Voila!

Not a great photo, but you get the idea!

What's the verdict? 

Ch-ch-ch-changes

After the snow fall that Norwich had this weekend, I’m suddenly feeling a lot more Christmassy than I was. Let’s face it, I wasn’t exactly scrooge-like before, so I’m basically an elf now!

The snow even inspired me to buy some Christmas presents, huzzah. My spreadsheet’s coming along nicely, especially since I employed the traffic light system… I still have no idea what to buy some people, though. I find it pretty hard to buy presents for other people that aren’t secretly (or not so secretly, in some cases) for myself. In fact, I am one of those people that has to buy themselves presents when Christmas shopping so they don’t get jealous. Sad, I know. Maybe I didn’t get enough love in my childhood or something! I’m kidding, of course. I definitely didn’t! (boom boom)

Of course, I’m not going to tell you who I’ve bought for and who is causing problems. Suffice it to say, I should have managed everything by mid-December, which’ll be nice. I like being super organised for Christmas – and we need to be this year as we’re leaving for Plymouth early on the 23rd, so we need to have finished everything by the weekend before. That’s because we’re off to the cinema that weekend and then my work Christmas do is on the Monday.

Well, I say work Christmas do. What I actually mean is ‘one of the work Christmas dos’. At the last count, we’ve got four. Four! One huge, department event at Carrow Road, a smaller team one at a pub in Norwich, a small team one somewhere else and another one which I’ve forgotten the reason for and no doubt will be in a pub in Norwich. Phew! This does mean that I need a new drrrrresssss. I want a strapless, electric blue prom dress, perhaps with a bow at the back. I also want a tux jacket to go over the top. Any ideas? I’m going shopping with Miss S this week so hopefully it’ll all be sorted out in plenty of time. To be honest, I could scrape by with what’s in the wardrobe, but where’s the fun in that?

Aside from the numerous, multiple work dos, I have a hugely busy week this week. Not that I’m complaining, but here’s how my week looks: Monday: Tim Minchin, Tuesday: hair makeover/football match, Wednesday:dress shopping, Thursday: The Vagina Monologues and Friday: The Waterfront for 90s night. Sheesh. It’s only Monday and I’m shattered already. Oh. Dear.
Still, I do enjoy being busy. I also have a driving lesson at 09.30am on Saturday, so I’d better make sure I only have one or two pints – there’s nothing worse than learning to drive with a hangover! The last time I did that we went to the beer festival, which was really good fun but drinking different, very high percentage ciders for 6 hours and then getting up at 7.15am to drive was not the best morning of my life.

O, we found out last night that the showing of “It’s a Wonderful Life” is being shown in the technicolour version. Boo. We were all set to haul fifteen of us to go and see it, exchange secret santa gifts and enjoy a roast dinner the Sunday before Christmas. If anyone has seen it in colour and black and white, I’d love to know what you thought. The stills I’ve seen in colour just look horrible – uber bright and basically, just plain wrong. So, we need a change of plan. Personally I think a pot luck at someone’s house (the one with the biggest living room) would be pretty cool – we could borrow a projector from somewhere and camp out on the floor. Pot luck would be cool too – it would mean the host(s) wouldn’t have to worry about feeding fifteen people and everyone could pitch in. I’m singing “Buffalo Girls” just thinking about it. Yay.

I spent six hours last Saturday reading “Breaking Dawn”. For those of you who don’t know, it’s the fourth in the Stephenie Meyer series about the love story of Bella and Edward. They’re ace. They make me feel like I should be sixteen again in order to read them and appreciate them properly, but in a way they make me feel like I am sixteen again. They’re well written and well thought out – it doesn’t try to hard to be clever and the most important thing – they’re funny. Bella spends the series trying to convince Edward to turn her into a vampire to stop her getting wrinkly (and so they can be together forever, blah blah blah) and Edward spends the series tying to get her to marry him before she’s a vampire, so she can have the human experience he never had. There’s more to it than that, of course, but it’s pretty funny. I recommend them to anyone who enjoys Buffy, Angel – any Joss Whedon stuff, mixed with a bit of Gossip Girl.
The other great thing about Stephenie Meyer is that (apart from having FOUR Es in her name) she lists her music playlist in all of her books, the bands that inspire her to write. I think this is great as I believe that music is extremely inspiring and can alter our mood in an instant. Just think about when you’re walking down the street listening to your i-pod and something with a fantastic beat comes on – The Clash’s Should I stay or Should I go, Kaiser Chief’s “Yours Truly, Angry Mob”, anything by Soulwax etc etc. I don’t know about anyone else, but my pace automatically speeds up, my head raises, I stand straighter and it makes me nearly dance. Anyway, the point is, Meyer’s inspirations appear to be taken directly from my CD collection – Arcade Fire, Muse and Interpol to name a few.

