Despair is …
… having to listen to some chav’s [shite] music on the bus despite the fact that I’m listening to my own [groovy] sounds and sitting about seven seats in front of him
… having to listen to the racist comments of silly little fourteen year old boys who think that it’s ok to be offensive because “they all deserve it anyway”
… waking up at seven in the morning [brrr and grrr]
… gossiping about the state of the educational establishment I work in and the way that the Head of Centre is rather bullysome
… having to stand up in front of countless strangers, and walk past them, everytime I get off the bus [they stare at me – I know that they’re just waiting for me to stumble so they can have a good giggle] – *makes a paranoid face*
… my Secret Santa gift for some chap at work not yet turning up and I need it for Friday [that’ll learn me … Internet shopping? Pah!]
… getting my photo taken in a photo booth so that I can send off for my provisional driving license – I look like I have five o’clock shadow. It’s most irksome. And I have visions of them sending the picture back and asking for proof that I’m a female. Humph.
But Happiness is …
… being indulgent and ordering tickets to see REM in Gip next summer. Ok, so we haven’t ordered them yet. I suspect that the price of the tickets does warrant a little we-have-to-think-about-this-first but I shall keep asking The Blokey if he’s booked them yet? until the moment I go to bed.
Time to indulge in some Shape Mousse and a jolly good laugh in front of the Tellybox.
please God bless the invincible cramps that possess me xxx Elsabeth
Pssst: He books them as we speak … *happy dance*