These Boots Really Were Made For Walking

Half eight on a Thursday morning, it's primo commuter time and the underground is packed as ever. I've already had warning that there's overground issues which thankfully never materialised and now even the tube seems to be running without issue. It's a regular, busy but relatively stress free morning of travel. I've had the idiot on the train who seems to think he needs a seat and a half and I'll make do with what's left but that was easily remedied by the application of stubbornness and fidgeting... Mrs P 1 : Train Numpties 0!

Anyway, the Bakerloo line is jumping as ever, but I find a handy spot near where "my" carriage pulls in and relax into the music pulsing relaxingly down my headphones. The tube train pulls in, the carriage is quiet with plenty of seats for the baying hoards waiting to board. The tube slows, then stops and the doors slide smoothly open triggering the slow movement forward of the one guy in front of me. Swiftly followed by the decision by him to stop dead despite the moving traffic behind him which pushes me into him.

Ah but surely there's some sterling reason for his cessation of movement. There must be someone disembarking unexpectedly and he's stopped to ensure their ease of departure like a gentleman? No? Well maybe someone crossed in front of him pushing to get to the seats and it's forced his absence of movement? No again? Okay, there must be something... He just decided that was where he wanted to stand ignoring the fact that there's a large amount of people behind him and he's blocked the passage? Yes? Really?! 

Not only does this majestic absence of common sense fill me with disillusionment of the small fraction of intelligence I assumptively gift my fellow commuters with but he goes so far as to turn round and have a go at me for knocking into him! Funnily enough that's what happens when you stall natural flow patterns, they crash into each other!!!

He first starts berating me for knocking into him, really not my choice, not like he was good looking or anything but who am I to hold back thirty odd stressy commuters? Then I get informed I should have gone around him, which seeing as people were boarding wherever there was a gap was pretty unlikely. Finally I get past him and he spends the next ten minutes or so glowering at me futilely as I studiously ignore the odious little twit. So next time I think I need to wear not only boots that are made for walking, but ones that are perfectly equipt for imbedding into morons backsides too! Plan!

Is This A Sign?!

Whenever you enter a restaurant, bar, pub, office building or any other building outside a private residence you can easily identify the toilets by the signs on the door. They can range from a word or letter to a pictorial notification. And sometimes these signs can be a little on the strange side...

This is the simple design from the ladies toilet doors from my office.

Nice and simple. Not misleading, not confusing, not remotely open to interpretation right?

Here's the one, from the same office, for those toilets that are for use by both male and female. These are the ones that have a shower in them.

Now maybe it's just me, but how dodgy does that look exactly? Best I can make out is that particular cubicle is only for the use of couples. To be fair that would make it even more concerning, our toilets aren't exactly roomy...

Whole new meaning to the phrase "tight squeeze" then I guess...?!

A "Buzz" In The Night

This is in no way as good as it sounds... It is however, now it's a past event, bloody funny, well the imagery of it makes me laugh!

I work in a pub once or twice a week, and when I work a Friday or Saturday night I don't tend to get home before around two in the morning, later if we stop for pizza afterwards. On the particular Saturday night in question I got home around half two with every intention of doing my usual "stay up until 5am drinking wine, watching movies and have a long lie in the next morning". Well for whatever reason, it had been a long shift, around half three I decided I had had enough of yawning and for once headed to bed before my husband who elected to stay up to read to the end of the chapter in the book he's reading.

So I head into our room and get myself settled in to bed as normal, but figured as he wasn't going to be long I'd read a book on my iPhone and wait for him. Five or ten minutes pass peacefully and I suddenly hear this buzzing sound to my left, right by the bedside lamp. I turn my head very slowly and see this wasp hovering over my bedside table. Now, simply put, I hate wasps!!! I remember when I was about thirteen or so and at boarding school, there was a wasp nest outside my dorm window and they crawled in and under my duvet cover and I got stung about twelve times in one night and ended up sleeping on a chair...

