The waiting game

That's a lot of bags
Originally uploaded by A Simple Man

I had the misfortune to be stuck in ladies fashion store 'Jane Norman' this afternoon. I don't particularly mind shopping with girls. It's not as bad as it's made out to be. Yes, it does involve waiting around outside changing rooms for a long time, but it provides quality thinking time which is a rarity. It also enables me to look at the other poor souls who are standing around playing the waiting game too.

Whilst I was standing around today, I created a game to keep me occupied. You can play it too, if you want. Here's what to do.

Next time you're sitting on one of those soft cube cushions in the waiting area, pick a man who looks suitably fed up.

Look carefully at his face. Study the look of boredom and frustration then take a bet (with yourself, not with him because he'll probably smack you) on the number of minutes before he has an outburst.

Then, sit back and watch as the look of sheer boredom grows and manifests itself into a fearsome beast, ready to explode at the next halterneck top that the unfortunate man's lady friend chooses to wave under his nose with the immortal line "What do you think?"

I bet seven minutes against one bloke today. He exploded in 3 minutes, 12 seconds. I lost the bet with myself. Highly enjoyable though.

Normal service will soon resume...

Sunbathing iguana
Originally uploaded by A Simple Man

I'm just fiddling with a few bits to make my blogging life a tad easier for me.

If you haven't noticed, I'm not the most regular blogger due to the fiddly nature of this blogging site I'm on. Hopefully, by posting entries this way, I'll be able to comment on more nothingness a bit more frequently.

Avoidance

On Saturday, I went to the gym. However, due to the local council wishing to tear up the roads at a moment's notice, I was stuck in a load of traffic on the way to my normal gym. Having a reciprocal gym membership with this well known fitness chain, I decided to go to another of their branches instead.

I got to said establishment and pulled into a parking spot. I reversed out a little, with the intention of straightening and tidying the parking up. Nothing worse than being outside your polygon - there's no excuse. Anyway, as I was slowly reversing out, some pillock goes by at a ridiculously fast speed and honks his horn. He then pulls up a little further down and has the audacity to stick his head out of the window towards me and make, what can only be described as, a Shaw Taylor Police 5 'Keep 'Em Peeled' gesture with his fingers. (Ask your parents.)

He looked bigger than me so, even though I had really done nothing wrong, I kept my fingers to myself. This is Wembley. You can lose your fingers for just blinking at someone in a funny way.

It was then that the charade began. He parked up a little way down, but refused to get out of his car, instead opting to try and stare me out through his rear view mirror, knowing full well I'd have to pass his car to get into the gym. By this point, I'd got out, grabbed my gym bag from the boot and was about to make way towards my hour of sweat and tears. But I saw his eyes. They looked menacing.

So, I began to do what many of us must have done at some point. In order to buy some time, I acted as if I'd lost something. On the surface, I was pretending to look for my gym card. In my head, I was thinking 'You look like a wally'. I opened the boot and rooted around. Looked up - he was still staring. I went to the passenger door and looked in the glove compartment - beady eyes still on me. I leafed through my pockets, 'sighed'. He hadn't moved an inch.

Buying time had failed. Only one option left for delicate folk like me. I got back in my car and drove home. It was the only sensible thing to do. I'm a realist. I like my face as it is. The muscles can wait a day, I'm just glad I still have a pair of eyes that point forwards, ta very much.

Time is but a passing fad...

See, I take my eye off the clock and it's August already. My last blog update was at the end of May. That's atrocious.

Although I must admit that a lot's happened during the intervening months. Work wise, my class received their Key Stage 2 SATs results and were, by and large, very pleased with themselves. And so they should be. They worked their socks off. Although it still seems some aren't happy. Alas, there will always be critics.

The kids performed their leavers performance, then waved goodbye to life at Primary School, taking their first steps along the long and winding road of adolescence and onto adulthood. Take your time, little ones, it's not as much fun as you think it is, when you finally get here...

As for me, my summer holidays are in full swing. Spent a few days in Cornwall last week. Never been before, but will certainly visit again. Being able to actually see the stars in the night sky was a real treat, as well as popping down to the beach for a spot of surfing as and when the need arose.

However, living there? Never. To me, the rolling green fields and lines of trees are all very well and good for a little visit, but I'm a city lad through and through. I like rude people around me. I like car fumes and noise. I like to sample the delights that international cuisine has to offer me simply by popping down to my local high street. I like to know that if I ever need a packet of Digestives at 3 in the morning, the Happy Shopper down the road will always be willing to serve me. I like broken slabs of pavement tiles - they add character. I like to be busy. I like to meet people from the farthest reaches of the planet on a single night out in Willesden. I like to play chicken with the buses. I like the dodgy London Underground system. I like being a part of the vast number of religious and international festivals that are celebrated here. I like to pay over the odds for anything and everything I buy. Well, maybe not the latter but that's the price you pay for the rest of it.

I'm probably in a minority, but I don't mind. Makes the feeling even more special.

Off-road driving

Walking down the local high street today, I happened to encounter upon this huge BMW 4x4 conveniently parked on the pavement. Clearly, he didn't feel as though there was enough space on the road.

Which is fair enough. I mean, with a car that big, why should the driver use the road at all? No doubt he's more used to deep, treacherous ravines, rocky mountain terrain, miles of waterlogged stretches of paddy fields and awe-inspiringly steep hills for those 4x4 gears to be put to real work.

Oh sorry, no he's not. He's driving in Wembley.

Facebook: Update

I'm addicted. It's official.

This must be what heroin feels like.

I find myself checking it every few hours for a mere snippet of a comment someone may have saved on my 'Wall'. As for the photos people leave of me in my youth, well, they're cringeworthy, yet strangely captivating.

There really, really must be more to life than this.

Getting to know you

I've joined Facebook. I don't understand it myself. I feel I was rallied into it by others and their overzealous comments on the sheer wonderfulness of its existence.

It just seems to be a place where one of two things happens.

Thing Number One
You happen to stumble across someone from your life whom you've spoken to for ages. Could be an old work colleague, maybe someone you were mates with at school. For this, I like Facebook.

Thing Number Two
Some nutter from your past manages to track you down. You've spent all these years trying to distance yourself/change your your name by depol in order to get away from this person, then in one click of a mouse, they're back with you again in all their inanely nerdy glory. For this, Facebook, I can never truely hold you dear to my heart.