There are four books in the Bella/Edward saga. I enjoyed every one of them. If you’re stuck for a Christmas present, I recommend them. For you or someone else. Thanks to my good friend Miss B for introducing me to them and for having such good taste in books (and music and film!)

Say goodbye to my brown hair, friends. Tomorrow (Tuesday) I will be getting my old colour stripped and a brand new colour laid on. I’m jonesing for a white blonde. I’ve wanted to be white blonde since I crushed on Dash-X from Eerie, Indiana.
The downside is that the only person I can think of with the right kind of blonde is this guy:




Although the suit is amazing, I am worried about his expression and the fact that it may rub off on me if I dye my hair his colour. I don’t think that will happen, though. It’s more likely that the hairdresser will refuse to make it that colour. Never fear, bleach savvy friends – it’s organic colour so it will be much better for my hair. I’m quite excited, though.

Wish me luck! I may post a photo on Wednesday…. Happy week, dear readers.

Walking in a winter wonderland

Firstly, my apologies to you. I’ve been meaning to write again for weeks but seem to run out of time.
I’m in the third week of my job and I really enjoy it. It feels like I’ve been here for about three days in terms of time passing – the weeks fly by as there’s so much to do. Everyone’s really nice – I’m sure that’ll change as I settle in more with the team, but so far it’s all been a smooth transition. As a whole, the team are really busy which means that I haven’t really had a chance to get to know everyone yet. As usual, smoking helps with that as you get to recognise people and have chats with them outside of work. The hierarchy disappears when you’re a smoker – if you (on the bottom rung) and the Director-General-President smoke, you’ll find yourself swapping nieces and nephews stories in no time, bumming fags from each other and co-ordinating breaks. In terms of the other people, we have a few Christmas lunches coming up so that’ll be a chance to get to know them properly.
I love working in Norwich. I’ve met a few friends for lunch already, which is great. I also get home in time for Neighbours, which I haven’t done for at least a year. Luckily, I have great friends who update me on what’s happening to who. It definitely looks different on Channel 5, though. Still, it’s nice to have the option of watching it if I want. Hollyoaks is on so late! When I used to work away it’d be a bit of a rush to get home in time for the E4 ep, nevermind the Channel 4 one. Now I have a clear hour to toddle about before the early episode comes on. Simple pleasures, eh?
There are only a few cons, neither of which go anywhere near outweighing the benefits. The first is that I don’t have time to read anymore. I used to spend nearly three hours a day reading when I was on the train, and now I spend an extra hour in bed and an extra hour watching the telly or doing something a little more productive. I know what you’re saying – I could easily set aside an hour or two at night to read. I’m just too lazy to. I am reading eclipse at the moment though, which is the third book in the Edward/Bella vampire saga. It’s pretty ace. Definitely a specific audience, but still ace.
The other con is that I’m spending far too much money! Popping out for lunch leads me into Topshop, where I buy things like this : Shiny hat of joy
Or I go to somewhere expensive for lunch and end up paying a tenner a day. Not to mention the damage done to my waistline… Still, it’s all worth it. I just need to exercise my willpower a little bit more in the monetary and subsistence ways.

