Ian Hislop & I did it my way
Ooo! Yesterday whilst being up in London village who should I see in Charing Cross station? Yep – it was Ian Hislop from Have I Got News for You with some woman on crutches. Seeing celebrities always makes me feel thoroughly over excited – and when you look at the medley of celebs I’ve seen over the years – you’ll see why!
| Ian Hislop | London |
| Terry Pratchett (I’m 99% sure it was him) | Edinburgh |
| Fern Britton | Padstow |
| The woman who played Angus Deayton’s wife in One Foot in the Grave | London |
| Keith Chegwin | Newcastle |
| Kenneth Clark (when he was Education Secretary) | Gloucester |
| Cameron from Neighbours circa 1990 | London |
So, errr, that’s about it. You can also see that most of them have been spotted in London – which might explain everyone else’s malaise upon seeing Ian Hislop. I guess they’ve got celebreties coming out of their ears down there. We were just jolly thankful when Kenneth Clarke came to our school in Chav Town (even if he was hideously late, and couldn’t look less interested)
Aaaanyway, after all that excitement died down I remembered that I was there to actually catch a train (damnit, my job keeps sending me to Lewisham – I think they’re trying to kill me off). Not long after sitting down, a strange man came and started flapping in the seats opposite. Out of his bag came a bit of scraggy cloth that he delicately laid down onto the train seat so as not to sit directly on it (god knows why – the clothes he was wearing wern’t exactly, errr, fresh shall we say)
Next came the hanky out of his pocket, which he proceeded to wipe under his armpits with without a care in the world. It was at this point that the man sat next to me decided that he couldn’t take anymore and he got up and wandered down the other end of the train. (Wish I had done that) He then spread the aforementioned hanky over his knees to dry it out, and the floral notes of his BO really hit me then. I wanted to retch. The straw to break the camels back though, was when he started whistling. Badly. At one point it turned into a kind of “I did it my way” mashup with about 3 other songs. If he didn’t get off at the next stop, I would I promised myself. Thankfully he did and the smell slowly went with him.
Gaaaah.
-moosh
Tags: Ian Hislop Charing X Stinky people
Back in Rene so soon
Well even I thought my lesson had been learnt from last weekend, but it’s amazing the difference 7 days make.
In those 7 days though, it felt like alot had happened. My presence was demanded up in Scotland again, and so I had to proove to myself that I could make 2 flights in a row without having my name called ( I did do it. Woo! Although this did mean just queing lots in cattle-esque rows until they let you on the aircraft. In hind sight, it’s alot fecking nicer just to sniff perfume or sit in the bar until they call your name 
)
I thought I was going to have the flight of my dreams when on walked a chap in full Naval uniform. With hat. And sat just 2 rows ahead of me. Gearing up into thigh rubbing mode this was quickly scuppered by an old man who took the row directly in front of me and assulted my senses not only with his BO, but also blocked my view of aforementioned seaman. And if all of this wasn’t bad enough, I then dropped all my sweets under his chair. Arses.
When I come back into work on the Friday, I find out that the Carpet-Jumpered Freak has been up to her bitchy old tricks and stitched both the new girl and me up whilst we were both absent from the team meeting last week. Luckily, the boss knows the score and words are going to be had today (Monday). I was going to take today off, but I changed the day so that I can be present when she gets a telling off. Yay-comeupance-ness!
Back to the weekend just gone: In my defence, your honour, it was very impromptu and it was with people who I hadn’t seen in bloody aaaaaages. I started out on Saturday thinking I was just helping an old colleague by some shoes. This soon escalated into lunch, suit buying and then going to the pub to meet up with a colleague I hadn’t seen in even longer than bloody ages. So, it would have been rude just to up and leave after just a couple of drinks. Also, now that we don’t work for the Local Government office in question *ahem* we all felt freer to discuss some of the stuff that went on during that time that wasn’t, errr, common knowledge. I got to find out that one night when we all got on the sambuca (ouchy) at this chap’s house after a particularly roudy night in the pub, one member of the team actually disappeared with a Geordie chap from the Housing Dept into the flat’s carpark and performed fellatio on him. But it doesn’t end there….upon coming round the next day and remembering that he has CCTV covering the carpark, she asks her colleague to check the footage and destroy it! Hehehehehe. He says he saw her in a whole new light after that (And I thought I had done some bad things whilst drunk….) But anyway, apparently everyone was knobbing someone they shouldn’t at that time.
Anyway, whilst I’d been shoe shopping with colleague No 1, the other colleague had been drinking steadily and so by the time we got to the pub he was already at the “I love you” stage of drinking, and we therefore had quite a few hours to make up for. And we did.
