Sunday, 8 November 2009

'Is It Just Me, Or Does That 'c' On The Mince Pie Label Look Suspiciously Like A 'g'?'

When I was at secondary a school a wise, or so I thought at the time, teacher said to me, 'Amy, there's something unique about you, you're going to go far in life'. Judging by Thursday's journey home, I beg to differ. About the going far part, not the unique part - you would have to be uniquely stupid to do what I did. Everything started to go downhill when I was robbed at Chester train station. I'd had a slight bout of homesickness and decided to go back to Bradford for a few days thinking it might make me a little happier. However, homesickness was quickly displaced by disbelief and depression when I had to pay £40 for a return ticket to Leeds - in theory, 96 cans of Strongbow. With a lighter purse, a still drunk Megan and a backpack the size of a small African country, I reluctantly boarded the train thinking the day could only get better. This idea was squished as soon as I sat down and realised I wouldn't be able to get into my house once I got back to Bradford as my keys were in the top drawer of my desk in Chester. Nice one. Thankfully, the rest of the journey ran fairly smoothly until I said goodbye to Megan in Huddersfield and carried on by myself to Bradford. That was when it happened. Instead of giving the man at the train station my 'OUT' ticket, I inadvertedly gave him my 'RTN' ticket - the one I needed to get back to Chester on the Saturday. Had I noticed it at the time, I could have gone back and reclaimed it, saving myself half of the £40 I'd paid for it, and the following £11 I had to pay for a NationalExpress bus back. However, I didn't notice, and am now into minus numbers where my money is concerned, something which shouldn't have happened given that I had around £1,000 only 2 months ago. To top it all off, I dropped my headphone jack down the toilet and as a consequence all my music sounds as if it is being performed by the entire cast of The Little Mermaid...
Fortunately, Thursday night is pub night in Thornton and I was able to drown my sorrows in many a rum and coke whilst listening to my mother witter on about the bane of her life - the new central heating. Apparently, the instruction manual is too complex for her to understand and she keeps having to get out of bed at exactly 1:15am every night and turn it off (she likened it to being as stressful as having a new born baby, leaving me to wonder whether I was some scientific miracle baby that radiated heat at all hours of the night). Things started looking up on Friday when Sally bought me coffee and we sat in Starbucks for the good part of three hours talking about shite and people watching. There was also an amusing incident involving a label for 'mince pie' which had been typed in a We're-So-Posh font, resulting in the 'c' looking incriminatingly like a 'g'... Once I had left Sally I had to sit at the bus stop for ages (I missed the bus I was meant to get, obviously) and listen to a small, clearly-raised-in-Bradford child swearing at its parents (from its pram, no word of a lie) and scream at the top of its lungs about how it refused to go and 'see grandma' unless it could go to McDonalds first... To be fair, 'grandma' was probably only 24 and most likely worked in McDonalds, so I don't see what the problem really was. I forced myself to listen to it until my bus came and then went to the pub with my dad (what? My parents are rock and roll) and contented myself with downing rum, eating curry and watching Peter Kay. Thankfully my bus ride back to Chester today was uneventful and my doom and gloom appears to have evaporated for the time being - however, I am taking a brave step and venturing out of my house to the library tomorrow, so watch this space...

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