I have a bit of an axe to grind this week. How much does it cost for an overdue book? My library is upwards of £1 per book, per week. That means that I’ve regularly paid £8 for four overdue books, late by ten days. Please, tell me if it’s an over-reaction from me but I resent paying a new book for a couple of overdue books. I think my problem was that I was under the impression that you could get books out for six weeks, when it’s actually three.
That is an oversight on my part. However, I still think that the charges are pretty steep. That means that people who check out the maximum allowance of fifteen books end up paying £15 a week – more, if I’ve calculated incorrectly.
That’s another thing that’s irritating me. The fees and charges aren’t clear at all. On the website, in the library – ask a member of staff and nine times out of ten they give you a different/vague answer.
I wouldn’t grudge it so much if 1) the library was not equipped with dozens of computers complete with scanners, printers etc, none of which I use on a regular basis (ie more than once a year) 2) if the charges were clearer 3)if the library was not already funded with council money, paid for by council tax payers.
When you can get a book from HMV for £3, it seems pointless to waste money on the library.
Don’t get me wrong – the responsibility lies with me. I’m not moaning about the charges themselves – just the sheer expense of them. I’d like to complain but can’t think of a way to do it without sounding like a whiny teenager.
What do you reckon?

Anyway, on to nicer things. Christmas is just around the corner! YAY! I’m always excited about Christmas. I think, if it’s possible, I get more excited every year. We watch Christmas films, eat lots of yummy Christmas stuff (although I don’t like Christmases Cake, Pudding or mince Pies) and generally have lots of fun. I wrote a present list today. In fact, please don’t laugh or disown me due to excessive geekery, but I wrote a spreadsheet. It has people, shops, budget, items and status on it. There’s also a things to do list and a deadline. I might even incorporate some formatting so it can be pretty, shiny colours. Oh. Dear.
I’m also seeing The Black Keys in the next fortnight, in London. I saw them at UEA a couple of years ago and they were amazing. This is going to be cool. Another benefit to working in Norwich – when we got the tickets I was in Cambridge and was going to have to battle through rush hour on the train to get to London and then somehow meet Mr Charming and friends at the venue. This way we can all go together and it’ll be much more relaxed.

Speaking of relaxed – our new bed is amazing. I love it so. The top of the mattress is two feet off the ground, which is amazing when you’ve been sleeping about six inches off the ground for three years. It’s so big as well – I can stretch out and not worry about my feet sticking out the bottom. The duvet’s lush too – we got a Silentnight all seasons tog, which is basically a 9 tog and a 4.5tog duvet which you can stick together with heavy duty Velcro. It’s lovely. I can’t believe it’s taken us this long to get another bed. Of course, now we’ve done that we need to get bedside tables and a couple of tall bookcases as the rest of the house looks out of place… It also took us three hours to get the old bed dismantled and drag the new one upstairs. We live in a cosy mid-terraced house – fairly standard in Norwich. The less than average thing about it, the feature which made us plump for that house in the first place, is the unconventional staircase. It runs parallel with the outside alleyway and is hidden by a door which looks like it should belong to a cupboard. This is great, and it looks lovely, until you try to get something slightly bigger than a lunchbox up the stairs. They take a sharp turn after the door, which led to a pretty stressful forty five minutes. Still, it was all worth it in the end. Suffice it to say: we’re not going to be moving soon.

And now, the end is near...

This is definitely not a complaint. First class is really quiet. It’s what libraries used to be, before turning into emo youth hangouts they are today. People in first class whisper – they even cough quietly.

Which means that when people are loud, it’s really annoying. It doesn’t help that it’s an enclosed part of the carriage either, so the noise goes nowhere. The other day I was ensconced in my book when I became aware of a hideous, grinding noise. I looked up and the gentleman beside me had decided to eschew his fruit salad to chew his spork instead. Personally, I would have plumped for the fruit.

The train was really, really full in the middle of the week because, basically, there’s never enough room for the amount of people who want to get on. Loads of people commute to Cambridge from Ely, which is only fifteen minutes away and has a really pretty cathedral. It looks like quite a nice place, but the scallies to normal people ratio is a bit high for my liking. I suppose the same could be said for Norwich, though.

