What if...

I tend to use the time I'm in the car to think. It's a good a place as any. It's warm, it's comfortable and more often than not, I'm on my own. Just recently, I've noticed that the things I think about aren't exactly... normal.

I think about the best things that could happen, I think about the worst things that could happen. I think about myself and about other people. I have scenarios planned out. I have dialogue. Am I going mad?!

What would happen if I got sacked?
Where would I live?
Would N stay with me?
What would I do if we broke up?
How would it feel if my parents died?
Would I know who to turn to?
Would they know what to do?
Am I doing the right thing with my life?
Should I jack it all in, move and do something else?
Do my friends really like me?
Am I good at my job or do I just think I am?
When I look at someone on the street and think to myself, oh my god, I'm glad I'm not as fat as her... am I actually as fat as her and I just don't realise it?
How do other people see me?
Will I age gracefully?
Will I ever have the life I want?
What would my ideal house be like?
Can you imagine living with N for the rest of your life?
What would you do if you suddenly came into money?
What are you doing with your life?

I think I need to stop thinking and start doing!

In Hertford, Hereford and Hampshire...

A bout of chuntering with Milla has led me to realise how unforgiving I am of those who incur my grammatical, stylistical and vocabularical wrath (and yes, vocabularical is a word. A word I made up. Shush, I'm ranting)

There are a couple of things which really really really annoy me.

Toilet:
It's not a toilet. It's a loo. The origins of "loo" are unknown but there are a number of wonderful theories... all which are much better than toilet (which seems to be an Americanism). Lavatory (from the Latin lavātōrium) is of course, even better.

Lounge:
Unless you live in an airport, you do not have a lounge in your house. You have a sitting room (which is normally slightly more informal) or possibly a drawing room. Not used for drawing, but rather withdrawing.

Couch:
Sofa. Sofa. Sofa. Couch? Brings up visions of Land of Leather. Ditto settee

Serviette:
It may sound French. It may be French. It's still horrible. You probably get serviettes in a McDonalds. If you're at my house, you get napkins.

Tux/Tuxedo:
Another Americanism (and hey, this isn't a beat-the-Americans-over-the-head-with-a-stick post it's just I don't like certain ways they do things... politics amongst others). It's a dinner jacket. You wear it when having dinner. Which neatly leads me onto...

Tea/Dinner:
I've never understood this one. In my house it was always... Breakfast, Lunch, Tea, Supper. Breakfast is pretty self-explanatory. Lunch, meal in the middle of the day. Tea, either a cup of tea or a small snack when home from school (at around 4/5 ish). Supper, meal at the end of the day, around 8/9 o'clock. Some people have Breakfast, Dinner and then Tea. How does that work?

Hello, pleased/nice to meet you/how's it going:
Even I have to admit, I'm a bit slack with this one... it depends to whom I am talking. Interviewers, friends of parents, N's parents/friends, certain people I went to uni/school with? "Hello. How d'you do?". Random person I'm being introduced to in the pub? "Hi, how's it going?"

Setting the table:
Fork on the left. Knife on the right (blade facing in please). Finished eating? Knife and fork together in the middle of the plate (blade again, facing in).

Eating:
Fork in left hand, knife in right. Elbows off table (unless you've finished). Finishing your mouthful before talking. Wait until everyone's got food before starting. Napkins on lap, not tucked in anywhere else. If you're a child, ask to leave the table, don't just assume you can. If you're an adult and you need to go somewhere, excuse yourself. If you're a guest, always offer to help clear away. Don't stack the plates. Certainly don't scape the plates at the table. Take them out to the kitchen 2 (or 3 if you can manage it) at a time.

Snobbish? Maybe. Sue me.

EDIT 200308: Thank you peach - a typo meant I'd completely undone all my ranting previously. Knife is now firmly placed in the right hand. Phew.

Trains, planes and automobiles

I like Dublin. It's scruffy, the people are nice and the money doesn't seem real (am I the only one who thinks that Euros are like Monopoly money?)

What I don't like about Dublin is the airport. I don't like it when I spend more time in the airport than in Dublin itself. I don't like it when my plane is delayed and I have to sit around for three hours with nothing to do. I don't like the uncomfortable seats. I don't like the internet stations that steal all your money. I don't like the noisy groups of teenagers who insist on standing behind me, shouting at the top of their voices. I don't like the fact you can't get a proper knife and fork to eat the (mediocre) food with.

I don't like the fact that I'm knackered today thanks to Dublin airport.

Have you had an accident at work...?

Anna over at little.red.boat (a cracking read by the way, much recommended) has recently had a rant about a large processed chicken fast food chain advert. Her justified anger made me angry just thinking about all those adverts which just make me scream at the screen. I figured the only way to purge myself of this anger and free myself to get on with some work was to rant. Uncontrollably. Forgive me.

The Advertising Hall of Shame (as voted for by a screaming nutty cow):

Picture the loan - A couple of things really annoy me about this advert. Leaving aside all the moral issues about advertising debt to people who are already in debt (Carol Vorderman, I'm talking to you here, too) consider the following. Why would you film your loved one on the phone when they were sorting out a consolidation loan? It's not something you're going to show the grandchildren, is it? "Look dear, this is when we got ourselves into more debt, just before we declared ourselves bankrupt!". Secondly, the... "how much do you want to borrow? £25,000?" - the casual way in which this couple discuss their finances leads me feel that they shouldn't have access to a piggy bank, let alone £25,000.

