I’ve had this page open for an hour now and still nothing. I’ve been on Zara, Missguided and H&M, I’ve made cheese on toast with a dash of Lea & Perrins, eaten a share bag of Doritos and an entire box of Festive Friends… and still my brain is no more fuelled and inspired than it was before I held my credit card and my colon to ransom. There’s so many things whirring around in my head but I can’t seem to grab hold of one of them for long enough to stop it in its tracks and pour it out in a blog post. It’s like being in a very long, unsatisfying game of quidditch. All the things going on in my brain are just golden snitches unwilling to be captured and all the open tabs on here are distractions from what I should be doing – bludgers if you will (Potter fans you know! For everyone else there’s always Wikipedia). And now all I can think about is how I can’t think of anything that’s worth writing about. Like when you suddenly become aware of how loud a clock is in an exam, or that really annoying person going to town on a goddamn apple on your silent morning commute. There’s no unhearing that when it happens.
I once had one of those early eater types sat right next to me for the entire hour and ten minute journey from Brighton to London Victoria. It was terrifying. I clocked her thermal stainless steel flask a mile off as she faffed with her coat and her Metro and I honestly considered making an excuse to get up and move into another carriage before it was too late. She’d been on my train before and I’d seen and heard her porridge pot from about ten seats away so I knew exactly what was coming. It annoyed me then so how the hell was I going to cope being sat right next to her this time? The sweaty palms started, the carriage seemed smaller and I felt trapped, wedged between the velveteen seats of the Gatwick Express and this (lovely as she may be) f*cking loud eater. It’s my worst nightmare.
On every mouthful her teeth would grate on the spoon, also stainless steel. Then she’d pause in thought after reading a few paragraphs about how conspiracy theorists reckon Trump is an orphan from Pakistan, shift the porridge around her molars and then gulp it down. And then, even when there was absolutely no porridge left at the bottom of that flask, she would carry on scraping around trying to grab those fugitive oats by the pussy. Reminder: it was a stainless steel flask. Man alive, I tell you what if you thought nails on a black board were bad you’ve heard nothing yet. I did everything to make it obvious I was annoyed – everything aside from actually telling her (obviously), ‘cos I’m not insane haha, can you imagine? “Excuse me you’re eating like my dad, can you stop slapping your chops together and eat your porridge like a normal person” i.e at home in a proper bowl and without an audience. So I fidgeted around, I huffed and I puffed and I blew her Metro down, but of course she didn’t realise. Unlike me, she’d remembered her headphones that day.
I’ve been on Zara, Missguided and H&M, I’ve made cheese on toast with a dash of Lea & Perrins, eaten a share bag of Doritos and an entire box of Festive Friends… and still my brain is no more fuelled and inspired than it was before I held my credit card and my colon to ransom.
Sorry, got a little sidetracked. Apparently I do have something to write about after all. I’m like a bloody Russian doll, nesting all my layers of procrastination inside one another. It’s weird how little things can really grate on us isn’t it? Now I think about it, there’s loads of random things that get on my goat. Bathroom fluff is one of those things. One second you wipe it all away and then before you know it it’s back again, quilting you toilet seat and fluffing up your shampoo bottles like some kind of homeware herpes. It just keeps coming back doesn’t it? What else…OMG slow walkers. They’re the worst. I think I’ve got less tolerant of them since working in London because 80% of people are already late for somewhere they don’t even know they need to be yet, and the rest are happy shoppers-come-tourists with more time on their hands than Bernard’s Watch. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, we need a fast lane and a slow lane people. I also hate it when my boyfriend threads his headphones in-between my toes *shudder* but I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that’s slightly more unique to me.
It’s amazing what you can do when you put your mind to it. I mean look at me tonight. I’ve eaten at least double my recommended calorie intake, laughed at the Planet Earth 2 bears scratching their arses and considered whether it’s acceptable to find Larry Lamb attractive on I’m A Celebrity, and now I’m about to go and wash my beast of a barnet. As Sunday evenings go, I think I’ve been quite productive in my procrastination. Until next time fellas! Love you bye. PS here’s hoping the morning commute will be a porridge-free one #PrayForLC