Just before the train pulled off on the way home, a woman popped through the first class doors. These doors are motion sensitive on the inside but they have to be button operated from the outside. Which is cool, as then there are no pesky draughts/standard class people to bother us… So, the woman darted through and sat in a seat. At this point there were only two people in first class including me, so that was fine. Plus, my lefty guilt was seeping through as I watched the rest of the passengers struggling to stand in the crowded carriage. The conductor came round almost straightaway – pretty unusual for such a packed train. The woman immediately said “I don’t have a first class ticket, there wasn’t room to stand and no seats left”. The conductor asked where she was getting off, which was Ely. He said it was fine and then extended the question to myself and my first class companion, asking if we’d mind if some other people were to come in – just until Ely. Naturally I said yes, that’s fine. Until Ely.

In the end, only one other woman came in, who joined myself and the other woman at the table. They immediately struck up a conversation about how incompetent the train company was and how annoying it is to have bought a first class ticket and have standard class people sit there. I had to gawk at the clanger one woman came out with.

“We were de-classified once on a train from Twickenham – the train was so full that anyone was allowed to sit anywhere. Of course, it meant we had people coming in and talking loudly when we’d wanted peace and quiet”

Some people are so unaware of themselves, it’s astounding.

The other thing (this is definitely not a problem, not in the slightest) is that you’re unavoidably drawn into other peoples’ conversations. You know that Steven is going to be late home and Martin is on the 17.12 train (thanks Martin, I knew that already) and that he’s having stew for tea. I was privy to a conversation about a young lady who gets on at Thetford, the other day. Two middle aged men were talking about work – one of them called the other a muppet as a joke and his companion said” Easy, I am two grades above you”. What a horrible man! Anyway, he followed this gem up by commenting on the girl that got on – “She’s pretty”. The unspoken comments hung in the air. In fact, his eyes said more than his mouth. The disappointment was tangible that she wasn’t in a sheer negligee. Ick.

I discovered that first class does not have mere strip lighting like standard, oh no. Most of the time there is a funky Orient Express lamp and a spotlight! I have not yet used either as it has not been dark enough. I may use he spotlight today, though. Or I might try out the lamp.

I am leaving work early today. In fact, I am leaving work today. This morning was the last time I had to get up at 06:25am unless it’s Christmas. Rather fittingly, this morning was the first time I’d gotten up with the moon. I honestly thought that next door had left their security light on again (seriously, brighter than the sun and able to shine through no less than three walls into our bedroom) but on closer inspection, the moon was out. I had to check three clocks to make sure I hadn’t gotten up an hour early. Unfortunately, I hadn’t. Walking to work with the glimmers of the moon and the sun is weird. Walking home at 6.30pm in the pitch black is weird too. I won’t be doing it for much longer, though!

Honestly, it’s a bit sad that I’m not going to be here longer. At the end of the day, though, I had to do what was right for my own career rather than try not to offend some people by daring to hand my resignation in. Oh well.

I’m reading new moon at the moment, which is quite a hefty tome. A full 500 odd pages, although there’s a bit of a cheat as the first chapter of the next book is nestled at the back. Darn their tricksy ‘buy the next book’ moves. I have to go to the library anyway so I’ll have a look for Eclipse then.

I haven’t finished yet, but I’ve only got a chapter to go. Here’s what I think: not half as good as twilight. This is more forced, rushed, less sure of itself. There are some horribly glaring grammatical errors that make me wince, which could easily have been avoided by a careful proof reader or editor. Books with typos, spelling errors and grammatical errors annoy me as to me, it shows disrespect to the reader. If ‘they’ can’t even be bothered to make sure everything is spelled properly and the reader does not have to do extra work to understand the novel, why did I bother spending x hours reading it or spend my hard-earned cash on it?

In terms of the plot, though, it’s fun. Predictable and it could definitely have been 200 pages shorter, but still enjoyable. There are two more books to read after this one, and the film comes out soon! The writing is a bit laboured in this one but there are flashes of twilight’s ease and natural conversation that peek out every now and then.

I will watch the film and probably love it, although I feel that I am betraying myself by watching a film with a Harry Potter actor in it…

I’m definitely Team Edward though!

Who’s been watching Hollyoaks?

The last week or so has been brilliant . I’m not even being ironic – it’s the climax to a slow build-up which has seen a villain torment the McQueens under his own irrational sense of injustice. They’ve been unaware of this conductor of their poor fortunes. Until now. Exploding churches, dead people, people who are meant to be dead but aren’t, people who are meant to be schizophrenic but aren’t (for those episodes, anyway), family betrayal, secrets… How will they recover from their physical and mental wounds? Will anything be the same again?

