, or having a quiet drink pondering my own internal monologue and I really find it quite cathartic.

Today for example, peace reigns. Everyone is off elsewhere with their own errands or entertainment, so the garden has fallen into my solitary domain. 

This is part of the reason I'm glad we don't live in London itself but rather skirt the boundaries happy to bask in it's nearby glow of bustle and life. Whilst we can drift the day away if we want to with just a little background noise occasionally bringing us back from our reverie.

There is part of me though that would dearly love to spend the day sat in the sun in one of the little parks in London with my nearest and dearest enjoying a drink and a picnic, though the hangover following the last of these types of days, although the day was totally worth it, does remind me that maybe having this option constantly available to me would not be hugely conducive to my continued existence with a functional liver...

And so I content myself with the beautiful day I have ahead of me basking in the sunshine and enjoying the quiet. Nothing ever lasts though of course, the boys will return and the silence will disperse, but I can always find it again. I hear the North Pole is nice this time of year...

Childhood Memory, Or Rather No Memory

I have one older brother, he's four years older than me and he's a musician. He's also the best man I have ever known, and I would say we are very close. We don't talk every day, sometimes not for months, but we don't need to because we know the other would be there in a heartbeat if we needed them. But, we've not always been so close...

When we were kids we fought like crazy, and not just the usual bickering but proper fighting! I think we were at our worst when I was about eight or nine, and he would've then been twelve or thirteen. But even with the fighting I had a major case of hero worship when it came to him and I'd follow him everywhere... So basically I'm not surprised we fought so much, because having your baby sister trying to tag along all the time must have been horrendous!

I remember him once locking me on the balcony that joined our bedrooms. It was cold, I wasn't wearing enough clothes and my futile protestations that the only reason I wanted to come inside was to get my guitar (yep I really thought he'd fall for that) somehow fell on deaf ears. No idea how I managed to get back inside but my guess would be our mum caught us and he was forced somewhat grumpily to open the door!

Anyway, my brother came to stay with us over the Christmas holidays and we started talking about the past and a lot of these memories of our childhood came up, it was really nice actually and I think one hell of a learning experience for my husband!
I was laughing away reminiscing until I heard this -

"What about the time I threw a dart into your knee?! ha ha ha!"

Um sorry, what? Rewind! What the hell?! I have no memory of this at all, nothing whatsoever! Apparently I was doing the usual annoying little sister routine and had followed him and one of his friends into his bedroom where they decided to play with the dartboard. As I was undoubtedly being annoying my brother proceeded to sling a dart in my general direction, I think to scare me into shoving off and leaving him in peace so not to actually hurt me. Anyway this dart headed straight for my knee and sunk in, and sat there... His first reaction? Well the same as any kid's would be I think, FFS DON'T TELL MUM!!!! Granted I think he just didn't want to lose his dartboard!

Don't think I cried, definitely didn't tell my mum cos his dartboard remained where it was but I just find it incredibly bizarre that I don't remember it at all, not even a flicker of recognition. But I think we may have solved the riddle of why I'm so scared of needles...

Oh crap...

One evening last week, Friday I believe, I had stopped on my way home from work for a drink with my husband and a friend. We had all left work on time, were all quite tired after a long week and a glass of wine (or a pint in their cases) sounded like a brilliant idea.

As the weather is starting to pick up properly we were incredibly happy to manage to find a table outside and settled ourselves to sup our drinks and talk crap and let the work hassles of the week gently drift off our shoulders. When I said talk crap through it turned out to be a little more realistic than I thought, as I turned round and was confronted by this car parked up by the pub...

Have to admit, I had no idea what to say when I saw this. I figure the company directors are either equipt with impressive senses of humour, don't know about it or are just generally a bit dumb.... And I feel soooo sorry for the poor guy or girl who's driving round in this, I mean seriously they must feel like a total idiot! I really hope their boss pays them very well for this particular bit of mobile advertising!

Sunshine and Sanity, Or Lack Of...

Last weekend I ended up going for a walk on my own down to the river, which is only a few minutes from my place. It was a beautiful sunny day and I fancied a bit of peace and quiet so I settled myself down on the banks of the Thames with an iBook on my phone cued up and nothing else to concern myself with.

Whilst I sat there I became aware of a boat mooring up a short distance from me, but I didn’t give it a whole lot of attention. A man got out, tied it up and settled himself back into his seat and opened a can of lager. All good, don’t blame him, in fact if I owned a boat I’d imagine I would probably spend a fairly large amount of the summer days sat out on the river enjoying a beverage or six with my nearest and dearest!

So I left him to his lager, and I went back to my book. Until I heard him start talking.

I couldn’t really make out what on earth he was talking about, so I figured he was just talking to someone in the cabin of the boat and tried to block it out. Eventually it got louder and I glanced over in time to hear him have a go at someone for not catching his stuff, which was lying on the grass bank, next to the boat, with no one in sight...

