Why does Sheffield smell of wee?
And why do B&Bs in Richmond have showers that were once cupboards. Small cupboards?
Are just 2 of many questions that I’ve been asking of late.
If anyone has the answers to these, please do tell – it’d spare my brain musing on it at 4am, along with why I *had* to race two grown men in a people carrier last night (don’t worry, I did win) but when they were a tad pissed off at losing to a girl, I thought they were going to follow me, so I went about 3 miles out of my way up the motorway to “lose” them. Why oh why, did I feel the need to do it when I’m clearly a big girl’s blouse. Were my thoughts this morning.
Have promised myself only to race when absolutely necessary i.e. when the other car is not likely to beat mine, when someone tries to sneakily overtake at traffic lights, when I’ve got PMT, or all of the above.
Aaaaanyway I do have an incling of why Sheffield smells of wee. Or at least the Ibis Hotel Sheffield (and other isolated pockets of the city) The clue was when I went down for breakfast and saw all the single, depressed-looking, cheap salesmen-type “business travelers”. These people clearly like to wee in the shower I thought to myself. And I think they did. On a regular basis. There’s no other reason why the bathroom should reek of urine quite so much otherwise. The hotel has clearly given up stamping it out – or perhaps lost the fight against the somewhat primeval urge of territory marking. Perhaps if there was more to do in Sheffield of an evening other than get in a fight, there would be less need for leisure activities such as these.
Thus, my conclusion is: don’t ever go to Sheffield. Or if you find yourself sent on a business trip there, do take a large bottle of bleach with you and perhaps a travel scrabble for the long, dark evenings.
I’m afraid this post doesn’t contain any sordid tales of sex or violence. Firstly because you really wouldn’t want to accidentally catch sight of a local Sheffieldian cracking one off on the balcony below you, let alone letting their grubby mits anywhere near your mimsy. (I do love the word mimsy – it’s not used enough in everyday English)
I’m sure I’d have lots to say about the violence in Sheffield, had I been brave enough to be outside past 8pm. I wasn’t. The general feeling there is that a fight is brewing, regardless of the time of day. The necessity to smoke outside of pubs now has created groups of pissed up Northerners swearing at you on the street as you try to sneak past quietly (no difference to Gloucester, really)
As far as actual violence is concerned, I’d have to say it was only me – gnashing my teeth loudly and getting hysterical at not being able to find my way out of the damn place when it was time to leave. I could have easily punched someone then – a town planner, preferably.
-moosh (staring at the pattern on the bottom of the shoes of the nice man from The School of Social Entrepreneurs for the past 3 hours. Concentration today, lacking somewhat)
Attack of the eternal January
OK, OK, after a minor poking I thought it best to come back and try to explain the lack of posts.
Firstly, it’s January. I fecking hate January. It’s so long, and for 99% of january, it’s not payday. That in itself is enough to make anyone want to bury under the duvet and only wake up on the last working day of the month (and only then to check the bank account online)
Then…due to my own doing, for the last few months I’ve had to pay a rather large mortgage and all the trimmings on my own. It’s not cheap. So I’m trying to launch my own business of IT tomfoolery in the evenings. This is a rather large inconvenience as it eats into one’s drinking time rather considerably.
<shameless plug> Anyone need any IT support/development/advice in the Stroud area?</shameless plug>
That only leaves blogging time here at work. Whilst I am not against reclaiming some of my unpaid overtime this way, the situation here at odd community charity is now at the point of redundancy.
Being the IT dude, I of course, have access to peoples emails *cough* so I already know (99% sure) that I wont be made redundant by reading the confidential discussion going on. I also know that they’ve already decided who is going, and that they’re going to go through the motions of an “open and fair” staff review. My arse. So everyone is flapping. There’s shouting, speculation, crying and now out and out bitchyness (from carpet jumpered freak naturally)
I am in a big “keep yer head down” mode at the moment. And it seems the best course of action to take.
After new year in London with Monsieur Fwapper, we have decided to go on a kind of EasyJet adventure. We’re yet to decide a destination…although you can pretty much guarentee large amounts of high jinx wherever we end up. We’re torn between Madrid, Sofia or Sarajevo. The trouble is, we’re limited to places we can easily get to with EasyJet – that would make Madrid the simple option…but me being me wants to have a bit more of an adventure and fly to Croatia and then try to take a train to Sarajevo. Dave is not convinced enough yet. I think he will need plying with Fruli Strawberry Beer.
And you’d have thought that all of this was enough for one January, yes?
Well I’d have thought so too. But there’s one last thing: I’ve been quite ill too since xmas, and I’m gonna have to go into hospital in the next week or 2. This is something I’m not looking forward to, as I’m more scared of doctors than I am of Hairdressers (and I’m pretty scared of them)
I expect normal service to be resumed in February though 
-moosh