So suffice to say the teeny, tiny, buzzy insect scared the ever living hell out of me prompting me to sit bolt upright before tearing off the covers and sprinting to the door. The only thing missing was the screaming and waving hands over my head... Think this sort of thing...




Having reached the door I switched the main lights on to see exactly where the little flying piece of evil had gone and it proceeded to shove off up to the lights and buzz round them. At some point during my panicked flight from the other side of the room I had grabbed a dvd and was now brandishing it "very" ominously at the wasp. What the hell I thought I was going to do with that I have no idea because my bedside table is covered in perfume bottles and therefore not exactly "swat friendly" and now it was up by the ceiling there was no improvement as I now couldn't reach it.

Whilst standing there debating my options I suddenly saw another of them fly up to the lights. Oh great, now there are two death delivering winged devils in my room!

It was around this time that my husband decided to come to bed and upon walking into the hallway was accosted by the sound of his rather scared wife calling his name. He walked in to find out what was going on and I just pointed and muttered "wasp", because obviously speaking loudly would've gotten their attention... *eye roll*
While we watched through another flew in through the curtain, and then another! We both seemingly came to the same conclusion that we no longer wanted to inhabit the same space as them and shot out the bedroom door closing it behind us.

This led us to standing in the living room debating what on earth we were planning on doing, which then in turn led to the realisation that due to me having been in bed my clothing situation was somewhat less than ideal, which led to my husband handing me his coat, which comes to the waist... Thanks soooooo much hunny...!
I grabbed a throw off the sofa and wrapped that round me but I still think I would've been considerably happier in something more substantial, you know like a beekeepers suit or something like that! During my haphazard assembly of some vaguely useful clothing ideas (oh and it should be noted there was a ton of fresh laundry hanging in our hallway but my adrenalin soaked brain seemed to bypass this information) my husband had gone outside to see if he could see anything and come back to inform me that not only were all our bedroom windows wide open but also there was a lovely big flowering bush under them. Deep joy and rapture. He proceeded to push the windows closed with an umbrella which removed any danger of any further invasion but still left us with a decision to make about the ones already inside, which we decided to check on, and walked in to find there was now somewhere in the region of ten of them all flying around our lights.

So the options were simple.

1. Sleep in the bedroom regardless and hope we don't get stung - Oh hellzzzz no!
2. Spend the next however long trying to kill them all before going to bed - It was already around half five in the morning by this point and I had work at midday so that seemed a little time devouring
3. Sleep in the living room and leave the lights on in the bedroom so we know where they are - SOLD!

Plan decided upon, we still had a few more details to sort out. Namely we needed to switch off the bedside lamp, I needed my phone and I also needed a pair of jeans for work the next day. So Operation Wasp Dodge was born. *fanfare*

The idea was simple. We would both go into the bedroom with seperate objectives and that way we could halve the amount of trips into Sting Central would be required. I had managed to kill one on a previous scouting expedition but it was in the centre of the bed making it a little hard to get across without getting stung. Still we decided I would go for the light as I knew where the (hopefully) dead wasp was and my husband would get my phone. Then we would reconvene and choose new targets.

Opening the door I led the way into enemy territory and very slowly and quietly inched my way to and then across the bed to the lamp. Switching it off I then shuffled backwards to the door and scarpered, followed swiftly by the husband with my phone.

As the only other absolute necessity was my jeans I said I would go back in for them, and ventured back inside once more. I would love to have been able to see this from above, me crawling carefully across the floor like one of those soldier toys only to grab a pair of jeans and do the crawl/scramble/backup version of a panicked flee from the room.

As it turns out leaving the light on was a good call as they all fried themselves overnight pretty much and we've since found the nest and had it taken care of, but I love that we can turn a wasp invasion into all out war with something a minute fraction of our size...