He then proceeded to have a good half hour talk with someone who was either invisible, imaginary or a product of more alcohol than I thought he’d have. It was a pretty surreal thing to watch, and I couldn’t help but laugh after a while.

Finally he seemed to finish up his lager, and started to put the roof up on the boat and then disembarked holding the door open for “no one” whilst telling them to look after the boat while he was gone. Uh huh, okay mate seriously think you’ve overdone the Stella this time... But hey maybe his boat is haunted and he was talking to a ghost, either way I made a move not long after giggling to myself. But if you see this boat, be careful, there could be an invisible someone stood just over your shoulder, you never know...

Dodgem Update

I'm sure some of you can remember my little rant about playing train station dodgems with those stupid little drag along suitcases, they are the bane of my commuting life and instil feelings of utter hatred in me at a mere glance of them.

Apparently the damn things have worked out that I truly detest them as lately it does kind of feel like they've been mocking me...

Not only have they been cropping up more frequently but also in increasingly difficult to dodge places. For example as I came down the stairs from the platform to the underground this morning at Waterloo someone walking across the bottom of the staircase decided to pause leaving their damned suitcase bang in the middle of them which I almost took a flying leap over. Thanks for that...

Then there was the lovely man on the overground with one of them who refused to put it up on the shelf during the journey but instead wedged it in front of him where it was nicely digging into my shins. Or at least it was until I gently suggested he move it in a voice that promised untold quantities of pain when I found somewhere else to lodge it if it wasn't moved soon...

But I think my "favourite" thing about them lately has to be the epitome of mockery. I tripped over another of them at Paddington the other day and as I pitched forward desperately trying to locate the wall with my hand before I located the floor with my face I caught a glipse of the logo and brand name. Tripp.... Are you having a bloody laugh?!

All Creatures Small and Evil... (Part Two)

As we’ve already covered, I am an animal person and most animals love me; which is why for the last almost ten years I haven’t been without some sort of furry animal around my home. I love rodents, so over the last ten years I’ve had three rabbits, five guinea pigs and three hamsters. At the moment my husband and I just have the two guinea pigs, we very recently lost his hamster (Love you Jinx), but they are perfect for us.

As we’ve handled them a great deal from the moment we bought them both it means they’re quite comfortable with being held, but in keeping with my title, they do have their evil moments...

For starters they have now learnt the sound of the fridge door. Now inherently that doesn’t sound like a bad thing, it’s only the fridge after all, but it means that whenever we open it, regardless of what time day or night, it’s like setting off a fire alarm in the living room. Our girls have definitely got some lungs on them and they know how to make sure they have your attention. It probably does mean they get a little spoilt, but it also means they’re quiet...

But the big “evil” when it comes to the girls is one of them, let’s call her Piggle S, has developed a rather unfortunate habit. She will be picked up with very little fuss, will curl up on my husband and go to sleep, or with me she crawls up onto my shoulder and perches there quite happily watching television with us, or that’s how it seems. Until she decides she’s had enough. To tell us she wants to go home she could start fidgeting, or maybe squeaking a little, but not this one. She pees on us. Every flipping time! You can practically see her smirk before she does it, her evil little brain whirring away and hatching her plots to be returned to the safety of the hay stuffed cage which she shares with Piggle T. And it works, unsurprisingly, every single time so why stop?

So when it comes to animals I think I’ve finally cracked it, the smaller they come the more evil they are...!

All Creatures Small and Evil... (Part One)

I am most definitely an animal person, I love having pets and I love other people’s animals, well most of them anyway.

I have recently found the one animal on this planet that dislikes me, let’s refer to her as Kitty X. I recently went to stay with a couple of friends of mine in Scotland and they currently have two guinea pigs and two cats. The guinea pigs are gorgeous fat little furry men, and the two kitties are the furry women of the house. Within minutes of walking in the front door Kitty X had recognised someone new had crossed into her domain and came stalking into the hallway to check me out.

As I do with every animal I didn’t try to pet her, I just knelt down and held my hand out for her to have a sniff. Kitty X pondered me for a moment, had a sniff and stalked off seemingly quite happy. Then we made the huge mistake of leaving the house for the afternoon because upon our arrival back Kitty X took one look at me before her ears went back and she stood hissing at me! Now suffice to say I was a little surprised at this reaction, after all she’d not seemed to object to my presence initially... Maybe she thought I was some stray that mum had brought home and one who would be being put back out the door within moments; a theory that could well have been backed up by our swift departure after my first appearance!

