The invasion of the 3ft white men!

February 2, 2009 at 5:12 pm (General chat, Uncategorized) (, , , , , , , , , , )

AS the song rightly says, ‘since we’ve no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow’. There is nothing nicer than waking up confronted by a blanket of pure snow. Problem is, such joy soon turns to misery when you remember, it’s Monday morning and you do have places to be; namely work!

However, getting to work is not simple when the skies are white! Ultimately, London’s transport network, you know the one responsible for carrying thousands of people around the city, is completely destroyed by the pretty little snow flakes. When faced with cancelled buses, severely delayed trains and a suspended tube system it becomes near impossible for stranded commuters to get to the office.

Of course, there is always the option of walking. Not as straightforward as it sounds. Firstly and most obviously, London is no small place. It’s cold and wet and a million disgusting things are lying in wait of your foot under the deceiving cotton wool like substance. If you’re lucky enough to live close to work then by all means a short walk, although still treacherous, is unlikely to kill you, unless of course you come into contact with a swerving black cab who’s driver is convince he is driving the bat-mobile.  

For those of us who’s habitats are a little further afield, such an option is unfeasible. An hour walk in arctic conditions on a continuous ice-rink is hard enough. Concentrating on not falling on your derriere whilst trying to dodge mud ridden balls charmingly thrown from young fingers that have been given the day off to terrorise the adult population, is a definite no no.

So, let’s have a snow day! A good idea in theory and the only option for many, however, when you are stranded in your house with no way of going anywhere, the novelty soon wears off. There are only so many snowmen you can make from a balcony full of snow before you run out of building material or your fingers fall off.

Apparently, the incoming snow has been expected for a while, yet London was still not prepared. How can a capital city in a 1st world capitalist country get it so wrong? Such an error is a blow for businesses everywhere and a hindrance to workers, especially those not credited with absence pay.

The only saviour in all this is the local around the corner. If all else fails, go to the pub. Not only is it a good place to while away a few hours but if the blizzard continues what better place is there to get snowed in? It’s warm, full of alcohol, food and plasma screen televisions. So until the storm passes, bottoms up.  

Sarah Butt ©


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First class annoyance!

December 4, 2008 at 9:24 pm (General chat) (, , , , )

tube3EVERDAY, thousands of people cram themselves on and off the London underground; those tightly packed trains designed to allow Londoners to travel around London with COMFORT and EASE!!!  So you’re standing on one leg, holding your breath, making room for that extra person to wedge themselves in, not the most stylish way to travel but doable. What makes the tube a miserable way to travel is those passengers who insist on making it their mission to irritate you in any way possible. 

Firstly, if you’re lucky enough to park your derriere on one of the carpet coated seats there is always someone who seems set to disturb you’re quiet journey by moaning about the awful British weather, the price of tickets or the crowded streets of Oxford Street.

You would think that after living in the country for 20 years, you may have gotten used to the wind and the rain. We are in England, the capital of drizzle, get an umbrella and a waterproof and deal with it. Or better still, follow the trend and move to Spain!

London is expensive, it comes with the territory, if it bothers you that much walk the 5minute stretch and save your pennies.

 It’s a Saturday, what do you expect? The main shopping street in central London is a tourists haven. Travel to the suburbs, bag a bargain without the discomfort of someone’s elbow in your chest.

Secondly, when tightly packed like sardines into a narrow carriage there is always someone who thinks their balancing skills are such that the handrail is dissolute. If your a circus tight rope walker then fine, but for the rest of you want to be clowns, swallow your pride and hold the rail, that way you wont bruise the toes of your innocent comrades who would appreciate not being disabled on their journey home.

Thirdly, cover your mouth when coughing. Tis the season of giving but some things are best kept to oneself in an only child like manner, i.e your germs.  The feel of someone’s groin tightly rammed against me, the occasional knock as people squeeze off the train, even the occasional paper cut from a misplaced book can all be dealt with however, the feel of saliva on the back of my neck is a no no. Ask your grandma for a hanky for Christmas.

Fourthly, 8am on a Monday morning crammed on a train is not the time to pick up women. You can give me a free doughnut, tell me I look hot in a suit, but you are still unlikely to get my number.  And under no circumstances should you chase me off a train when it’s not your stop. Telling me you work on Warren Street when you have followed me off the train and Kings cross is likely to scare me not flatter. “Turn around, you’re going the wrong direction you weirdo”.

Don’t get me wrong, I fully appreciate the convenience of our faithful underground system, the streets of London were not made for 6inch heels. And of course you do get days where you can indulge in decent conversation with a complete stranger, no one is auditioning for clown school, people raise their hands to stop the spread of disease and men quietly eye up talent.  You can travel from A to B or A to B via C and D without the added obstacles and arrive at your destination satisfied that your journey required little more effort than folding the newspaper into a fan to prevent dehydration.  Have a good trip!

Sarah Butt ©

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