The attack of the killer ducks

Look, I know they don't look that vicious and it's also true that some (well most) aren't actually facing me but believe me when I say that these ducks were after me.

With their slightly rounded beaks and flappy feet they were formidable opponents indeed. I did what every sane person would do in my situation, I hid behind N.

And how to I come to be in the path of these blood-thirsty (surely bread-thirsty - ed) anatidaes? We took a road trip to Summmerrrrzet. It was N's birthday so, in a fit of "I'm a lovely girlfriend"-ness, I booked a night in a little hotel and bought some front row tickets to see his favourite band. Hell, any excuse to drink zzzider and talk with a funny accent.

In other thrilling news, I am hungover, again. When I say "hungover" what I really mean is that a very small person did, with malicious forethought, creep into my room and stuff cotton wool into my brain, through my exposed ear. There is nothing else that could account for this fuzzy and full feeling in my head. I very much doubt that it was the cocktail of port, champagne, gin and lager I had last night.

Pimp yourself out (in more ways than one)

It's not that I'm anti-Valentine's Day (and in fact N did cook me a lovely supper last night because he knew he wouldn't be around tonight) but I still love these cards

Also... Peach is putting together a book of different bloggers' writing in aid of WARCHILD. I'm not going to submit anything (unless someone can suggest a suitable topic) but you should. Yes, you... standing over there. Go and have a look.

What's the story, Jackanory?

The story of the Rugby Club ladies and the Bath Boys

It was a cold Monday evening, a slight mist was rolling in and hands were firmly in pockets as the whistle blew for kick off. Four ladies from south-west London sat together in a near empty stadium surveying all that was before them. Mostly men's bottoms. Mostly this man's bottom

The game was exciting, thrilling, one sided. As the night grew colder, the ladies started to drink more for warmth (except one, she was driving). The game drew to a close. "What now?" they asked themselves.

"We have to warm down" one remarked, with incredible enthusiasm, since, in all the years she had been with the club, she had never been seen to think about anything but beer after a match.

With all lunges duly lunged, it was time to go home. Now, it just so happened that the ladies mode of transport had been parked just next to the visitor's coach. "Let's stow on board" "No, let's leave a note". The benevolent coach driver beamed down at the ladies. He'd seen it all before.

Then suddenly, before the coach driver knew what was happening, a bra was whipped off and a pen was found. One of the team was elected "writer" and a short message, followed by a phone number was scribbled on the offending underwear. It hung, jauntily from the rear view mirror. Waiting for someone to come and claim it.

I know someone what did something good

Was very pleased to see my very good friend's sticking it to the Government. Pah! Knew we couldn't trust them.

P.S. Oh and by the way, in my eyes, there are a couple of things more to life than shoes. Chocolate and red wine for starters ;)

Nowt so queer as folk

It's amazing the things you see, sitting in the bubble-like atmosphere of your car, watching the world overtake you.

Look, there's that man, carrying a woman's handbag looking all for the world like he's about to commit some cardinal sin. Furtively, he looks around, hoping no-one will notice the white leather holdall he carries, clutched underneath a fragrant armpit.

And there, the yummy mummy, with her equally beautiful progeny prancing along the road heading towards the local school for beautiful people. No ugly kids near me please, they seem to say. The not-so-yummy-mummy hangs her head and drags her overweight child past the gate, wondering what might have been had she not shacked up with Dave from the local pub.

You have a giggle at the lollipop lady, bedecked in resplendent yellow. Leaning against the wall she looks vacantly at the passing traffic. She sighs. When will the kids come to school so I have something to do?

The woman in the car behind you exercises. Hand under chin, opening and closing her mouth. "I'm sure this is how they said whatsherface did it - and just look at her... not a wrinkle to be seen."

I wonder what people think when they see me as I sit there, singing to myself, playing the drums on the steering wheel and staring out the window.

Six nations rout...

What a weekend for the rugby. A convincing victory over Wales and a real chance of retaining the title for the third year in a row.

EDIT: quick update on previous post. Ex-housemate did email me in the end and told me I had been accepted into the regional squad. This is exciting.

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

Fishing for compliments

I seem to be lapsing into a state where I don't even bother to write my own posts anymore. What can I say, I'm not a writer, there are people out there who write things much more eloquently than I can.