All the wrong body fluids in all the wrong places. In Wales.
I went to Wales. That was nice, in a weird way. I have friends there who took me to what is the award-winning Best Fish 'n Chip place in Wales. God it was good. My centre of gravity had shifted so much after the main course I couldn't fit in pudding. Although I ate it, obviously. Skip pudding? Are you mental?
Also, I was in the company of their hyper-active 4 year old who had a new Thunderbirds toy and was full of sugar and chips. A frightening combination. Afterwards he ran alongside the harbour and I figured, kid, if you fall in, I'd sink faster than John Prescott in a vat of gravy if I have to get you out, so we're both gonna die. Kid did not fall in the water. Huzzar's all round, I feel.
Anyway, that night, because he's been good, he gets to watch one of his video's so he and I settle in front of the telly to watch Pinocchio. Only it's not a good version of Pinocchio, it's a weird one with Genevieve Bujold and Martin Landau and Udo Kier and John Sessions (?!) and millions of other real actors in it but 4 year old is happy, and there's something really nice about being curled up on the floor with a contented child you didn't have to give birth to, watching kids movies and eating sweeties.
At some point, kid gets bored and starts crawling round me on all fours pretending to be a puppy, which is cute. He keeps putting his nose on me, then going off for another crawl. He puts his nose on my foot, and I say 'kid, are you wiping your nose on me?' thinking we can have a laugh about the fact that he's not. Only, he lifts his head up, grins and crawls away, and there, on my sock, right on the bridge of my foot, is a HUGE wet stain. SWEET JESUS ALMIGHTY.YOU WIPED YOUR NOSE ON ME??!!
I am disgusted. That is seriously manky behaviour. Small child is
laughing.
Then I think.this is all fucked up. I am 35 years old and some very
attractive men have deposited body fluids on bits of me, often in a far messier and more random fashion than this small boy, so why am I so disgusted? God knows. I think basically because there was nothing in it for me. Also, deposit of body fluids is usually followed by two of you in a shower, getting all hot and wet and clean and grinning madly cos you know the minute you are done washing each other you will get out and go do it all again.
Before the snot incident, much, much earlier in the day, I'd gone for a run down to the beach and then walked along (not so much a beach, more a major collection of rocks) where I'd found lots and lots of dead dogfish, in various states - one of them complete. They're really beautiful little teeny sharks, but it is the kind of shoreline where you keep expecting to see a dismembered hand sticking up between the stones. And yes, I do watch
too many horror movies, but I swear even if you'd spent your life never watching any, you'd still feel the same way.
Oh and on the way back to the rail station on the Sunday, we got stuck in traffic behind a van from The Animalarium. MADE UP WORD!! Isn't that just a farm? Or a zoo? Animalarium indeed.
So that was Wales.
I came back up to London and - due to some deeply bizarre boy news - I was due major girl sympathy for getting the emotional equivalent of being twatted in the face by a big frying pan so my gorgeous friend Carrie phoned out for curry and we vegged in front of half hour BBC comedy and stuffed tikka and tarka dhal down our necks, washed down with particularly good Pinot Grigio. Yay for us.
I managed to fit in some meetings on the Monday and then headed North again.
Now, despite the fact that I have written to complain to both companies, I just have to name and shame them here.
Virgin, you are the shittest rail 'service' I have ever been on. I pulled down the tray table so I could eat my lunch, only to find it covered in ants waged in what seemed a major territorial battle with a couple of big fat earwigs. Blech. No lunch for me. Moved seat, felt all itchy for the rest of the journey. And GNER, you run a close shit second. Both companies had out-of-order Switch machines, one company had a faulty tea-urn and the other ran out of coffee (eeeeekkk!!). They both ran over two hours late. One couldn't switch the heating on, the other couldn't switch it off. On one train, there was blood smeared across the back of the seat in front. And trust me, there is good reason why the Birmingham-to-Aberystwyth train is referred to locally as "The Vomit Comet". And all this in four days. It's bad enough travelling with the great unwashed (does anyone really need to drink Carling Black Label at 10am??) but to get treated like so much cattle all the while is just rubbish. Mooooooo! You utter bunch of BASTARDS.
