Honey I shrunk the jumper

Hand wash only. 3 little words that spark 4 letter outbursts.

I don’t like shopping much. I get in and get out, dodging teenagers trying on hats and asking my myself  why the shop  hasn’t got round to either installing air con for the summer, or turning down the furnace-like heaters in winter.

So, it makes it all the more irritating when I’ve battled through the pain, have worn the new item and then decided to wash it. I toss it in the machine, add powder and press start. Simple. Then when the cycle has ended, to my instant annoyance, I realise that my brand new jumper/shirt/anything has shrunk down to a small child’s size. I kid myself for a couple of seconds... “I can stretch it out” I say, “it’ll be ok”. I hang it next to a trusted old shirt that will accompany the new garment. They’re clearly never going to fit together. Cue a four letter outburst and much irritation.

Quite clearly, the thing that has riled me the most is that this is totally 100% my mistake. The label clearly says ‘Hand wash only’ and it has happened to me many times before. There’s one thing I hate more than incompetence, and that’s my incompetence.  So I ignore it and swear heartedly at the machine for not treating the garment with more care, at the manufacturers for making an item unsuitable for the modern world and finally at the shop for selling it to a clearly incompetent man.  I tell you what though, If I ever have a 10 year old son, he will be the best dressed kid at school. 

Very annoying post

I make no apologies, this is a very, very small problem and one that probably won’t elicit any kind of empathy, but I don’t have a key to my mailbox at my flat. Phew, it feels good to get that off my chest.

 I get hardly any post, even the bank emails statements now, so in total the flat receives no more than 3 letters per week. But it’s really irritating. Because I rent and our landlord has no interest in the flat, I can’t easily open the mailbox to get my post (or break it and get a new one). It seems such a small problem and one that would have an easy solution. But it doesn’t. We can’t get the key.

I can imagine you all (3 of you) reading this post thinking “so how do you get your post?”. Well, I’m pleased you’ve asked.

Whereas some of you will have you post on the door mat when you come in and others will slip a little key into a box and open it, I have developed a new method involving a chair and 2 spatulas. Here’s how I get my post: (see diagram)

1. Peer into the top of the box through the “post in” slot and see post
2. Try to put hand through “annoyingly small gap”
3. Get irritated that my hand is too large for the annoying small gap (as it is every time)
4. Stare angrily at the “redundant lock”
5. Trudge upstairs, annoyed
6. Come back down stairs with a chair and 2 spatulas
7. Stand on chair
8. Poke spatulas into the “post in” slot and try to press them together around the post and lever it upwards. Basically, it’s like trying to use chopsticks to lift a steak up in a bean can. Don’t ask why a steak would be in bean can, I don’t have an answer for that.
9. Ignore the stares from curious onlookers and dab sweat from brow
10. Repeat steps 8 and 9 several times, sweating more and turning a worrying shade of red
11. Prize post out of mailbox, feel hugely heroic until salty sweat trickles onto eyeball, reverting me back to a state of anger

So there you have it. That’s how I get my post. Please don’t send me anything.

It is broken and we should fix it... Just do it faster

2025. A long way in the future. If we’re to believe Hollywood (and who am I to doubt them?!), we’ll have run out of oil, live in caves/old caravans/in forest/under water, use hover-boards and there could well be aliens among us, if they aren’t already that is.

So, I think you’ll agree, a lot will happen in that time. Well, I’m sorry to tell you Mr Spielberg, but here in the UK things take a lot longer to change than you imagine. The thing causing me most annoyance today is the amount of time it takes to build anything over here. The biggest example of this I can think of right now is the redevelopment of Elephant and Castle (E&C) in South London 

E&C is a shithole. It’s horrible. There are many examples of the post war concrete monstrosities across the UK and Europe but E&C stands out to me. Here a whole area is characterised by crowded roads, concrete skyscrapers, a hideous shopping centre and underground tunnels that are piss stained and beggar-filled. Basically it needs changing, which thankfully is happening. A big step has been taken to transform a sink-estate into a progressive, modern, safe and aspirational community.

Why am I grumpy then? Well because by latest reckoning it won’t be finished until 2025. That’s 15 years away. By then, a whole new generation will have passed through this festering pit of filth and squalor. Many more dreams and hopes will have been reduced to disappointment and under-achievement. Why? This has been discussed for the past decade, and while it needs to be carefully considered to ensure that it won’t fall victim of the same past problems, a further 15 years is too long.  If we’re going to get out of this economic mess we’re in, we need to act well and act decisively, not spend 15 years re-building, otherwise we'll never be able to afford those hover-boards

A grumpy life part 2

I arrive at work sweating a little and with a mild feeling of anger. Nothing out of the ordinary there. I get to my desk, notice that the cleaners haven’t swept the dust off my desk again. I move an old pack of post it notes and see underneath what colour the desk used to be. I put them back again and go to make a coffee. Idle chit chat passes the time as the early morning coffee round queue dwindles. Looks like everyone is “OK thanks” or, “yeah OK, X days until the weekend”. I offer no alternative but wonder to myself what kind of comment I could slip in under the radar and get away with it.

Work progresses nicely as the email inbox fills up with requests for stats, info, insights and costs. People come and go, the occasional call is answered and lunch arrives. What to get today? A boring choice of local sandwich shops that are either too expensive, don’t give enough fillings or put you in danger of spending a week on the toilet. The pub shines out like a beautiful beacon of hope and joy but at £3.70 a pint won’t be as much fun as you’d hope. Plus they’ve probably decided to sell Thai food now. Settle for sandwich, get disappointed, even adding salt and vinegar crisps doesn’t jazz it up. Check my personal email. Nothing there. Not even spam.

