Sunday, 27 May 2018

Trains, Planes and Automobiles

Well, the first one anyway, planes aren't a huge part of my life. Yesterday I went for a day trip to the coast and to enable myself to be able to catch the relevant train I had to travel across London. At weekends they often run 4 carriage, half size trains and as you can imagine, they can get crowded. Anyway, there I am, minding my own business, sat on a set of 6 seats, facing the way of travel and the train stops at a major travel hub. Quite a crowd of people get on and despite there being loads of other free seats, a couple wish to sit right next to me. Yep. I huffed and puffed a bit - the woman was frigging annoying - all middle class braying voice and flicking her long bleached hair about. After putting up with about five minutes of this, I plonked myself on the backwards facing window seat, thus having a free space between myself and another passenger who was located in the aisle seat.

The rest of the journey was fine; I managed to score well on my Tetris game. Mind you, later on, whilst on a mini train, a noisy group of people with profound learning disabilities got on the same carriage. I honestly felt that my ears would explode and truly believe that not all disabled people can understand others with different conditions.

Sunday, 14 January 2018

Post #132 - The Times They Are A Changin'

Yep. They sure are. Yesterday I went to London to meet an old friend/former colleague and we walked from London Victoria Station to The Civil Service Club, via some of the buildings we'd both worked in and my word - it's like a celebration of glass, which is rather odd to say the least.  Pictured below is the former site of New Scotland Yard, which I worked in from the mid-late 1990s.  At least it now affords a splendid view of the Art Deco beauty of 55 Broadway, Transport For London's HQ building. 

As we walked parallel to the beauty of St James's Park, we traversed the building where I'd been the most miserable.  I even wanted to show him the corner where I used to stand, cry and telephone my husband from.  As much as I appreciated my friend's intelligence, by the end of the evening I felt as though I was being lectured.  I'm not a stupid person by any means and in the UK, surely it's rude to be too intellectual?  Me?  I wanted to talk about this series of Celebrity Big Brother

Last night I dreamt that I was back in my most hated Government Department and my gawd awful boss was forcing me to accept a state of affairs I wholeheartedly disliked.  Luckily it wasn't real.  Today was great though - we were fundraising in our local branch of Sainsbury's and I had some great conversations with both charity colleagues and kind members of the public.  Stuff the past, this is my life now and I'm very happy that it is so.

Friday, 29 December 2017

Post #131 - That Bit Between Christmas And New Year

Yep, it's that time again.  Also, it's my 131st post and that particular number reminds me of the #131 bus route which runs between Kingston and Wimbledon (oooh, bus fact ...)

Christmas was quiet this year, mainly because we've all come down with terrible colds and in The Bobster's case, an annoying hacking cough, which I know that he cannot help, but I am an an irascible aspie at the best of times.  This was our second festive season as a threesome (minus the cats!) as after the social discomfort* of Christmas 2015, we no longer host anyone else; why should we?  My brother always works over this period, raking it in with his overtime payments.  Put it like this - we've had years of stress and it's taken its toll and just because I'm female, why the hell should I be responsible for hosting family events every bloody year?  Not me, that's for sure. 


*I guess that this is public forum, so I shouldn't got into too much detail, but rest assured my mother's tearful ranting at my husband regarding my brother's inability to read an email containing the details of a list of suggested gifts for his nephew didn't go down well.

Friday, 15 December 2017

Post #130 - The Next Door Neighbours' Christmas Drinks

"Tonight's The Night" as Rod Stewart once sang. Well, as I am not much of a social butterfly these days, but I do make a concerted effort to go out and meet other people. Every year, on a Friday, our delightful octogenarian next-door-neighbours host a 'mince pie and sherry evening.' I tend to spend the first forty-five minutes or so in their front room, sipping a glass of wine and watching the room slowly fill up with a mix of the current and former residents of our road.

After that, it becomes more uncomfortable; there's always a whole load of fannying around regarding seating and the voices begin to rise in both loudness and pitch. I often have to stifle a laugh when the conversation turns to subjects such as these:

"Did you hear about poor old Mabel?"
"Oh yes, well, me and Wilf listened to the screaming through the party wall."
"It went on and on didn't it? You would have thought that the Four Horsemen of The Apocalypse had just turned up in a Transit Van!"
"Still, it was a merciful end after all of those years spent wracked with pain."
"And a lovely send off too - beautiful hymns and Mrs Garrity's seed cake was a rare treat."


Actually, I didn't go - citing that my cold was too bad and I was concerned about my elderly neighbour being exposed to viruses as she's in treatment for leukemia.  According to The Bobster the whole do was ruined by the continual boasting of the opinionated female member of the former neighbours who now live in a better postcode (actually, it isn't - it's a newish estate located in an area which used to feature a former mental institution - so stick that in your pipe and smoke it!)

Saturday, 25 November 2017

Post #129 - The City Lit

Now, if you know me then you'll be aware that I am one for self-improvement. I attended a one-day 'A Taste Of Journalism' Course today at The City Lit, which is an extra mural-type seat of learning institution based in Covent Garden, central London. It was hard work, but I think that I got quite a lot out of it. I am aware that I don't really feel comfortable about going up to people and interviewing them though. That's probably why I didn't choose journalism as a career when I was 18.

That said, I love to write and plan to continue for as long as my fingers remain supple. I am a legend in my own lunchtime.

Tuesday, 21 November 2017

Post #128 - Four Years On ... A Lift In The Gloom

Next month will mark four years since that eureka moment and I finally realised that I am autistic.  So much has happened during this time and I think that, finally, I am coming to terms with it all.  Recently I seem to have emerged from a fug of gloom and even reduced my Fluoxitine daily intake (an SSRI anti-depressant medication) from 30mg down to 20mg and I hope to be able to decrease it further down to 10mg during the next few months.

I'm not really sure what has happened in my brain recently, but it feels so much lighter and I'm more cheerful as a result.  Usually once the clocks go back in late October I am depressed as hell and used to think that it was related to the lack of sunlight or Seasonal Affected Disorder (SAD), this may still be so, but I really couldn't say.  I am also looking forward to Christmas(!) which is bizarre.  Bring on Macca singing Wonderful Christmastime I say.  In the video he's seen, with the other remaining members of Wings (namely Linda McCartney and Denny Laine) buying drinks in a festively-decorated Sussex public house.  Nice.

I am always grateful for supportive friends; a chosen few have stuck by me during the 'wilderness years'.  I cannot really say that I have a great deal of time for most people, but there are some truly wonderful people out there.

Thursday, 16 November 2017

Post #127 - The Curse Of The Ten-year-Old Liar

My son Ted has morphed into a compulsive liar over the last six months or so. His cheeky insolence and sarcasm is also grating on me as well as his father, Bob. Two weeks ago there was a bit of a disturbing incident in the kitchen which led to a raft of shouting and tears.  This afternoon I found him reading Bob's WhatsApp messages on the latter's smartphone.

About 10pm tonight I decided to have a shower and get into bed to read Peter Davison's autobiography (which is excellent by the way ...) I placed my phone on the bedside cabinet and popped next door to the bathroom. Ted interrupted my ablutions by knocking on the door pretending to be his teddy bear, Samuel (don't ask ...) when I emerged, wrapped in a towel, I found that my phone was gone. After the whole palaver of Bob ringing the phone (unfortunately it was on vibrate only ) it was found under the (dusty!) bed. Ted then admitted to hiding it there.

I despair, I really do.