London Predicts A Riot

We're three days (or nights rather) into the riots and looting in London and I for one am truly disgusted by the behaviour of these "tax paying citizens" who all look suspiciously young to be "getting back our taxes" as stated by one of them in Clapham last night whilst stealing a flatscreen tv...

All through this the police have been a silent and unseen presence, or so the media would have people believe. As fires swept through the capital a terrified cry rose above the noise of sirens and alarms pleading for police assistance and firefighters. And they answered the call, every single one of them, and we should be damn proud of them, I know I am.

Yes there were areas where people felt unprotected but they cannot be everywhere, it's simply impossible, they were massively outnumbered in many areas and quite cynically and simply why would the media report on areas of London where the rioters have been quelled? I doubt it would make as "good" viewing compared to the fear and suffering that could be broadcast from other areas.
And if the police had adopted a more aggressive stance then all we'd be hearing today is about their terrible heavy headed approach and police brutality! They can't win and yet they still stand up to protect us. Maybe some support and gratitude should be in order?

Then there is the social networks which seemed to cover the two extreme opinions from unquestioning support of the looters to utter horror at the degradation of our society. Warmed the heart though to read page after page condemnation for the actions of the reprobates who quite clearly thought everyone would be behind them. Well technically I'd like to be, but I'm not going to jail for the use of garrotte wire on one of those opportunistic leeches!

I spent half the night following the news coverage and trying to contact my family and friends to ensure their safety, and thankfully it would appear those dear to me have come off unscathed.
I was recounted a story last night by a friend who had heard from a good friend us his hiding on her roof because her home was being trashed by these scumbags. How is that protest? Or any statement other than "we do not deserve to be heard"?!

I would truly like to see every single one of those condemning the emergency services being forced off their sofas to kit up and stand shoulder to shoulder with the brave men and women  in uniform.
And as for those guilty of the atrocities across London who are caught and charged, if they want a fight then let's let them have one... on the front lines of the war in Afghanistan with the soldiers who've been risking their lives on these "people's" behalf for the last god knows how long.

In the face of Theresa May's assertions that costs can be cut to the force without repercussion she was proven wrong in the most truly spectacular fashion.

This morning though I was proud to be on my way to work as normal. Bomb trains, riot and loot our homes and businesses but Londoners still stand tall and keep going. Not breaking our spirit!

As I head home tonight the fourth day of trouble appears to have started once again with reports of trouble in Wimbledon already filtering through. To the 16,000 police on our streets tonight I say, those I know and those I don't, thank you and please be safe tonight.

Dear Southwest Trains, Take Two

I think yesterday's epic display of ineptitude calls for another letter I'd love to send to these impressively talented cretins.

Dear Southwest Trains,

We seem to be speaking quite regularly these days don't we? For three years we've had this sort of love/hate relationship where you have disdain for me as your customer and I have apathy for you as my rail provider, but I do think your recent performance is worthy of a second critique.

I tend to catch a half five train, this means I have to leave work bang on five o'clock or I miss it. So it's safe to say I do rush on my way back to Waterloo as you only run two services an hour and the idea of standing around a train station for thirty minutes is, believe it or not, not particularly attractive a prospect. I have nights that I don't make it in time, often due to the tube but those are unavoidable so I don't see the point of being stressed about it.

Last night however I rushed back to Waterloo with a colleague of mine who takes the same train on occasion, she had dinner plans so we forewent our regular Monday walk which pushes our train time back by an hour. Upon arriving we boarded our usual train and after a little deliberation sat in two middle seats facing each other. We did consider standing instead, but thankfully we decided against it.

I say thankfully because not long after sitting down we heard an announcement telling us we would be delayed as there was a problem at Wimbledon. Oh well, we decided to stay put even when we were told this delay was indefinite based on a lack of information provided to the driver of the service. About ten minutes passed and suddenly a huge amount of people from the train on the next platform disembarked and hurriedly boarded the train we were on. I looked askance at one of these "new" passengers and she said they had been informed the train was being diverted and would no longer be stopping at Surbiton, which ours was. Fair enough, total pain for them but at least they had our train to swap to.
I jokingly said to my friend that next thing we'd be told that our train was probably only stopping at Guildford due to rerouting, I didn't realise you were listening for suggestions and putting them into action!