Continue with work. All passes successfully and head home, this time by bus to avoid a face-in-armpit situation. 5 mins down the road it starts to rain. Umbrella is at my desk and I decide I’m too close to the bus stop to turn around. Crowd into the bus shelter and huddle with fellow commuters either smoking, shouting on the phone or listening to music on loudspeaker.  The bus arrives, and quickly departs. It’s ‘too full’,  but I’m certain I saw a space in between the tourist, their suitcase and the baby’s pushchair complete with screaming child. Everyone agrees the driver’s an idiot and we shouldn’t have to pay for service like this.

Make it home, realise the evening is running through my fingers so I get changed and decide I’ll do something different tonight. Life’s too short and the clock is ticking. I put on the telly while I think of what to do. Les Dennis is offering to give the contestant the money himself. The answer’s not there. Les’s cheque book is safe this time! I see what’s on next, Bullseye!  Oh well, life’s not so bad after all, I’ll do something new tomorrow.

A grumpy life part 1

Getting old. Christ, I'm getting old. I'm now 27 (older than my
blogger name, I know) and I find myself hating things more than before.

I'm at home now thinking about where I live, how I live and wondering how we let ourselves live like this.

Over the next couple of post I'll explain how a typical day goes, Here's the morning:

I wake up, watch terrible sickly sweet 'news' with a horribly smiley Scottish lady telling me what the weather is like. I get in the shower and feel mildly content. It's warm, I'm clean and the whole day is ahead of me. There is nothing that can hold me back.

Then I get dressed. It's wonderful. My beautiful girlfriend is there. How does she put up with me? She leaves before she questions it herself. Thank god. I don't believe in him but I'll thank him anyway.

Then off to work. I pass a woman having a Dr Pepper and a fag, a traffic warden offering misery to all and walk behind 3 smokers all issuing me with their individual piece of cancerous smoke. I've not touched on the school kids eating shite, drinking filth and bullying the nice kids...They'll never change.

I walk into the tube station. Touch in. Stand by the lift. Wait in line. People are congregating by the door. They have to get to in there first. God forbid that they have to get in near the back. The World will crumble if that happens.

We're at the height of summer and people are still taking coats down there. They're not happy, it was cloudy outside and they've come prepared for rain. They feel foolish. They are fools. But we have to suffer their elbows, their panic and their impatience as they force their way on to a crowded carriage. They're important. They matter. The train following in 2 minutes is not good enough. This is the train that matters.

The train painfully makes its way to the station and people pour off and stand in line as we rise to the surface. Bad breath, more sweat and panicked tourists ensure that the rushed start to the day continues. At last the sunlight emerges and I begin to relax. 5 minutes of solitude lay ahead. Shit, no they don't. There's a Sport magazine forced into my hand. Michael Owen is having another comeback! I can't wait...

More to come soon...

Hold the Headline

Does anyone else find it incredibly irritating that we’re constantly fed uninteresting/unimportant American news in our TV bulletins, online and radio?

Take last week for example. Bill Clinton had to make a trip to hospital as he’s got a bit of a dodgy ticker (too much weed, cigars and ‘sexual relations’ I reckon). This made it into a fairly prominent position on the BBC website and was one of the leading stories on the telly. Bill Clinton was an excellent President. He helped push through the Northern Ireland peace process, lowered unemployment in the states and brought about unity in the international community. However, he was US President. He had no (direct) control over the UK. No British person cast a vote for him and he certainly hasn’t lived here since being President.

Why then, does this displace UK or European news from the headlines? Had he been involved in a kidnap plot, actually died or maybe had another affair then it might be worth hearing about. What next, is George W having a pedicure going to be the lead story on News at 10?

Our news should cover stories that matter to us. I’m sure that day a pensioner was mugged in the street, or a child was hit by a car. That is unpleasant news but it matters. We need to know that these things happen so that we can lobby for better policing or ensure that people have respect for older people. I couldn’t care less if Bill has a dodgy heart. It’s obviously a concern for his family or any women that happens to find themselves beneath him, but it doesn’t affect my daily life. If there is a mugging in my local area, or somewhere else in the country, then I’ll be more aware and can look out for similar things happening. It’s got to the point where we were being told about record snow on the East coast of America. IT DOESN’T MATTER TO US!!!!!!!! We’re in the UK!!! Tell me about something important.

What makes this worse is that there is rarely any information about anywhere beyond the States or our immediate European cousins. When there is a flood in Bangladesh we hear about it for 5 minutes on one day and then it’s forgotten. If there’s a fire in tower block in Kenya we don’t hear about it at all. Sure, the news from the States might be very easy to get hold of as the TV networks are more developed, but one of the roles of the BBC is to bring the UK news from the whole world. That’s why millions of pounds of licence fee money is spent on sending correspondents to all corners of the globe.

Reporting of banal news only helps to build the general malaise in UK society.

In the UK, and London in particular people have no respect for their local environment. People throw rubbish on the ground, spit in public and let their dogs shit wherever they like without cleaning it up. We need to be energised about local issues, know what the problems are and take appropriate action. Of course, there are local news bulletins and pages on websites but they’re generally poor quality and a lot of the news reporters take the word ‘lightweight’ to a new floatier level.

To summarise I want the following:

1. UK news to be given greater prominence across UK news organisations
2. Local matters to be made more important
3. ‘World News’ to truly be global, not just USA