See what I mean? It’s brilliant.

I’m off paintballing this weekend so I may not be with you again… If I succumb to the enemy, remember this. Be good to yourself, and each other.

Operation Neon

“We flying the first class
Up in the sky
Poppin' champagne
Livin' the life
In the fast lane
And I won’t change
By the Glamorous, oh the flossy flossy”

This has been in my head for a couple of weeks. All blame lies on Gossip Girl… In some episodes there’s a slightly camp madrigal type choir who seem to always sing slightly inappropriate ditties. A case in point – Fergie’s masterpiece. The excerpt begs the question: what the hell is ‘flossy, flossy’? If anyone knows and would like to explain, I’d be most grateful. Don’t even get me started on the atrocious grammar… Young people these days.

To be honest, there haven’t been any stand out characters on the train recently. Perhaps I’ve stopped noticing because it’s been a while now, or perhaps I’ve stopped noticing because I’ve become one of Them . It’s a good thing this is my last week, if that is the case.
I bit the bullet and bought a first class season ticket. (I wanted to keep the accidental alliteration going there but couldn’t think of a b for ticket, besides billet, that would make sense…) It was extremely expensive but I was determined to treat myself. I was even more determined when the woman who sold me the ticket confirmed twice with me that I wanted the first class (oh the flossy, flossy) season ticket and explained that sometimes trains don’t have them and I wouldn’t be able to sit in first class if it wasn’t there. I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted on being spoken to like a five year old. Oh well, the upside is I spent over one hundred pounds before 7.30am today. That must be a record.

Speaking of spending money, as an FYI, I logged onto Amazon today and my beautifully spangly converse have doubled in price, from £25 to £50! Boy, do I feel smug now.

Anyway, back to first class. It was like heaven. Slightly worn out heaven, but still, I recognised the signs of Elysium right away. First – the seats were larger, more cushioned and shaped to hold you lightly in their palms. Second – the space to chair ration was vastly different to that of the normal carriage. There are ten first class seats in the space of about a third of the carriage, which probably holds about twenty seats. Third and definitely, absolutely, the most important – there was no-one else in there. For the entire journey. Well, the conductor came to check my ticket and occasionally sauntered through to get to the little room tacked onto the end of the train, but apart from that – pas des personnes. I highly recommend it. The only thing that would make it better is to have the complimentary drinks trolley. I actually got off the train in a good mood! Un-jostled by fellow commuters and not tutted at for getting up to put my coat on and stretch. In fact, I could have done calisthenetics in the space quite comfortably, if I’d wanted.

Mr Charming and I finally got round to ordering our new bed! The last one has been good to us but it’s time to part company. We’ve had it for about 4 years and it was from the medium priced range at Argos, so it’s amazing that it’s lasted so long, I guess. We went window shopping (bed shopping?) for the bed about a month ago, and saw one we liked. It’s pretty big and about three feet off the floor, which means that you have to step up to get into it. Also, there’s loads of storage underneath, which is good news for us as we need somewhere to put our spare bedding, towels etc. The perils of renting… It’s black framed with gold knobby bits on the headboard and the foot(board?) thing. Apparently we should expect it within a fortnight or so. I’m not holding my breath – we bought it from Harveys and I had the misfortune of stumbling across customer reviews online while I was looking for a picture. There are definitely some positive reviews in there, but they’re dwarfed by the sheer volume of negative ones. Furniture takes months to arrive and when it does it’s damaged and/or the wrong thing. Eep. Still, it’s a bed frame and a mattress – how wrong could they get it?
Of course, getting a new bed means that we also need to get new duvet, pillows and duvet cover set(s). Darn. The only issue about that is that I fancy something other than plain colours and feel like it’s time we got into patterns. Of course, I’m veering towards floral and Mr Charming errs towards geometric. If only we could get geometrically floral, or florally geometric. Update soon…

