There are all sorts of stories on the news about how people with mental health problems injure, or even kill, others.  So it’s not very nice having to sit on a bus listening to someone say such things as Fuck it, I’ll kill you.  It’s actually rather scary and suffice to say I sat on the bus clutching my phone with visions whirling around my head concerning the scary man, knives and some little children who got on at one point. 

Not nice.  My imagination must stop being so horribly fertile.

And speaking of the bus why is it that the bus is arriving less full than usual in the mornings and arriving at the place where I want to get off a little quicker than it ever has before?  It’s been happening all week.  It does rather freak me out.  I want to go back to the days where the bus was always late and packed to the rafters.  I do love normality and routine. I feel like a little child lost on a packed beach in the middle of a swelteringly hot summer when things start changing.  Which is silly because my timetable changes every other day at work … 

And incidentally I did get lost on a beach when I was about four or five.  The Baby Brother once got lost in Woolworth’s.  Bless his little cotton socks. 

Oh pants.  It must surely be time to snuggle up with Mr Norrell and reflect on a life where today I didn’t have to say Thank You to anyone.

I must phone Mother.

This reminds me that this morning I was reading the news on Ceefax and saw a report about non-English speakers choosing English words that they like.  Apparently mother was top of the list.  I think.  And non-English speakers also like flabbergasted.  I like flabbergasted too.  But I rarely use it.  I must endeavour to try to use it tomorrow.  Perhaps I should do so around some students.  That will make them look at me in shock and ask what language I’m speaking.  To confuse them is always comical. 

Snuggle Puppies …

please God bless the people over the pond who must give thanks and eat too much till they get sick xxx Elsabeth



  1. Ah. I usually inch away slowly while keeping my eye on them, but diverting direct eye contact. The crazies don’t appreciate being looked upon. However, they themselves feel entitled to staring at others.
    One of my many crazy-person-on-bus experiences happened with a rather normal looking middle aged woman. She was knitting and I sat behind her on the bus. She turned around and stared at me the entire time.
    We had a screaming fight because I asked in my Martha Stewart voice if there was a problem and she said she had a right to look but why was I sitting there and I said, “it’s a free country.”
    I realized later when I saw her sitting on the subway steps, knitting and muttering to herself–that she was not in the right state of mind.
    Don’t worry. It’s not your imagination. I was imagining her stabbing me with her knitting needles the entire time and attempting not to piss her off as she started twitching.

  2. I like fisticuffs.  And globular.  And, well a lot of words.
    Well, I ate a lot but did not get sick.  (Yet.)  And to be honest I wasn’t very thankful.  Hmm.  I have 30 more minutes.  Let’s see…I am thankful that I have money coming in every week even though I am not in a job I want to be.
    There. That does it.

  3. Hmmm…I have a student that threatens to kill at least one of his classmates once a day. Sad, really. The other kids they are so used to it that they don’t even flinch any more.

    A while ago I rather enjoyed watching Graham Norton’s show and started using “gobsmacked.” Funny reactions

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