About twenty minutes after the train was due to leave the doors closed and we pulled out of the station, which to me seemed like we'd gotten off lightly, as we had now found out the issue was a fatality at Wimbledon and I'd thought the delay would be much longer. I was, at this point, actually almost impressed with the service you were providing! I really should have known better shouldn't I?

Within about thirty seconds of the train leaving the platform, as in on the move and no longer able to get off from, the driver came on the tanoy to very kindly inform us that this service's first stop would be Weybridge... Seeing as at least fifty percent of the train's occupants were planning on disembarking at Surbiton surely this piece of information would have been significantly more useful to them if you'd shared it prior to leave the station?! All I could hear around my was the sound of people complaining and my friend cancelling her dinner plans.

A few moments later the train pulled into Vauxhall and stopped at one of the platforms. You know even after all the ineptitude you'd shown up to this point I still had an optimistic attitude and assumed you'd open the doors so people who didn't want to go miles out of their way could get off! Yep, wrong again! We sat there for about ten or fifteen minutes while people stared hopefully at the doors willing them to open before getting moving once more. We were rerouted through Teddington, Staines and Egham and just as we were approaching Weybridge there was another announcement. The first stop will now be Byfleet and New Haw. You are joking right?! So you've already pushed people past their desired stop without the option to get off and find an alternative route and now you're taking them even further away?

When the train finally made it to Byfleet and New Haw, bearing in mind we'd been sat on the delightful contraption for around an hour and a half at this point, we had the fun and excitement of having several hundred people get off and need to make their way (in the rain) down an open platform incredibly slowly, under the track and then back up the other side to another open platform in the rain. Thankfully a train pulled in around the time we made it onto the opposite side of the station, but I'm sure you'll understand that this didn't exactly improve our mood towards your inept company by this point! Do you realise that some people were so turned around as to where they were and had been on the train for so long that I heard someone suggest that they thought we were somewhere near Winchester?! That is how little information was provided as to what was going on.
Oh and please let me share with you what the crawl through the underpass was like.

Does that look fun?! Oh and the correct answer is no, in case you're unsure...!

Cue several hundred people squeezing back onto an already busy train with soaking wet floors which were by this point incredibly slippery and made me very grateful for a pole to grab before I ended up on the floor just to polish off the oh so lovely commute I was experiencing. A couple of stops later I was at my actual desired destination just in time for a delightful walk home in the pouring rain and walking in the door three hours after I left my office.

I do understand that someone going under a train is not your fault, however the way you handled the entire incident was poorly thought out, incredibly inconvenient to a large number of your customers and just generally about the poor level of standard I am learning to expect from you.

Let me guess, no refund?

Tube Dodger

As part of my diet and exercise kick I've started walking the four miles back to Waterloo three times a week instead of taking the tube. Now this of course has it's positives and negatives as does anything.

The biggest positive, and the reason I'm doing it really, is the exercise side of it. It means that I'm now walking between three and seven miles a day, five days a week. Great exercise and hopefully good for losing weight, oh and toning up your legs!

Negative side, cyclists in Hyde Park are even worse than commuters on the tube! There's nothing much that ranks higher on the embarrassment scale in these circumstances than having to say you were "run over by a Boris bike"... Though I'm pretty sure the people who rent them actually think of them as dodgems. As in they cycle however and wherever they want and you have to dodge 'em..!

