» Pet Peeves

some form of peeve...
This isn't really a peeve more than a sigh of sadness I guess...

I had a truly wonderful day. This morning, I was a slightly nervous student, leaving Reading for Grantham, at precisely 11.11 from Reading station, arriving at Paddington, traveling on the tube to Kings cross, and then up onwards to Grantham. Easy ye all think! Why, I am student now! They are suave, clever, know it alls, trendy creatures who would think nothing of the tube, and practically hump it for its "London-ness"! They listen to nu-rave, like Lily Allen and pret a manger!*

But no. I was nervous 'cause I've never really travelled the tube. Quite literally, I am the polite darling your mother would love, who knows the names of flowers and birds, likes drawing and baking and Terry Pratchett (ok, maybe not SO innocent); and possibly floating around singing poetry akin to Magrat from Weird Sisters.** Going through London, was akin to going through some sort of hell for me; busy impatient people, who couldn't care less about anything, only caring on getting to their own destination and glaring at you if your little purple wheely suitcase keeps on getting stuck everywhere: on a side note seriously damn those things. They hate me. AND I had a MASSIVE bag of books for revision weighing me down like a ton of bricks.

But NO! Today was not to be filled with slight terror, and guilt for obstructing people with my tiny purple wheelies of doom! For on boarding the train at Reading my seat was next to a business man. The nicest bloke possibly on that train. We got talking, "where are you headed today, what do you do etc", and after some conversation where it turned out he was a big cheese for Philips, we discovered we were both changing to the same train; him getting off at Stevenage, I Grantham. So, to cut it short, he was like some kind of train/London-based mentor. Having this friendly bloke to chat to*** and give me a hand with my bags was a truely chivalric and astonishing thing. And wonderful, I made a friend essentially, in a place I'd have never expected. I've emailed him tonight to thank him, (he gave me his business card, get in!) and received a reply and an offer of help from Philips essentially.

And I suppose this brings me to the peeve, I'm not very good at phrasing myself, but this is the kind of thing that needs to go on more often. More help, more kindnesses, friendly interest and a cheerful chat about what you're up to. And we have lost this. In a world where the youth can mug you, men are all perverts, everyone is planning to run off with you/your children/your dog and rape you/her/him/it, it's disappeared. I learnt stuff today, from a man on a train.

Just something I wanted to share, all the replies seemed so... well, ranty and I'm currently in a wonderful mood from having a great journey. Not that I don't rant, people who don't introduce people to mates...grrrr...

Apologies for length and soppyness, and possibly boredom if you made it this far, I've not done this before so,

POP

yippeee!



*May well be ripped from The Mighty Boosh
**I also enjoy rough sex, but maybe at another time.
*** Ok, I'm making him sound like he had other intentions, but he was late 40s with family. And welsh.
(Fri 2nd May 2008, 23:58, More)

» Dad stories

as a resonably well endowed lady
when I buy bras which are made of a less floppy fabric than lace or the like (t shirt bras I think they're called), they have a tendency to stand up on their own when on a flat surface.

I was tarting about getting ready for a night out whilst annoying my dad by doing the traditional woman thing of asking 'does this look good?', moaning about any criticism and wearing it anyway, when he popped into my bedroom to ask me some question.

He happened to notice one of the said bras flung upon the floor, and proceeded to point at it, then exclaim

'ooh look! hats!'

made me SNOT myself with laughter.

I love him. even though he plays Dido loudly whilst clearing up the kitchen.
(Tue 30th Nov 2010, 20:40, More)