Still I knew I could crack her, and she would come to adore me as every other animal does... Not so much... For the next two days Kitty X hissed at me at every opportunity, she became decidedly addicted to finding items of my clothing left out to cover in cat hair and she stalked me up and down the stairs every time I moved. My every motion was eyeballed with distinct disdain and even the overture of friendship involving chicken was ignored. I did manage to stroke Kitty X, once, whilst she was lying on her dad who she just scarily adores. I think this time I may have to admit defeat, Kitty X this round is yours but we shall meet again, oh yes we shall...!

That’s Not A Headrest

My morning train takes roughly half an hour to get to Waterloo in the morning, and I am lucky enough that I am far enough down the line from London that it’s pretty much a guarantee in the morning that I will get a seat on the train. Now my preference is always to be tucked up by the window, that way you don’t have people pushing past you and I can just lean my head on the window, switch on my iPod or read my book and let the world go by.

Of course we don’t always get what we want so quite often I end up sat on the “aisle” seat of the train, exposed to the elements and more often than not only being able to sit on half of the seat thanks to the broad shouldered bloke sat next to me who thinks he has right of way and won’t budge an inch... See, so far I don’t really have an issue. The train trundles along, I read or watch something and everything is peaceful, until we get to Surbiton...

Now, the Waterloo trains from Surbiton are one of two types. Either they stop at pretty much every single stop between the two, and take a good twenty five minutes OR there’s the one that I take which stops nowhere between the two. It’s just a nice straight run of fifteen minutes and no stress. But this does mean that it is the more popular of the two trains and gets pretty packed most mornings. So everyone streams on board filling what small amount of seats might still be left, then the aisles and the open sections by the doors. What the lovely commuters appear to see when they get on though is a field of tables rather than seats with passengers.

I’ve had people resting their bags on me, leaning on me, practically sitting on me in the past. What on earth is going through their heads I have no idea! Personally if I end up standing I take every precaution to ensure I’m not touching the other passengers, because if I don’t like it when I’m sitting then they’re hardly going to be delighted if I start using their heads as a leaning post!

There was this guy once, who I see quite regularly, who was resting his bag on my shoulder. So I very politely tapped his arm and asked if he could please move it. He smirked, pointed at his earphones and said he couldn’t hear me. So I pushed the bag off me at which point he promptly put it back. Ended up standing up really fast when we arrived at Waterloo a minute or two later which obviously pitched his bag up as well, over balanced him and he landed on his arse in the middle of the train and his headphones fell out. Did remember to say “can you hear me now?” as I stepped over him and got off the train.

Simply put, we’re all crammed in these tiny little boxes running down the tracks, maybe a little consideration would improve everyone else’s day as much as people showing it to you might improve your own? And if they can’t be bothered, landing them on their arse seems to do the trick...!

It’s Ladies Night?

Last night I ended up joining in with a game of poker that’s started being a regular fixture at the pub my husband and I often go to. And something struck me as being very unusual about this particular game. No one looked surprised when I sat down and no one asked me if I knew how to play. It’s become that common place for people to question a woman’s ability to play cards that I actually noticed it not being asked last night... It’s a really bizarre feeling. And the more I thought about it the more it became apparent that it happens so often in various situations that are deemed “unusual” for a woman to supposedly be in.

When I bought my last car I went to a dealership to take a look at the particular model I had in mind, and the salesman immediately addressed the man who was with me as he assumed the car was for him. It was pointed out by both of us that the car was actually a purchase for me but he continued to address all questions and answers to the man present. In the end we walked out. I finally bought the car from a dealership that didn’t employ sexist idiots and instead choose to have staff that didn’t alienate half their clientele!

When I had my car serviced with a different garage I asked them to retain the brake drums as they had warped very quickly and I thought this was a fault of the parts rather than just wear and tear. They called me to let me know they were finished and I could come and collect, I reminded them about keeping the parts, all fine no problem. I arrived at the garage 10 minutes later to be told that they didn’t know anything about a request for retaining the parts (this was the same guy who called me) and that in the fifteen minutes since removing them from my car they had apparently been binned and collected so they couldn’t get them back for me. To be fair I raised all holy hell in the salesroom and ended up with £100 knocked off my bill. Again it was because a woman couldn’t possibly in their eyes know what they were talking about when it comes to a vehicle.

I used to be in the habit each weekend of walking into my town and buying something for breakfast and a motorbike magazine, my version of coffee and the papers in bed. Every single weekend without fail the guy in the newsagents would tell me that my “boyfriend should buy his own magazines” or words to that effect. Didn’t matter how many times I told him that it was actually for me, I still got it.

Simple version people, I personally am not a girly girl. I am a petrolhead, I like tattoos and I love playing cards. This isn’t something you could tell by looking at me really, you’d have to know me. So to any men reading this, please stop making assumptions that a female can’t possibly know or like whatever it is you’re doing. It kinda makes you look a bit dumb, and it’s patronising. Now run along and do some DIY ok...?