I’m off to paintball next Saturday. I’ve never been paintballing so my knowledge comes from Ant being blinded by those girls and Spaced. I’m also reliably informed by friends who’ve gone that it is fun because you get to shoot people. Now, I play computer games. However, I tend to gravitate the ones with the puzzle element or the scrolling platformers like Mario and Sonic. I have no wish, no desire, to shoot people – real or otherwise. I think I’ll enjoy it but I also feel like I’m lacking the mandatory killer instinct to get the most out of it. I’m also a bit scared of the bruises. It’s my first day at work next Monday and I don’t think it’ll be a good idea if I turn up battered and bloodied. Oh well – you never know – I might discover my true calling!
Black Ops going deep – will report back when out of enemy lines. Or something like that.

Who am I?

Hello dear reader (s),

This week is my last full week working in Cambridge. My last day is actually Friday the 17^th, but I’m using my half day holiday on that day. It’s Tuesday already! I thought it might be fun/scary to work out how much time I’ve spent on the train from the time I started in July until the time I’ll finish in October.

Here goes…

A grand total of 72 days, which works out at 144 journeys at approximately 1 hour and 18 minutes each way which means I will have spent 187.2 hours on the train. Eep. That doesn’t count the time taken to get to the station and back, which would add another 72 hours on to the total figure. If I assume that it cost me £65 for five days’ travel, altogether I’ve spent (or will have spent) £936. That’s a lot of shoes.

Assuming I have read three books each week, I have read 43 books since July 2^nd.

Enough numbers, it’s starting to creep me out.

Actually, one last number –I asked how much a first class weekly season ticket would be. £104. Ouch. I expected it to be about £90, but to have a two third increase is a bit steep. No wonder they’re always empty. Still, it would probably mean I’d break the £1000 barrier!

My long weekend was lovely – I firmly believe that everyone would be more productive with a three day weekend. In fact, I wouldn’t mind working ten hours a day for the rest of the week if it meant I could have Fridays off all of the time. On the other hand, it may mean that Thursdays become the new Fridays and it’s even harder to come in to work on Mondays. Still, a girl can dream, can’t she?

We definitely didn’t look like this playing badminton on Sunday, but I rediscovered the simple joys of running around a court after a bit of plastic. It was fun and got us out of our pyjamas on a Sunday afternoon, which was nice. The only downside is that I worked some muscles in my bum and upper arms that had forgotten why they were created. Cue lots of stiffness and feeling like an old lady – even now!

We continued our energetic streak to bop down to The Waterfront to see Roots Manuva. Nice juxtaposition. The Waterfront must have been nearly sold out – I haven’t seen it that full for an awfully long time. Still, Rodney was good and I enjoyed the change in pace from normal Sunday evening.

I’m attempting to get a ticket for Noah and the Whale in November – if anyone has a spare or knows where there are some left for sale, feel free to let me know!

I was a model Jane Asher last night. Somehow baking soothes me from whatever mood I’m in – maybe it just re-focuses my attention onto something else, or something. Like when you stub a toe and someone offers to punch you in the face. A distraction tactic. Anyway, I attempted to make muffins that rise and aren’t rubbery. They didn’t rise but they weren’t rubbery – yay! They’re actually really yummy, although you’llhave to excuse me blowing my own trumpet, so to speak. I made the ginger loaf first, where my aim was to make it so that the top didn’t come away from the bottom. I’ve made it three times and each time it tastes nice, but on two occasions the top’s fallen off before I can get it out if the tin. This time I was determined not to end up with a Tupperware box of crumbs, so I lined the tin. Hey presto! That seems to be the secret. Personally I can’t believe it took me so long to think of that.

So the muffins were made second in the same bowl as the ginger loaf, which gave it a bit of a gingery tang. I also mashed up some plain chocolate in lieu of actual chips. They were very flat but nice. Does anyone know how to make ‘em rise? Perhaps I need to put more air in the mixture. I might try peanut putter and chocolate muffins next.

I have a feeling that people may receive baked goods for Christmas this year – so much more personal than a music voucher. I could make them pretty, with bows and sparkle.

