As the day progresses one has random thoughts and observations. Twitter can be quite useful in capturing and broadcasting in 140 characters.
I wonder how much I can remember from random thoughts and observations.
Sitting at the traffic lights in Brixton Town Centre I spotted Cllr Toren looking alarmingly and amusingly as if he didn't know his way around Brixton Town Centre, specifically that bit outside the Town Hall.
Topping up Jimmy's Oystercard at the Tube some bloke started begging. I assumed he was more specifically trying to distract and dip so I told him to 'go away' (yes, those were my actual words!). He then tried the people behind us, but not until they were ready to use the machine. The bloke engaged him in conversation being all apologetic. I wanted to clock him (the bloke behind). Any conversation only encourages them; don't be so naive to think that such a person is worthy of compassion - he's a robber looking to exploit weakness.
On the Tube I noticed a man about my age try to give up his seat to an older woman with a stick. She was only going one stop so declined.
There was a woman stood in front of me. Obviously a follower of fashion. I noticed that her top - as well as being about half a size too small - was appallingly badly made. All the hems were upturned and fraying. One more wash and it will fall apart. I also noticed that she had the hairiest back I have ever seen on a woman. At first I thought it was an extended hairline but it was definitely a back hairier than most men. Now, I know that women actually have as much body hair as men and that an obsession with total depilation is verging on disturbing infantilism, but if I had a back that hairy I would either wear my hair down (she had long hair, pinned in a chignon) or I would wear a higher top.
I was annoyed at Starbucks (it was a stupid place to go because their coffee is crap, but logistically it was convenient considering the time involved). I asked if they had any chilled water. They pointed at the fridge but the water wasn't chilled. I requested a refund because I had asked for chilled water, it wasn't chilled. Why people looked at me as if I was weirdo, I don't know. If I had wanted to pay £1.20 for warm water that's what I would have requested.
I came to the conclusion that it is no surprise that I am an alcoholic*. In the Floral Hall I made what I thought was a simple drinks request - an orange juice and lemonade. A baby bottle of each; standard bar order. Only, the bottles weren't chilled. I queried this, the bar staff said that some people don't like cold drinks. Actually, I tend to agree. So why does almost every bar consider it necessary to add ice - that's yer frozen tap water - into every sodding drink? If I wanted to drink tap water, I'd have asked for it. And then the drink didn't fit into the glass I was given, so I asked for a bigger one. No can do. So, Royal Opera House, you charged me way over the going rate for a warm orange juice and lemonade, served in an inadequate glass, diluted with tap water. It would have been far simpler for me to order wine. But not at 2.15 on a nearly empty stomach.
We sat outside a restaurant, under the awning, protected from the rain. We specifically asked if it was okay to smoke. The waitress specifically drew our attention to the provided ashtray. Someone came to sit on the next table. We lit up. This woman kicked up a fuss and demanded to be moved to another table - inside the half empty restaurant. So, you have chosen to sit at one of of four tables outside a restaurant on Bow Street where there is a constant procession of internal combustion engines belching out noxious fumes, but then you object to someone smoking. Get real and get a sense of perspective. (Or are you so thick you base your opinions on the latest media bandwagon). Oh, by the way, our bill came to over £60. You didn't stay long enough for a main course to be cooked; your entire bill was probably smaller than our tip. Oh, and you were rude to the serving staff. That is entirely unacceptable.
On the Tube going home, Jimmy gave up his seat to a man with a white stick. Later, on the next stage of the journey, two separate thirty-something men gave up their seats to women in their 70s.
On the bus, two children barely out of Primary School were playing cRap on their phones, loud. I decided I would go and have a word, but Jimmy wouldn't let me out of the seat, saying it's not worth it; the bloke in front - who turned out to be an off-duty bus driver - agreed it's not worth it. The other day some driver confronted some kids and they pulled a gun out of their bag (I'm sceptical - a knife maybe, but I doubt a gun very much). My attitude is that if no one in the community tells children that their behaviour is unacceptable (and that I had a better quality music player before their parents were born!), they escalate the anti-social element until it is knives and guns aimed at bus drivers. He said when he was young a good clip around the ear was all it took when he was young, but what else do you expect 'round here'. I said a clip around the ear just demonstrates that violence = power, and how dare he say that my neighbourhood deserves scum. In any case, most teenagers try it on, push the boundaries and act thoughtlessly, but aren't gun-wielding maniacs. I cited two incidents in the past year when I mildly rebuked teenagers, one at the bus stop, one on a bus, for throwing litter. They apologised and picked up their litter. I thanked them. I knew full well they had been properly brought up but away from the beady eye of MumandDad they forgot. I have every confidence such children are and will be positive members of society.
I went home and suddenly overcome by the effects of half a bottle of wine and a grappa I retired to bed for half the evening.
Tonight I am supposed to be going to a local meeting about our latest planning blight. I would feel a lot happier if I thought it would be over in an hour, but I have this dread that it will be three hours of talking I don't want.
* I'm not
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