April 7th, 2010



Today I had a mentalist bus driver, who seemed unfamiliar with the route, shooting past stops, etc. and had a penchant for parking about 18 inches from the kerb.

I had to wait for over half an hour to post a feckin' packet and buy some stamps in our last remaining local post office.

Then I bumbled straight into the usual volley of weightist, androgyny-hating abuse that I tend to encounter outdoors, but hey, not right after the post office, lads...

On the way out of LIDL, though,  a sweet looking little old lady smiled at me...and said  'Ohhh, hope you left some for me, dear.'  *Fap*.

A particularly incompetent-looking contractor is coming tomorrow (He said at first he'd do it this afternoon...) to drill holes in my already very shabby kitchenette.
Aren't you supposed to give us a week's notice?  sez I...
Yeah, but I ran out of letters, sez he...
Perhaps you should get some more, I suggested. He looked amazed.

The scanner is still dead. A neighbour said he'd have a look, but nothing doing, he obviously can't be arsed.

Random memories of the Gatwick Travelodge:
That long black hair on the night table, that wouldn't move, even when I blew hard on it, and had to be picked up (yetch) with a tissue.
The bottom of the shower curtain stained all over with what looked like ancient urine.
The sealed windows and nailed-shut drawers.
The extremely weird shower that rewards lengthy tinkering and attempts to adjust the temperature with a fierce volley of freezing H2O right in your bellybutton.

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