Wednesday, 21 September 2011

I Say Mrs. Aqua-Marine Hat!

Every Monday, without fail, I psych myself up and tell myself that this will be the week that goes right. This will be the week that I get through without embarrassing myself, without dropping an entire joint of roast ham on a customer's foot and then refusing to let her husband haggle the price of a pork pie, and without pulling down an entire ancient stone wall in the Yorkshire Dales whilst running away from a herd of rams. Unfortunately, all these things have happened within the past fortnight and I fear this week will be no different.

Despite the occasional projectile roast ham, my last week of work was even more boring than average and I thus spent the majority of my time thinking up ways to amuse myself; for example, putting on a Jeremy Paxman (of University Challenge fame) voice and insisting to contemplating customers that I am "going to have to rush them". I am also contemplating pretending to be a Bingo caller and practicing my new found profession when calling out ticket numbers: "It's two fat ladies, 88!" - of course, this could easily backfire if ticket number 88 was actually two fat ladies, but I like to think this adds a real sense of danger and adrenaline to the sport. Thinking about it, I'm not sure my adrenaline could actually take much more after my dad let me drive his ginormous car the other week. If you've ever driven either a tank or a bus, you'll know where I'm coming from. I'd have loved to be a fly on the wall for that car journey, watching my dad scream, "REVS! REV IT! YOU NEED MORE REVS!" and me screaming back, "I'M REVVING!" and then proceeding to stall in front of a huge line of traffic. To be fair, you can understand my hesitation as just before we set off he explained, in detail, what would happen if I crashed, thus making driving the car somewhat akin to surfing on a feather. If I didn't have heart problems before, I definitely do now. We calmed ourselves down when we got home by having a curry, only to then set the microwave aflame after accidentally putting tinfoil in it. After telling ourselves we had just imagined the flash that came from it, we turned around to see basically this in the middle of the kitchen:



Ok, so maybe it wasn't that extreme, but I'd had a long day and this was just the flames on top of the Christmas pudding. (See what I did there?). The last half of the week was substantially happier as I went camping in the Dales with Belinda (although we did almost have a repeat of the kitchen inferno after an incident involving a gas camping stove and a lit cigarette). It was good to get away from Bradford for a bit, even if it was only to Austwick. That's Austwick, by the way, not Auschwitz, a mistake at least two of my friends have made after Sally went, "ooh, that's a bit morbid, who'd want to camp there?". Thankfully, we were not in a concentration camp, although it did seem at one point that God was planning on another plague after it not only rained but hailstoned on the tent. I should have guessed the weather was going to be shit when I went into work the day before and a child was walking around in a snowsuit... Belinda wasn't too happy when I told her I was just going for a wee and could she please just pop the tent up? No such luck, unfortunately. We did manage to get it up in record time though, although my well deserved cup of tea afterwards was not as satisfactory after I realised I'd forgotten to bring a mug and instead had to down a bottle of beer and then shove a tea bag in the top to create a makeshift cuppa. This was soon rectified after going into Settle and purchasing a new one, despite the lack of selection - in the end the cheapest one I could find had World's Greatest Mum painted on the side... It did the job though, and now it can double up as a Christmas present for my mum. How thoughtful I am.

In other news, my secondary school has burnt down. After emitting small bursts of hope every time the fire alarm went off during the six years I spent there, I can't believe I've missed it. Still, I'm keeping the spirit alive by continuing to play childish games whenever I get the chance. I got Rebecca at work the other day with the old If-Your-Hand-Is-Bigger-Than-Your-Face trick. If you don't know this, it's basically a playground game that renders the slapping of another human being in the face acceptable and one I think should be used much more commonly in the workplace. In fact, I think most playground games should be introduced in the workplace - especially The Priest of the Parish Has Lost His Hat. (Can you tell I went to a Catholic primary school?) I always got really carried away with that one though and forever refused to be the normal 'Mrs. Red Hat' or 'Mrs. Blue Hat'. No no, I insisted on being 'Mrs. Aqua-Marine Hat'... Ever the unconventional.

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