Tell us something really trivial about your life (Vol 27)
Discussion
Good points for today - my first ever live HPLC test passed with flying colours (anyone at all familiar with liquid chromatography machines will know how easily they go tits-up). And I have a day off work tomorrow! And the Range Rover is back from the garage having had the cracked cat welded up, so is now totally silent and wraith-like again instead of making embarrassing put-putting noises 
Bad points - tomorrow's day off will be filled by manning a (re)fresher's fair stand for my karting society trying desperately to attract new punters.
Oh, and on the way home tonight I approached a junction as usual that is part of my route, where the road is 2 lanes into the junction, and 2 lanes away from it but coned down to one after 100 metres. I did my usual trick of going in the empty to-be-coned lane at the lights whilst all the other sheeple formed a long queue in the clear-ahead lane, then out-accelerating and safely merging in front of the queue away from the lights. So enraged by this impudent display of independent thinking was the Insignia driver I merged ahead of that he proceeded to close up to literally 1 foot away from my back bumper for half a mile, swerving in and out of an overtaking position despite the aforementioned coning-off of the right hand lane. Given that I was in the little 500 at the time due to the aforementioned RR repairs, it was rather unpleasantly intimidating
Bad points - tomorrow's day off will be filled by manning a (re)fresher's fair stand for my karting society trying desperately to attract new punters.
Oh, and on the way home tonight I approached a junction as usual that is part of my route, where the road is 2 lanes into the junction, and 2 lanes away from it but coned down to one after 100 metres. I did my usual trick of going in the empty to-be-coned lane at the lights whilst all the other sheeple formed a long queue in the clear-ahead lane, then out-accelerating and safely merging in front of the queue away from the lights. So enraged by this impudent display of independent thinking was the Insignia driver I merged ahead of that he proceeded to close up to literally 1 foot away from my back bumper for half a mile, swerving in and out of an overtaking position despite the aforementioned coning-off of the right hand lane. Given that I was in the little 500 at the time due to the aforementioned RR repairs, it was rather unpleasantly intimidating
Daughter is down here tomorrow for about ten days. In preparation I've whizzed over to Tesco to restock my cupboards. It was moderately busy in there so I manoeuvred my full trolley to the end of the shortest queue to pay. The mum at the front was just leaving and the cashier announced she had saved £7.27 on her bill due to the current price match thingy going on. The bloke immediately before me apparently saved a bit more at eight pounds something on his conveyor belt of goodies.
My shopping got beeped through and as the woman printed off the receipt I wait to hear of my money saved as this was a biggie of a shopping trip - so it should be good.
58p.
My shopping got beeped through and as the woman printed off the receipt I wait to hear of my money saved as this was a biggie of a shopping trip - so it should be good.
58p.
I'm in Copenhagen at the moment. Everything is expensive. Breathing is currently taxes at 55% vo2 max.
Shallow breathing until friday. One consolation, Danish pastries in Denmark are good. Real good. As is the bread. Real bread. Bread with flavour and bite. Something no British baker, no matter how ponsey and artisan, knows how to make. Oh, and the beer is cheaper than water. Seriously.
Shallow breathing until friday. One consolation, Danish pastries in Denmark are good. Real good. As is the bread. Real bread. Bread with flavour and bite. Something no British baker, no matter how ponsey and artisan, knows how to make. Oh, and the beer is cheaper than water. Seriously.
But the procedure is always different. It's so frustrating. You try, don't you? I got on a bus yesterday on the outskirts of Birmingham sure in the knowledge that I didn't need their equivalent of an Oyster Card and clutching a five pound note I felt sure the system could cope with.
"The Bullring, please."
"Where?"
"The Bullring."
"Do you mean, Birmingham?"
"Yes."
"Then you just say, "Birmingham." You don't even have to say anything. All the tickets are £2.30."
I proffered my five pound note.
"I don't give change..." he said wearily, leaving a silent, "You tosser," hanging in the air.
"Are the buses into the city fairly regular?"
"Every twenty minutes."
"I'll go and get some change."
In the convenience store behind the bus stop a lengthy discussion was going on between the owner, an elderly Indian, and a Chinese student.
"You have to give your address."
"Yes."
"What is your address?"
"Yes."
"No. You have to give me your address."
"Yes."
Glancing outside over the displays, boxes and notices in the window I saw the bus was waiting for me. Stress? You have no idea. I really wasn't expecting the miserable git to wait for me.
I waved my KitKat at proprietor.
"Let me take that. He doesn't understand."
"I can tell."
With my change, I raced back to the door.
"What is your address?"
"Yes."
I needn't have worried. It was the bus stop that was waiting for me. It was one of those glazed shelters that in times of stress can look a bit like a bus.
"The Bullring, please."
"Where?"
"The Bullring."
"Do you mean, Birmingham?"
"Yes."
"Then you just say, "Birmingham." You don't even have to say anything. All the tickets are £2.30."
I proffered my five pound note.
"I don't give change..." he said wearily, leaving a silent, "You tosser," hanging in the air.
"Are the buses into the city fairly regular?"
"Every twenty minutes."
"I'll go and get some change."
In the convenience store behind the bus stop a lengthy discussion was going on between the owner, an elderly Indian, and a Chinese student.
"You have to give your address."
"Yes."
"What is your address?"
"Yes."
"No. You have to give me your address."
"Yes."
Glancing outside over the displays, boxes and notices in the window I saw the bus was waiting for me. Stress? You have no idea. I really wasn't expecting the miserable git to wait for me.
I waved my KitKat at proprietor.
"Let me take that. He doesn't understand."
"I can tell."
With my change, I raced back to the door.
"What is your address?"
"Yes."
I needn't have worried. It was the bus stop that was waiting for me. It was one of those glazed shelters that in times of stress can look a bit like a bus.
Gassing Station | The Lounge | Top of Page | What's New | My Stuff