I was sat around not doing much last night, when I suddenly thought: “Oh no! It’s the parents’ silver wedding anniversary tomorrow!” I have never been able to remember when their wedding anniversary is. Never, ever. Even the times I’ve remembered to buy a card, I’ve forgotten to write it or post it or something. But I thought I really should remember this year, because it’s the silver anniversary and everything.
So, in a big panic (this morning), I rushed out to a nice card shop and bought a nice card. I phoned them too, because I thought I’d better say “Congratulations!” and all that. “No, it’s not today,” quoth The Mother. “I’ts Thursday.” Bah! At least I will remember it this year, after all.
Keyword noise: The Mother.
Was in the pub last night—well, afternoon really. We were having a quiet drink, when a mad drunk bloke suddenly attaches himself to us. And he won’t shut up. Or go away. Neither of us are brave enough to tell him to piss off, so we just sit there whilst he rambles on about his life, his likes and dislikes, and ogles every girl that walks past.
Fortunately, we were in luck: a couple we knew wandered past and lured him away, giving us a chance to nip out and run to another bar a long, long way away. We really didn’t want there to be any chance of him bumping into us again.
I wish I was better at dealing with guys like that. All I could do was sit and smile and say “uhuh” and “ah, yes” every so often, trying very hard not to giggle. I must have said about ten words in total, whilst he went on and on about how great it was when he worked on the railway, his skill with a shunting pole, how he hates “arseholes” and likes girls with large breasts. Here was him going: “She was a double-G cup, and a dirty girl too” and I was just sat there going “uhuh? Oh really? I see” and so on; thinking OHMIGOD GET ME OUT OF HERE.
More people-watching: in the second bar we went to, there was a very cute-looking couple stood by the bar. He was tall, dark, seventies-style shoulder-length wavy hair, beard and moustache; the beard only covering the parts under the chin. His outfit would have shouted “funeral clothes” on anyone else—black suit, white shirt, black tie—but it just went with his face and hair so nicely, it just made him look smart and in-touch. His girl was dark-haired and dark-clothed, came up to just about his shoulder, and lent her head against him.
Keyword noise: Glasgow, Scotland, people.
I’ve not been getting much sleep lately, so I’ve been wanting to nap every afternoon. it’s the cat’s fault. The other night, he woke me at 4am to come inside, then at 5am to go out, then at 6am to—well, you get the idea.
In between, I had an odd dream that the neighbours across the green had lots of cats that looked just like him, and they all kept coming and going between their house and mine, so I couldn’t tell which one he was.
Keyword noise: The Cat, insomnia.
I love to watch people when I’m going about. I try not to be noticed, in case they think: “eek! mad stary person!”
Yesterday’s example: a bored-looking girl on a train. She kept looking out of the window, although the window pillar was in the way. I wondered at first if she was looking at other people, too, by their reflections. She was sat in the window seat, and would occasionally look across the carriage to the opposite windows. It was getting dark, so there wasn’t much to see.
Short, dark hair, with a spot on her chin. I liked her outfit: black trousers, black lacy top, black suede jacket; red skirt and cute red trainers. When she got up she moved nervously, trying hard not to touch people as she stepped over feet.
Keyword noise: people.
I was out walking this afternoon, and I saw a man out walking a ferret, on a lead. Twice. I think it’s a sign of the impending apocalypse.
Keyword noise: Edinburgh, pets, ferrets.
In bed last night, and starting to drift off to sleep. Today In Parliament is on the radio, because it’s so boring it helps me sleep faster. Suddenly: bleep. “Grrr,” I thought, “I’ve forgotten to switch my phone off.” I stumbled out of bed, found it, and looked at the screen.
What’s ure address? i want 2 invite u2 my wedding
“Ungh?” I thought. I was too sleepy to think coherently. “Urgh? Mrghe? Fjfeww? I don’t know anyone getting married.”
Of course, I woke up suddenly two hours later remembering that I did. And she’s getting married. In Paris. And she’s the same age as I am. This is all very scary.
It means I have an excuse for a holiday, though.
Keyword noise: Paris, weddings.
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