Talking to them about “the door incident” of last halloween in Cafe Rene stirred their drunken senses, and they insisted that they’d be able to break down the new door. *ahem* Needless to say, the owners have now put on a very sturdy door so there will be no more late night excursions into the catacombes. Shame really. Time flies on, and we seem to gather more people around the table and we end up, about 2am having a “who is more Irish” debate, with, errrr, an Irishman called Ian. Funnily enough, he didn’t win and much more rum (at that stage) was drunk.
What with the clocks going foward and all that jazz, I’m not entirely sure what time I made it home – all I do know is that I’m not going to go drinking again next Saturday. Honest.
-moosh
A come back for Aerosvit?
Rumours have it (from a pilot type forum) that good old Aerosvit will be flying again from Birmingham at the end of March, and if this page is anything to be believed:
http://www.aerosvit.ca/eng/flights_new/?c1=1195&c2=1036&flightno=&x=35&y=8
I will be sat here crossing my fingers 
*cough*
-moosh
Tags: Aerosvit
[ Edit: there's nothing on the BHX arrivals or departures to suggest that Aerosvit are flying again from Birmingham. *sob*. Maybe later in the year....Damn you rumours! 
]
[Edit - Edit: Baaaah! The above page is now just a 404...which just adds to the non-flyingness of Aerosvit in the UK. *sob*]
Lesson one: just don’t do it
There are a few things in life which are sure to happen: toast falling butter side down, my name being called in departure lounges etc but only one thing is guaranteed to happen: when Moosh and Whale get together of a Saturday night, much ale is quaffed.
We were supposed to be having a quiet drink to think about when to go out for a proper drink. *ahem*
I suppose it being St Patricks Day didn’t help matters, as by the time we got into town all the pubs were full of very merry people wearing silly hats. And so we decided that we should also drink Guinness (nothing to do with trying to get enough tokens for a silly hat ourselves) I should add at this point that neither of us particularly likes Guinness. Upon re-discovering our indisposition for the stuff and the fact that it took 1/2 an hour just to get to the bar, we thought it best to be on our way from that pub.
When we got out into the street, we were going to head for The New Inn but, when we got closer to the doors we realised why we don’t actually ever go in there; they have karaoke on a Saturday night. Dear god no. I then had the great idea of going to a pub that closed about 5 years ago, and whilst we were looking for it we stumbled upon Poets Bar. And I think it’s fair to say, that we’ve found ourselves another smashing little pub. It was lovely! There was only about 4 tables in there (any more and you wouldn’t have been able to navigate to the bar) but that added to it’s specialness. Moreover, they sold Staropramen on draught in Staropramen glasses. Well, I had a Staropramen glass – I made Whale drink hers from a Magners glass (something she scoffs at) heheheheh.
Starting to feel the draw of Cafe Rene, we decided we could hold back no longer and made a bee-line for it. It was as smashing as ever, and the downstairs bit was open (as it always is on a Saturday). Whale hit the cider at that point, but I stuck with more beer – something I spent most of Sunday lamenting about. As usual, I suspect Whale put on her Impulse perfume as we found ourselves drinking with 2 strange men not long after sitting down. I say men, I should probably say boys – they were only about 20. Oh dear. Anyway, they were a good laugh even if one of them was wearing a child’s soldier hat which kept coming undone and I had to keep doing up (if only he would keep still).
It’s fair to say that at this point, with the addition of yet more beer I was feeling a little intoxicated and we missed the point at which we could walk stagger to the bus station to get the last bus home. So, we went downstairs instead Unfortunately, the claustrophobic smokey atmosphere made me feel a bit queasy and I had to come back up for air and decided it best to teeter home. Whale was just warming up at that point and so decided to stay (you’ll have to ask her nicely to blog what happened after I left). I managed to wander off down the road and I think I was crossing at the traffic lights when I just went arse over tit practically under the wheels of a waiting car. Oh the shame! I now have a big graze on my knee. This whole sorry shenanigan was witnessed by many tee-total people nearby who I’m sure then tutted at me severely for being drunk.
I don’t actually remember getting home but funnily enough I removed my make up before having a few calls to Huey and then slumbering in the loo. None of this helped my state of mind in the morning when I had to cook a huge roast dinner for my Mum who I’d invited over the week before. Needless to say I couldn’t actually eat any of it and proceeded to call for Huey again. Baaaah (or should that be Bleuurrghhh?)
Never again.
