Tragedy: Face Fell Off

Today, in a small town by the sea, Tamsin’s face fell off.

It wasn’t as if she didn’t know this was coming,” said her face, “I’ve been warning her for a while now. I mean, just look at my under-eye wrinkles! What did she expect?”

Tamsin is unavailable for comment but the local newsagent has reported a woman wearing a veil coming in to buy out his stock of coloured paper bags.

It was very strange,” said Mikhail, “She came in, bought all the coloured bags and then started cutting holes in them. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Boots spokesperson said that their online supplies of anti-ageing cream were sold out at 6am this morning.

Honestly, some women should just learn to pay more attention to their diet and sleeping habits,” said Emelda Markhurst, 48, “I’ve had sixteen Botox sessions and sleep in a foil mask packed with nutrient rich, collagen injected, anti-wrinkle gel and never leave the house during the day. This is why my face is still intact.”

Tamsin’s friends, Pie and K, are appealing to anyone who’s seen a woman roaming the streets wearing a paper bag to please contact them urgently so they can get her to counselling.

Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Yahoo BuzzAdd to Newsvine


Ten Things That London Commuters Have Taught Me

My time of the commute is nearly at an end and the wide-eyed considerate human that I once was has been replaced by a woman that goes, “Tssk“.

1. No matter how relaxed you are when you get off the train, the tube will get you. I swear, you could have meditated the entire time on the lovely overland train and arrived in a state of blissful calm, and it will be ripped from you the moment you stand up. The wave of “I must get off first, I must walk faster, get out my way, oh for Pete’s sake” will hit you the second you get off the train.

2. Your elbows and bum are weapons of mass destruction. When pushed into a corner by surly men in suits a deft nudge with your elbow (note: I said nudge) can get you room to breathe. If this fails look at man in question with horror in your eyes, catch his eye and then look at his hand and then your bum. He will think he touched it. He will move rapidly away. Use in emergencies only.

3. After three days you will go “tssk“. I’m sorry, but it’s true. Those people who you labelled as rude and unfriendly when you first started commuting to London are now YOU. At first I was astonished by how many people tutted at me under their breath because I just wasn’t fast enough. Today (and yesterday) I tutted myself. I am ashamed.

4. You will sit next to the freaks. On my first day it was Mad Snot Flicking Man who sat next to me and leered at me the entire way home. On my second it was Strange Growths Man who wanted to play footsie under the table. Now, as I approach the train home I think to myself, “Do I sit in the single seats next to the loo and endure the smell, or do I risk it and sit on a normal seat and see who sits beside me?” To be honest, the answer depends on whether or not I’m eating my dinner on the way home. And even then it’s hit and miss…

5.  If you are running late everything will stop working. Train tickets demand that you get there on time. Miss your train and you pay again (and out your nose). Usually you need to catch two tubes to get to the rail station. If one tube grinds to a halt because some [insert adjective here] human has pulled the alarm or tried to eat the conductor, the rest will follow suit. Or your next tube will be so full that it should be entered into the Guinness Book of Records.

6. Pretend you can’t see anybody else. I have been stood on, crushed, bumped and elbowed, and that’s just trying to cross the main station to get to the tube. I have noticed that those who escape unscathed are those who just walk and pretend they can’t see anybody else. You either get a briefcase in your eye or you leap out of their way. That said, if you are thin or short, adopt this strategy at your own risk.

7. Rational thought is abandoned in favour of the chase. It’s insane. You can see that the queue to get through the ticket barrier is about 30 people thick in all directions, but there are still people shoving past you to get in front. Why? The queue is just as bad on the other side! It bewilders me. I end up overtaking/catching up with these Furious Flappers five minutes later and my eyes aren’t bulging in fury. They’re cardaic arrests waiting to happen.

8. People are fabulous. You can be forgiven for thinking that I hate everybody on the commute so far, but actually there are some really lovely moments. You can meet new people, have fascinating conversations, and die with delight watching children giggle with their parents on long train journeys.

9. By the time you get to work you need a lie-down. I am filled with admiration for people who do this commute every day, every week, for many years. I am. They need awards and special holiday retreats. When I get to work after my two hour commute I’m almost incapable of coherent thought. The people I’m working with think I’m an idiot. They’re not entirely wrong…

10. You can fit 100 people into a space the size of your toilet. And then you can stop at another station and squeeze in a couple more. And again. And again. Then, when you have an armpit in each eye, an ass on your hand, a handbag exploring your spine and sweat pouring down your face, the tube will stop and a voice will come over the intercom and say, “Sorry for the delay folks but there appears to be a faulty train at the next station and they’re just moving it onto the siding.”

Add to FacebookAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Yahoo BuzzAdd to Newsvine

The tired mum

Somedays, like today, I wonder if I’ll ever feel “not tired” again. It’s been a long week and the weekend is as packed with work as the usual days of Mon to Fri. Not that I’m complaining, mind, it’s just that I’m sitting here with a head full of lead and about two hours to have down time and I’m too shattered to decide what I’m going to do!

Oh, the irony! Should I curl up in front of the TV with my knitting and mindlessly absorb fabulous dross while my needles click the shawl into place? If I don’t hurry up this is only going to be ready next winter. Ha!

Do I play Bioshock on my PC because I’m desperate to finish it and really feel like some gaming to wind down tonight?

Or do I finally get some time with my shiny new Xbox 360 and carry on attempting to play Alan Wake?

The thing is. Knitting is ace but I’m not sure my brain can cope. The Xbox 360 is an entirely new FPS control system that I’m rubbish at (snort) and Bioshock makes me jump. Although perhaps I’m just the right level of sleepy to just relax and enjoy the game and ignore the terrifying noises oozing out of my speakers.

It does make me wonder why I get all these scary games when, since having Squidge, I’m now too jumpy to enjoy them. And, what’s that all about anyway? I used to be really good at FPS’ and now I’m a bit rubbish. Not sure if it’s practise or turning into a mom that’s done it.

Well, it’s getting late (time is flying today!) and I’ve decided I’m going to Bioshock myself tonight. Not the world’s most riveting post, I know. But hey, everyone has a down day.