After mourning the death of Scrabulous, I have found another addiction.Gossip Girl. I know, I know – I’m way behind the rest of the demographic. I’ve had season one to watch for a while but just haven’t had the time to watch. I got the opportunity on Saturday night, when I caught up with Samantha Who? and Gossip Girl up to and including the dare episode. Then, last night, I watched Victor/Victrola and Seventeen Candles. Hooked! It’s brilliant, like a sassy, young and cool Sex and the City. I actually like the main characters, which is nigh on a first for me. I’m currently a Serena girl but that may change. I also do not have crushes on any of the guys, but again, that may change. Three episodes ago I disliked Chuck Bass intensely – now I think he’s misunderstood.

The episodes I’m watching have French subtitles on them too, which is definitely interesting. I now want to say “bises” and I’m also brushing up on my conjugation skills. Passe Compose? Eat my dust!

Needless to say, I’m looking forward to watching the rest of the episodes. I may even be able to get Mr Charming interested…

Bises!

Ideas above my station

I am going to miss writing about the train when I walk to work. Well, I will miss writing about it but I’m definitely not going to miss getting up at 6.25am, leaving the house at 7 to walk a mile and a half in 25 minutes and then doing the same thing 12 hours later, in reverse. I may even get to see Neighbours! Although since the move to Channel 5, it looks weird. Plus, I don’t recognise anyone in it. I suppose the point is, I could watch it, if I wanted to. More to the point, I can start running again, huzzah. Theoretically I could run now, but I get up as early as I can bear now and I get home so late that I’m absolutely ravenous when I get in the door. Running as well would either mean going on an empty stomach and not having the energy to enjoy it or waiting until I’ve digested a little bit which would mean me having enough time to run, return, shower and go to bed. This does not a happy commuter make. My start date is yet to be confirmed but I assume it’ll be around the last week in October-ish as I finish in Cambridge on the 17^th, which is a Friday.

However, I will still keep up with the writing – I find it really soothing and it’s great to be able to write without it having to be technical or useful or reviewed by the team. It’ll probably have more reviews though!

I got on the train at Norwich this week to find two people fast asleep on the seats. One person was hidden in a hoodie and the other had music on and was middle-aged. It wasn’t even half seven yet so I guess I’d sleep on the train too. I’d also just watched the train come in and everyone get off, so I knew that I was the first person in the carriage getting on at Norwich. Most importantly, the hoodie was in my seat! I exchanged glances with one of the quiet Natives, a guy who gets off at Wymondham and also occupies the same seat each morning. He shrugged. After a bit of deliberation I decided to wake the older gentleman by poking him in the shoulder. It took a couple of tries – he was sound asleep and dreaming, bless him. When he woke up with a bit of a jump I explained that the train was at Norwich, to which he grabbed his stuff, thanked me and got off. Hoodie followed as he’d woken up by then too. It was definitely a fun start to the morning.

I had the chance to employ some of this social responsibility I’m always talking about the other day. I can’t stand the way everyone’s happy to let everyone else wreck our communal spaces because they’re bored/stupid/whatever. In the current climate I’m definitely more careful about what I say to people, but if someone walks into me or drops rubbish, for example – I’ll let them know about it. Anyway, I was on the train at Cambridge and a boy sits in the vacant seat of the pair I’d occupied. He dumped his schoolbag at his feet and took out a card. I admit it. I peeked – it was a birthday card for his dad. He disposed of the rubbish by releasing the table, shoving everything on it and then closing the table on it. I spent the next ten minutes quietly fuming. There are bins between seats and at either end of the carriages on those trains and if there weren’t any – take it home with you! It was a bit of plastic, not anything smelly or heavy. Why should the people who empty the bins on trains and clean up after the rabble have to check every table to make sure some wide-boy hasn’t decided to squeeze their litter in there? I had therefore decided to remind this sixth former about social responsibility and consequences of actions. He got off at Ely and I waited until I knew he was going to leave his rubbish before freeing it from the table, poking him in the back and handing it to him. He took it without grace but he did take it. Score one to the responsible (and perhaps a little busybody-ish) citizen. He may have dropped it off the train, but I hope he didn’t.