(until next time)
-moosh
Tags: Cafe Rene, Poets Bar, The New Inn, St Patricks Day, Guinness,
Rascist plants
Is it possible, I hear you asking. To that, I say yes. My poor lemon tree is living proof that plants can be rascist too.
You see, I bought 2 very small orange trees and a large healthy lemon tree to sit in my conservatory and make me feel like I’m in somewhere nice like Italy instead of dull and dreary Stroud in winter. I feed them all the same citrus plant feed and they all were re-potted nicely with some John Innes. I now realise my mistake in putting the lemon tree in the middle of 2 orange trees, because I’m sure they picked on it something rotten, for by the end of last summer all but about 5 leaves fell off the lemon tree whilst the bullying orange trees have gone from strength to strength.
Bastards.
It’s just my luck to pick out the bloody rascist plants. I’m sure not all orange trees are rascist – maybe I should buy another lemon tree to even things up a bit in the conservatory. Will drag my arse round to the garden centre on Sunday, hangover permitting. (We’re going out for a pre-drink drink on Saturday to decide where to go when we next go out drinking)
Unfortunately, I can already predict what will happen: we’ll be brave and go to some strange pubs (hopefully not ringing the landlord from the bar to ask where the toilets are, and then being too scared to go to the loo because he’d then know it was us who just rung him from about 5 foot away) go in there, possibly break something/laugh at the clientele, leave, wander aimlessly and then end up back in “good old” Cafe Rene. Because Cafe Rene is just the best pub ever (except that it doesn’t sell Fruli – it’s one downside), so why the hell do we ever bother going anywhere else. A question we ask ourselves every. single. time. But are powerless to stop it. Gaaaah!
So if you do ever see us, leaving Cafe Rene – please, please just tell us to save ourselves some time and go back inside.
Ta muchly,
-moosh
Tags: Cafe Rene, Rascist Plants, lemon trees, orange trees
Unnecessary pissage
I’ve only just got back to my desk after what feels like living in London for the past week. So I have many things to rant about – my rascist orange plants being just one.
Anyway, it’s good to be back to my usual worky toilet (even though some people here seem to have explosive diorrea on a daily basis). I spent an entire day on Monday wiping piss from seats. It’s not big and it’s not clever. This was from ladies loos across London and the south west. Tsk tsk.
I have nothing against those who wish not to sit down and would rather hover over the loo in a kinda throw back to pissing down a hole – but if you’re going to do that, please lift the fecking seat first so that it doesn’t get covered in piss. There be some of us who after teetering around in heels all day, love nothing better than a sitting down wee.
-moosh
Shouty Moosh
The last week has been a bit odd, all in all.
First off, one of our useless directors comes down to weird community charity HQ and has a go at me for being “too responsive” to the needs of our clients, with regards to the software I’m writing. OKaaaaay. Sorry, next time I wont consult anyone and just do what the hell I want, yes?
On reflection, this outburst then prompted me to kick downwards as it were, and have a go at one of our sister organisation in London’s IT contractors. I do believe that I said to him that he just “strung a few ASP pages together and downloaded the rest from the web”. Which, is totally true but I got a bit shouty which is totally counter-productive as it fails to get your point across and the other person just thinks that you’re a hysterical woman with PMT (I wasn’t. Meh.)
I then came in to work, to be confronted by the Ops director asking me about my colleague – a woman I like to call the Carpet-Jumpered Freak. Because she is:
She used to be my line manager *shudder* and tried to micro manage me at every opportunity. She was also a complete biatch with it, and on my second week I came this <-> close to walking out because of her attitude towards me. Grrrr. If I wasn’t trying to get a mortgage at that point, I would have. But, at that time I had to make do with a fag and a walk around the carpark to calm down.
Aaaaanyway, what I was trying to say is that she’s now being a cow-bag to the new girl who is lovely, and the new girl isn’t standing for it (yay!). She’s gone to the ops director (after me telling her that CJF used to do that to me too) and it turns out, that CJF is a complete arse to the director too! :O Baaah! So, me and the ops director had a chat and now I have to keep a diary of her rants to be used as evidence. Oooo. He says he’ll have no qualms about sacking her!
Result.
Then….to round the week off nicely my PC decides to start denying that it has *any* devices and has the screaming ab-dabs just trying to find files. I was going to spring clean it soon anyway, but this kinda forced me into doing it right away. One format & re-install later, it’s now behaving itself…although I havn’t put all of my MP3 files back onto it yet. Oh deary dear.
-moosh
Tags: Carpet Jumpers, Shouty, IT contractors, Uselss directors, Work bullies,
