I am writing this in Microsoft Word on my HTC Windows 7 Phone with the intention of emailing it to myself and posting it on Blogger afterwards using the 15 minutes of free internet that those STINGY BASTARDS on the train allow me. I am on a train you see from Leeds to London and whilst my phone has ace t'internet access I don't want to loose all my carefully crafted words whenever we go through a tunnel.
Carefully crafted - ha - you're lucky you're getting formed sentences baby because I am SO tired that I can barely think straight. Good day to have a meeting scheduled, what?
I didn't know that The Clocks Changed this weekend until my dear sexpot Kate wrote this hilarious Blog Post about that very subject. The train just pulled out of the station at Leeds and I thought "OH FUCK I'M ON THE WRONG TRAIN", then remembered that I'd be early not late, then remembered that would make it on peak not off peak and I had an off peak ticket and I have no money until payday on THURSDAY and I'd have to offer to bribe the ticket collector with a gobjob (sorry Daddy) or some raisins or something because otherwise I'd be jailed for having the wrong ticket, but then I could also risk jail for soliciting ticket inspectors who keep track of what the time is.
Wow long sentence.
Luckily my phone knows how rubbish I am and changed the time for me. I asked the ticket collector and he told me I had the right time. So all that worrying for nothing. I settled down to read Kate's post and then almost got chucked out of the quiet carriage for laughing uproariously.
I am absolutely rubbish at trains. I always have music, books, snacks etc with me and sometimes DVDs too so the journey would be nice but I have bad train karma. I get stuck next to the smelly, loud people (train people smell of soup - they do!!) who sit there spraying me with half masticated chunks of McDonald's or shed dandruff on my skirt.
Or those people who misread the "fuck off, I'm listening to Bowie on my big Skull Candy headphones and reading this book" situation and try to talk to me in an attempt to lure me into the toilets or whatever. "What are you reading?" will earn them a slap across the face with my book so that they can read the reverse imprint of the title across their forehead when they go to the toilet alone.
Trains also make me itch. I thinks its the seats made of carpet or the knowledge that varying people have buried their flatulent, sweating buttocks into where I am sat, clenched and wishing I could open a window to let fresh air inside.
I inevitably scratch my leg, forgetting that I am wearing tights, rip a hole right down my leg and have to go change my tights in the toilet (I always carry spares) which I inevitably forget to lock once once I've hit the "close" button and am revealed to a fleet of passing people as balancing with one foot in the sink whilst I pull new tights on and try not to fall into the toilet.
I do not care for trains.
The Boy is away all week again, I'm just away today and Thursday and I've spent all weekend filling my new living room with furniture. Much carting of books, DVDs and CDs up and down 2 flights of stairs. I could crack walnuts with my ass right now.
The Boy was bemused by my method of organising books - taking into account for example that I will need a space for my exceptionally talented friend Lisa's third book. Alphabetising with foresight rocks. Bring it OCD!
We also went to hang out with The Boy's best friend and his sister for wine, pizza, olives, hummus and finger chillis (on nom nom) in front of Skyline. I am told the film was rubbish which I assume is true because I fell asleep literally 4 minutes into it, curled up next to The Boy on a huge purple beanbag. It could possibly also be because two of the guests passed a joint around whilst I looked in panic at The Boy. I am as anti-drugs as I am anti-smoking so smoking drugs in my presence is not something I will thank you for. I was trying to work out how to politely extract myself from the situation without embarrassing The Boy or looking judgmental to those guests who were smoking when I fell asleep and solved that problem. I woke up just in time for cheesecake. Good times.
Ziggy played guitarrrrrraaaaarrrrraaaarrrrrr.
Title: 5.15 The Angels Have Gone by David Bowie