Frosties - "They might taste great/but they make me irate/Frosties adverts are something I really hate" the most annoying jingle in the last 20 years. Believe me, you'll have it running through your head for the rest of the day. And while I'm at it... surely it's just wrong to rhyme "great" with "pirate"?
PS. While searching for a suitable photo I found this article... tee hee.


Halifax - Somewhere in advertising land, a brainstorming session is underway. "I tell you what would be really great... an advert... with real people... singing real songs which we can amend to make them applicable to banking! What d'ya think of that?" "Great idea Bob!". Well, I'm sorry to burst your bubble, Bob, but it wasn't a great idea. It was a shit idea. Banks are supposed to be trustworthy, have an air of gravitas. Would you trust your bank manager if you knew that two weeks ago he was prancing around in spandex singing a poor rendition of "We are sailing", sorry "We are saving"? No, didn't think so. Think of the children people.

DulcoEase - The first thing I do when I go out for lunch with my friends is talk to them about the trouble I've had trying to do a poo. Really, it is. And you know what, more often than not they just happen to have a handy pack of laxatives in their handbag. Aren't girls just great?

Seriously, does this ever happen?

My handbag contents normally consist of a phone, keys, wallet, some cigarettes, possibly a lighter. On occasion I have makeup and even, more rarely, some paracetemol. I don't think I've ever got ready for a night out and thought "Hmmm, better put some of these bad boys in. You know, just in case I have a strained moment."

Hearing about the bowel movements of my closest friends is just not something I expect. Boys, I know, have an obsession with anything scatalogical. Us ladies, I think we're a tad more refined.

Glade - Continuing with the poo theme (I'm starting to sound a little bit like ScaryDuck here) small child on loo shouting "it's all gone, it's all gone" (in a really badly dubbed "English" accent). 1. The offending "touch 'n' fresh is about 4 foot away. How did he discover it was empty? He must have shuffled over there. 2. Where did he get the pen and paper from? He must have shuffled around to find some - possibly in another room. 3. How did he manage to push it under the door without getting off the loo? He didn't, he would have had to move. So, with all this movement, theoretically he could have got up, wiped arse, pulled trousers up, washed hands etc, and then changed the glade thing. But oh no, small child still couldn't be bothered to change the glade thingy. Lazy child.

What's annoying you today?

EDIT: Just had to go through that post and amend all the typos. Obviously my anger at these adverts has taken itself out on my typing.

My weekend in statistics

City travelled to: Dublin
Girls on trip: 12
Hours away: 50
Hours spent in airports: 10
Hours spent in air: 2
Rooms stayed in: 2
Hangovers: 2
Bloody Marys consumed to counteract hangovers: 7
Rugby matches watched: 3
Rugby matches remembered: 0
Scotsmen met: 10 million
Passports lost: 1 (not mine)
Phones lost: 1 (again, not mine)
Average price (in Euros) per drink: 6
Things I never thought I'd see, seen: 3

Ah yes, the weekend was grand. Expensive beyond belief but grand none the less. Despite being delayed, having a plane break on us and staying in a cardboard box room with a wooden mattress I think a good time was had by all.

It was strange though, Dublin has a reputation for being a friendly city, welcoming to all. However, all members of the girlie group commented on the fact that there were a couple of periods when we felt damn uncomfortable being there.

It surprised me that people were openly hostile towards us, because we were English. If we were, say, football fans, largered up, fists at the ready, I might be able to understand it (although I would never condone violence). As it was, 12 rugby girls on a mission of fun is hardly your likely target for animosity, is it? Members of the group were called "bitches", "whores", "bloody English sluts" and a hand was even raised on one occassion.

It didn't stop us having fun of course but I just wonder where this hatred has come from or, was it always there and I have just been oblivious?

A grumble

You will allow me a little moan on this Friday morning.

I'm a tad hungover and I just feel like it, ok?

Now, when I pay nearly £500 for a ticket home there are a couple of things I expect...

a) a ticket
b) a drink once on board
c) something to help me while away the 8 hour flight.

Sadly when I booked a seat on "Has not known love in the Biblical sense" Airlines* I was not afforded any of these luxuries.

a) a ticket - took 2 months and 15 irate calls to customer services for them to send me through an e-ticket. Despite a confimation email saying it would take no longer than 72 hours.

b) a drink once on board - oh, don't get me wrong, you're allowed a drink. A soft drink. Order anything more and you immediately become the spawn of Satan. A lush. A drunkard. Someone that can't be trusted with a bottle of lighter fluid. They've even added their "thou shalt not drink" to the pre-flight spiel. "Welcome aboard this Goody Two Shoes* flight to Jomo Kenyatta airport, Nairobi. The emergency exits are here, here and here and by the way, if you drink alcohol on board you'll be pushed through one faster than you can say 'gin and tonic'. Have a nice flight." Bastards.

c) something to help me while away the 8 hour flight - my biggest whinge. I don't think I'm asking too much to expect a personal tv, even in economy. I think I could even demand that it showed decent films, at a time that suited me, and I wouldn't be pushing it. On Sanctimonious Airlines* however, what you actually get is a 3.5 inch screen (so, slightly bigger than a Blackberry) which shows 5 different (and rubbish) channels *at the same time*. Therefore, once your film has finished, you then have to wait another hour before all the other channels are finished before you can watch anything else. In the end I had to resort to poking the person in front of me with various implements to see if I could wake them up.

*possibly not its real name