Sunday, 11 July 2010

Spare A Thought

This morning I woke feeling distressed. It may just have been because it was so darn hot last night and my mouth was glued together with dehydration and I'd been haunted by repetitive dreams about not being where I need to be at the correct time and I was a little bit hungover. But I think it was really down to the fact that the only thought rushing through my mind was that everybody always forgets about chicken breasts. I felt terrible.

So I decided to declare this Sunday the day of BREAST. It's not really going to be so much different to any other Sunday, other than the extra 'B(ee)' I've tagged onto the ol' day of REST saying. You geddit? I don't.

I've been wondering lately if maybe I should give vegetarianism another go. But then I decided that it's probably okay to eat things like beef and pork, just as long as the meat isn't coming from baby animals, because big animals have had their time, right? They've seen the sunrise, they've felt the rain spatter on their thick skin, they've endured the sting of a wasp on the end of their milk-sweetened teat. Plus I was reading an article about the lambing season and nearly started to cry for all those bleating balls of delight I've eaten in the past. Verdict: I'm giving up lamb.

Other than this, peanut butter is rocking my world once again. Is there really anything finer than sleeping late on the weekend before rolling into the kitchen to indulge in a slice of toast smeared with that crunchy delight? I really do not believe there is.

*exit stage trapdoor*

Wednesday, 7 July 2010

And Now For Something a Little Offensive

I was bound for London again this weekend for general hand-holding frivolity with Best Beloved. Two weeks in a row! Much as my ailing bank account doesn't appreciate the needlessly extortionate rates I'm faced with while I'm hulled up in our nation's capital, my little Bee heart surely does appreciate the respite from the gripping state of loneliness it is otherwise faced with, so all is well.

On Friday I trundled out of work a faithful packhorse with my too-many-bags-for-two-and-a-half-days, off to the station, hurrying to catch the earlier train. OH NO! I'd forgotten to refill my water before I left work! Usually in this eventuality I would have beaten myself up for hours on end for landing myself drinkless in a situation that would surely call for a drink, literally punching the crap out of my weary body. What a mess. But not today, Zurg!

The sun was shining, I'd made it in time to get the earlier train, I was battling the urge to drop dead from the pressures of heat and exhaustion, so what the hell, I figured I'd just buy a drink from the trolley. As you may have guessed, it was a disappointing excursion.

ONE POUND AND SIXTY PENCE was pillaged from my unwilling purse for a cup of hot, not boiling water and a hard teabag. I don't particularly like strong tea; in fact I despise it and the furry orange tongue that manifests as a result of drinking it, but I do like a small amount of squeezability (what a fucking horrible word) in my teabag. And when I ask for "several" milks, I expect to be given more than THREE. Three?! What kind of number is that when it comes to milk portions? Oh yes, that's right, it's exactly the amount of milk portions you'd give out with a cup of tea and it's about five fewer milk portions than you ought to give someone who has just asked for SEVERAL MILKS. Three is not even nearly enough! And what I found even more insulting was the fact that he also gave me THREE sugars after I'd clearly said, "No sugars but several milks, please."

This is just not cricket, East Coast trains!

And you know what else has been irritating me lately? Public toilets. Or, rather, using public toilets while there are other people in them. And more specifically when there's no other background noise and only one other woman in there so you can hear every tiny movement she makes. Especially if she's overweight. In my experience, using a public toilet at the same time as a bigger woman is wholly off putting and, frankly just unpleasant.

Get a grip, larger ladies! When it's an effort to wipe then it's time to think about detox! If Oprah can do it, so can you! I'm rooting for you :/