Then you have the serious cyclists who spend too much time looking condescendingly at the Boris bike riders and not enough looking where they're going. Seriously they're a bunch of menaces, especially the ones who seem to think nothing of cycling full tilt across a busy pedestrian crossing, because they being cyclists (in their minds) rule supreme and us lowly ambulating heathens should part like the Red Sea before Moses to grant them unimpeded passage. Across the PEDESTRIAN crossing.... from the Latin "pedester"... meaning ON FOOT!!

Then you also have the horses. Now the sheer amount of horseshit in Hyde Park is stunning in it's enormity, but then I see things like these and it just puts a smile on my face!

A high up crossing signal just for horses, genius!

I have to admit, now I'm getting into it I am really enjoying the walk. It's not just the exercise but it reminds me what a beautiful city this is. It's so easy to forget with the craziness and the rush, but it is an amazing place. The architecture alone is just stunning, not even considering the river and the suprisingly large amount of greenery there is.

Plus, I'd miss out on so much entertainment by not being here and doing this walk! As we approached Embankment last week we were confronted by a mini protest, nothing major and barely held us up as it was just the end.

But as we stood waiting to be able to cross Whitehall I heard someone say "Oh I hate it when they do this!!" and turned to find myself confronted by a tall, slim man with floral shorts, wearing an aliceband and a huge amount of blusher... I would love to be able to share a photo but I was so shocked by his appearance I just sort of forgot I have a camera phone and just stared as he stormed into the middle of the road, stuck two fingers up at a police van before stropping off down the street.

Now really, how many places can you watch a tranny having a hissy fit at a van full of coppers in makeup that bright...?!

I love this city!

The Dangers of Sleep Talking...

This one needs a little back story so here goes.

Recently in a slightly drunken state, read cattled, I decided it would be a fabulous idea to write an email to my father. He and I don't get on and suffice it to say said email was not of the nicest persuasion. I had enough sense however to decide against sending it regardless of alcohol consumption but as some of my phrasings in it had made me giggle to myself I decided to share the amusement with my husband. As I handed him my phone he seemed to forget that iPhone's are touchscreen (I know, I know) and picked it up by the screen, at which point the email vanished off the page. In a total panic over the possibility of this being sent, and with a very sensitive family occasion on the horizon, I switched my phone off, then back on in airplane mode before deleting the email account entirely from the phone. Up until today, I didn't know if it had sent but it had played on my mind to a very large degree.

When I logged on to googlemail this afternoon my laptop automatically decided to log me in to the account in question and I decided that enough was enough and I would bite the bullet and check my sent items. To my great relief there was no sign of the offending article, I breathed a sigh of relief and decided to tell my husband as well so he didn't have to worry about it.

Now, fast forward to tonight.

He's been out this evening watching the boxing at the pub and arrived home around half past one, and in a far more sober state than I had expected, I have to admit! Anyway with a rare show of common sense he decided that the best place for him was bed and duly retired there. About five minutes after he went I remembered about this email and quickly popped my head in to tell him. Our conversation went roughly like this.

Babe are you awake?
Yeah.
Okay, forgot earlier but I meant to tell you I found out that email to my dad never sent.
That's okay, we can always burn the spare shirt.
.... Um, what?
Well that's why we have it, so we can burn the spare shirt.
(laughing) Okay hun, you're asleep so I'll talk to you in the morning.
No, I'm fine. Like I said we'll mince the first half of the cow and the second half of the cow can go in the glove compartment.
(really laughing) Okay, whatever you say... Anyway, you're really asleep so goodnight.
No wait, come back. Why are you laughing?
Can you remember the conversation we just had?
No, not really, something to do with a cow?
Well that's where you went but I was trying to tell you about that email.
See, this is why you love me, and if you're bored later just come in and talk to me!

He has, on the odd occasion, come up with these lovely little moments at night, I think one of my personal favourites was "It doesn't count unless you're towing a dog" though granted I have absolutely no desire to know what he was dreaming about at that point!

So be warned people, if you sleep talk try and cover it up, or else your evil wife might laugh so hard she posts it on the internet...!