Monday, 30 April 2007

Polite people

Went to the petrol station to top up the air in my car's tyres this afternoon.

I'm overly concious about this issue now as I went through a period of not checking the tyres at all, resulting in them quickly wearing down to well past the legal limit. Not big and not clever.

I went to a Texaco petrol station close to where I live. I pulled up beside the machine and then - being the precise keeno that I am - went around my tyres checking what pressure I should be filling up to.

Again, in my days of laxness, even when I did get around to filling air up, I'd just fill up without checking anything. I must have often filled up the car with the air that the push-bike in front had used. This probably was a secondary factor to the tyres going bald.

Anyway, as I was being safety concious and checking the tyres, a man pulled up behind me and asked if he could jump in. I was just about to begin the process myself but he had greasy hands (like a mechanic) and looked bigger than me so I let him cut in front.

I kept my distance throughout in case he turned nasty.

However, when he was done, he politely turned round and, with a cheeky little glint in his eye, said that there was still quite a bit of time left in the machine and that I was welcome to quickly make the most of it.

I did just what he said. And there was still time left after that for the next chap who had pulled up.

Our mechanic friend must have put at least a quid in. It's good to know that polite people still exist.

Even if he did have very greasy hands.

Thursday, 26 April 2007


As you may have read earlier, I try my hardest to get to the gym. When I can be arsed.

I dream of a set of abs tight enough to grate cheese on, arms that Popeye would be envious of, a chest that would need doorways to be widened to allow me to pass through.

In reality, my abs are hidden under an ever increasing podgy belly, arms that even Olive Oyl would snigger at and a chest that's more sparrow than Schwarzenneger.

Nevertheless, I persist. However, it seems to me that all rules regarding politeness and manners seem to go out the window as soon as you enter the house of pain.

For example, I'm actually surprised that I haven't yet caught any kind of fungal infection from other folk who use equipment in there, then wander off without wiping down, leaving a gloriously glistening damp patch on the seat that my rear end is about to advance on.

Then, there's the grunting. In any normal situation, a man (and more women now I've noticed too) groaning and roaring like a lot of them in there do would raise a few eyebrows. But, no. In there, you can be as loud as you want and no-one bats an eyelid. Except me. I'm always fascinated by the people making that much noise.

They also pull unattractive faces as they do their lifting. I often wonder if that's their sex face too.

Today, though, I encountered a new phenomenon. I was getting changed after a bit of a workout (I'd much rather have watched Deal Or No Deal) and was getting my bits from the locker I was occupying. As I was kneeling down, a middle aged gentleman then approached and opened the locker directly above mine.

As he started to get his things out, something fell to the floor from his locker. Now, in any other circumstances, I'd have picked it up and offered it back to the person who'd dropped it. Dummy - here you go little chap. Papers - there you are, busy office person. Glove - don't want to lose that, it's chilly today.

He'd dropped his underpants.

Now, call me rude, but I didn't even offer. I took a quick glance, realised what they were and looked away. I shouldn't have done that. By looking away, I turned to face his flacid penis in my face.

I suppose that's a lesson for us all. Always be kind and considerate to others, or else you too could end up with a floppy willy waving at you.

Wednesday, 25 April 2007

Safety concious motorists

Haven't been on here for a while. A month exactly to be precise. Clearly nothing of merit has occurred.

Actually, it probably has but I've been too lazy to find photos or link things up. All far too technical and wasting valuable 'Some Mothers Do 'Ave 'Em' time on UK Gold.

Anyway, driving back from work today, I happened to meet possibly the most safety concious motorcyclist in existence. To get to and from work, I have to go down a particularly tricky road due to the way its set up.

Now, I've tried to explain this in my head before I type it, but it's confused me so I'm going to go through it step by step:

1) Drive to end of road.
2) Meet junction with traffic coming from the right (obviously).
3) I want to go over the junction, but can't, as the local council have built a barrier preventing this from happening.
4) Don't know why the barrier is there.
5) To get over to the other side of the junction I can either:
5i) Go left and do an illegal u-turn or
5ii) Go left, turn up a side street, do a 3-point turn (legally), rejoin the road on the other side, then turn and continue on the road I want to be on.

I gave one of my colleagues a lift home a few times and the first time I did this, he thought I was going up the side street to take advantage of him or something. I didn't.

Anyway, back to my story, on the way back from work today (just realised I've written the instructions for my drive to work. Hmmm, read the above and reverse it), I'd just done my 3-point turn and was about to turn onto the main road again.

Now, I say I was about to turn back onto the main road but I was approaching it at about 2mph, preparing myself to get to a complete stop in order to check traffic in both directions (look, look and look again) before going over.

As I waited, I saw a motorcycle coming from the left. Although motorcycle may be an overly glamorous word for the contraption. It was one of those hairdryers on wheels that always seem to have a little box at the back for the (invariably elderly) rider's lunch. He saw me and proceeded to beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep and beep again. Then he gave me the evil eye.

I'm in a red car. It's a sunny day. I'm glad he saw me because I'd be worried if he didn't.

I clearly saw him as I heard the faint 'put-putting' sound of his motor from quite a way away before he tootled past.

But the beeping? There was no chance of running him over. I'd have had to have stopped laughing in order to do that.

I'm now interested to know if he approaches each and every junction with his diligent series of beeps to warn other drivers of his position.

I hope to see him again. He's a prime example of road safety in action.