Also, I was in the company of their hyper-active 4 year old who had a new Thunderbirds toy and was full of sugar and chips. A frightening combination. Afterwards he ran alongside the harbour and I figured, kid, if you fall in, I'd sink faster than John Prescott in a vat of gravy if I have to get you out, so we're both gonna die. Kid did not fall in the water. Huzzar's all round, I feel.
Anyway, that night, because he's been good, he gets to watch one of his video's so he and I settle in front of the telly to watch Pinocchio. Only it's not a good version of Pinocchio, it's a weird one with Genevieve Bujold and Martin Landau and Udo Kier and John Sessions (?!) and millions of other real actors in it but 4 year old is happy, and there's something really nice about being curled up on the floor with a contented child you didn't have to give birth to, watching kids movies and eating sweeties.
At some point, kid gets bored and starts crawling round me on all fours pretending to be a puppy, which is cute. He keeps putting his nose on me, then going off for another crawl. He puts his nose on my foot, and I say 'kid, are you wiping your nose on me?' thinking we can have a laugh about the fact that he's not. Only, he lifts his head up, grins and crawls away, and there, on my sock, right on the bridge of my foot, is a HUGE wet stain. SWEET JESUS ALMIGHTY.YOU WIPED YOUR NOSE ON ME??!!
I am disgusted. That is seriously manky behaviour. Small child is
laughing.
Then I think.this is all fucked up. I am 35 years old and some very
attractive men have deposited body fluids on bits of me, often in a far messier and more random fashion than this small boy, so why am I so disgusted? God knows. I think basically because there was nothing in it for me. Also, deposit of body fluids is usually followed by two of you in a shower, getting all hot and wet and clean and grinning madly cos you know the minute you are done washing each other you will get out and go do it all again.
Before the snot incident, much, much earlier in the day, I'd gone for a run down to the beach and then walked along (not so much a beach, more a major collection of rocks) where I'd found lots and lots of dead dogfish, in various states - one of them complete. They're really beautiful little teeny sharks, but it is the kind of shoreline where you keep expecting to see a dismembered hand sticking up between the stones. And yes, I do watch
too many horror movies, but I swear even if you'd spent your life never watching any, you'd still feel the same way.
Oh and on the way back to the rail station on the Sunday, we got stuck in traffic behind a van from The Animalarium. MADE UP WORD!! Isn't that just a farm? Or a zoo? Animalarium indeed.
So that was Wales.
I came back up to London and - due to some deeply bizarre boy news - I was due major girl sympathy for getting the emotional equivalent of being twatted in the face by a big frying pan so my gorgeous friend Carrie phoned out for curry and we vegged in front of half hour BBC comedy and stuffed tikka and tarka dhal down our necks, washed down with particularly good Pinot Grigio. Yay for us.
I managed to fit in some meetings on the Monday and then headed North again.
Now, despite the fact that I have written to complain to both companies, I just have to name and shame them here.
Virgin, you are the shittest rail 'service' I have ever been on. I pulled down the tray table so I could eat my lunch, only to find it covered in ants waged in what seemed a major territorial battle with a couple of big fat earwigs. Blech. No lunch for me. Moved seat, felt all itchy for the rest of the journey. And GNER, you run a close shit second. Both companies had out-of-order Switch machines, one company had a faulty tea-urn and the other ran out of coffee (eeeeekkk!!). They both ran over two hours late. One couldn't switch the heating on, the other couldn't switch it off. On one train, there was blood smeared across the back of the seat in front. And trust me, there is good reason why the Birmingham-to-Aberystwyth train is referred to locally as "The Vomit Comet". And all this in four days. It's bad enough travelling with the great unwashed (does anyone really need to drink Carling Black Label at 10am??) but to get treated like so much cattle all the while is just rubbish. Mooooooo! You utter bunch of BASTARDS.
posted by Adele at 1:26 pm
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