Thursday, 27 May 2010

Superstition - It's Not All It's Cracked Up To Be

Have you ever heard the superstition that if you see a magpie on its own you have to salute it to cancel out bad luck? I usually abide by it seeing as I have pretty bad luck anyway and there's no point acting hard and tempting fate, but as of the other week I have decided to cease any participation after nearly taking someone's eye out mid-salute whilst on the train to Liverpool to photograph the cathedrals. It wouldn't have been so bad had the woman not spent the last half hour talking to her new friend about beating someone up in McDonald's the other week. Apparently, someone angered her when they 'went for' her mum and she went mental, grabbing some girls hair and smashing her head to the ground. I thought her new friend might be a little bit shocked, but instead she carried on flicking through her copy of Heat magazine and nonchalantly replied, 'yeah, well, that's what you've gotta do, isn't it?' It came out later that they had made friends because they were both going to visit their boyfriends in the same prison. Figures. Thankfully, she didn't try ripping my hair out after the magpie incident, but nonetheless, I should be more careful with my superstitions. On the whole, Liverpool was lots of fun, although I did get some funny looks when I went into a shop to buy some water because I was laughing at some cat litter called 'SophistCAT'. Seriously though, how sophisticated can shitting in a box of gravel really be? There's no point trying to sugar coat it with a clever pun. 
After the other weeks drama involving the ants (who seem to have moved out now - probably got sick of living in squalor), the residents of No. 53 decided to have a mega clean up of the house, skirting boards included. I got allocated the downstairs bathroom, which we hadn't cleaned in God knows how long, and it took me the good part of about three hours to do. Well, probably only two seeing as I spent the first hour trying to figure out how to get the child safety lock off the bottle of bleach. Still, the house looked very clean and impressive when we were all finished, and it was even more appreciated on Thursday as I snuggled up on the no longer infested sofa with the worst hangover I have ever had and watched Land Before Time V. Spiffing. Thankfully, Saturday's hangover wasn't half as bad and I was just about able to manage the three hour bus journey home to go and see Peter. What I didn't enjoy was getting up at 7am on Monday morning to come back to Chester. Early morning is annoying at the best of times, but when there is a small child on the bus chanting 'It's my birthday! It's my birthday!' for three continuous hours, a line has been crossed. And, as if God was punishing me in some way for sins I had committed in a former life, the tape I was listening to suddenly halfway through turned into The Smurf's Christmas Party album and I was forced to listen to 'All He Wants For Christmas Is A Smurf Hat' for the rest of the journey. I felt a bit better, though, when the bus stopped and I realised that the alarm on my phone had been going off at quite a volume for twenty minutes and I hadn't noticed. Karma's a bitch, kid. Still, despite the traumatic journey home I had an ace weekend with Peter, and I even found some time to squeeze in seeing my mum and dad. Fortunately, I didn't stick around my dad's long enough to eat some of his rabbit pie - apparently, he wasn't joking when he said it was rabbit. Although he did make some rabbit ears out of pastry and stick them on the top of the pie, which I thought was pretty creative. 
Nothing much else that can be considered as 'exciting' has happened recently, except me and Kezia booking train tickets to go to Edinburgh for four days in June, which should be awesome. Kez found us a hostel that only costs £10 a night, which is as worrying as it is fantastic. For a tenner a night they'll probably include rats as part of its 'character'... Still, I'm mega excited.  I'm spending this week making myself a budget and trying to spend less money on stuff I don't need - when Amazon recommends you buy Vicious Animals in Fiction based on what you've already bought, I reckon it's a sure sign to stop consuming.

Saturday, 8 May 2010

Placement Description: Photographer, Job Description: ToffeeCrisp Merchant

I'm starting to that think job descriptions provided by employers are almost as full of as much crap as CVs, given that on Thursday I spent the majority of the day stood in a freezing cold church selling coffee, tea and chocolate biscuits. I was already in a bad mood given that the Royal Mail had posted a 'Sorry, You Were Out' leaflet through my door, despite the fact that I was actually in and had they put a bit more umph into the ringing of the doorbell, I might have answered the door. So anyway, I spent a good couple of hours stood there in my seven coats wondering what on Earth I was going to write in a 3,600 word essay on my placement. "Day 1: Three people came into the church. Two were looking for a public toilet, the third bought a ToffeeCrisp." I'll then have to reel off some kind of rubbish about how I used my initiative, learned to deal with the public and then gush about how the experience bettered me as a person... I'm currently undecided as whether or not to include an incident on the way home in which a man, for want of a better phrase, whipped out his cock. Really. In the middle of broad daylight. And I wasn't even in Bradford. "Sorry love, it's just, you sometimes get caught short, know what I mean?" Yes, I do know what you mean. I also know what you do: go use the public toilets at the church. And buy a ToffeeCrisp whilst you're at it. To be fair to him, he was pretty well endowed for a tramp. It's not even like I've got a nice home to go back to after a long day due to the family of ants that have recently taken up residence in our living room. As I watched them crawl around the room looking as though they were having a whale of a time, I wished all good days were as easy to find as rolling around in shit. I almost felt bad when Katie killed them all with half a bottle of Mr. Muscle. 


In other news... There isn't any. But here are some things I've learnt this week:

  • Ducks can fly. I don't know how I've got to twenty years old without knowing this, but given that I nearly wet my pants when one flew over my head yesterday, I can assure you I didn't.
  • The fluffy flowers that have seeds on the top (commonly used as projectile weapons in primary school) are actually what used to be dandelions. I had to ring my dad to confirm this for me when I walked passed a piece of grass that had only one week ago been covered with bright yellow flowers. (This was the same walk as when the duck divebombed me - Thursday was a big day.)
  • If you watch Coronation Street, leave it six months, and then watch it again, Deirdre Rachid's voice will have dropped at least one octave.