I overhead a couple of hilarious phone conversations in the last week. One was from the biggest man I’d ever seen – he was TV fat and I worried about how he was going to fit in the seats, to be honest. It was snug but surprisingly easy, in the end. He got on with an equally proportioned (well, near enough) friend but the train was quite full so they had to sit apart. That didn’t stop them though – they were the loudest Geordies I’ve heard for a long time. That was entertaining in itself, but then his phone went off. The ringtone was a police siren. I kid you not, dear reader. He then proceeded to tell whoever it was that someone or other had no right to take away her money, which sounded interesting except that it wasn’t. He then enlightened the carriage with his knowledge of the local geography, announcing at Attleborough that he was “in Cambridgeshire”. In case you’re as unfamiliar as he certainly was, Attleborough’s firmly in Norfolk. I suppose, to give him some credit I wouldn’t know all of the counties in other parts of the country, but I’d at least have the sense to realise that the train would’ve crossed at least one border after an hour and keep quiet about it.

I was most fortunate to sit in front of an extremely Norfolk young man on the phone to what I can only assume was his beloved on a different journey. I can’t remember the exchange word for word, but it involved him trying to get her to meet him at the train station by employing all manner of tactics. One was emotional blackmail “Don’t meet me, I’ll walk on my own” , while another was threat “Well, I may as well just turn around and go back again”. The best one was when he said he’d get a taxi from the station and then changed his mind almost immediately, going back to his “I’ll walk on my own” effort. The funniest thing was the high pitched shrieking I could hear on the other end which increased in intensity when he started the conversation with “What you so moody for?”. The climax was definitely near the end of the call, when he said “I luv ya Chelsea” with a straighter face than she could have hoped for from me.

I’ve been thinking about treating myself again. Ooh, the cons have arrived but they’re waiting at the sorting office, boo. Mr Charming hasn’t collected them yet (it’s Mr Charming because I am as yet unqualified to drive) as the books haven’t arrived yet either and I couldn’t stomach two trips to the sorting office in a week. I hate that place. The staff seem hand-picked to be the rudest , most unconcerned employees they could hope for. I’ve had to endure numerous conversations about their weekend while they wander about looking half-heartedly for my parcel/free lightbulbs/under stamped letter and three thousand others wait behind me. They always ask for id when you could give them a train ticket and they wouldn’t care and they don’t accept debit or credit card. Who doesn’t accept card? It’s no wonder Royal Mail are in trouble. There’s a crappy hand written sign in black marker which states “Credit or debit cards are not accepted” in capital letters. The sight of that sign makes my blood boil.

I digress. I think I may treat myself to a week’s long season ticket in First Class for my last week. The seats in there are easily double the width of standard, twice as comfy and even better – there’s never anyone in there! It all depends on how much it is, obviously. I would estimate a 50% increase in the standard ticket which would make it about £95. Hmm, that’s quite steep. It would be fun though.

I read my second Philippa Gregory last week: The Other Boleyn Girl. I don’t like her writing style at all. I struggled through the monotony of the first hundred pages and managed to actually get to the end in a decent amount of time, but really I only finished it because I like the costumes. The characters are badly written and if I ever see “gleam” attached to people again I’ll kill someone. Their voices were indistinct and I had a hard time telling who was speaking, especially in scenes with the Boleyn family meetings. I found the ‘history’ aspect interesting, but I think I’d be much better off reading the actual history books referenced at the back. Or wikipedia. I remember people raving about all of the Philippa Gregory books and about how great they are. To me they’re bodice rippers with a tinge of history, which elevates their status slightly. I suppose the same could be said for Harry Potter, which is just The Worst Witch re-worked for modern audiences. That’s not to mention the countless other ‘nods’ Ms Rowling included from Diana Wynne Jones to Ursula LeGuin to Tolkien himself. While we’re on the subject, does anyone else ever feel like not jumping on the bandwagon? As if Ricky Gervais was actually marching down Oxford Street naked, and everyone stands and applauds? I’ll never understand the fawning over that man’s stand up. The Office and Extras I can go some way to appreciating, but that’s for everyone else and nothing to do with Gervais.

Anyway, enough celeb bashing. I hope to read some of my new books soon, the aforementioned Middlesex is high up there, along with New Moon and Twilight Watch. Huzzah. I should make more of an effort to look like I’m working, I think.