Honk if you...

After years of dropping my phone, spilling my coffee and (on more than one occasion) actually falling over, I have yet to understand what motivates van drivers to greet their female counterparts with a blaring honk first thing in the morning.

Exactly what message are they trying to get across? Is the aim to embarass? Or to serve as a gentle reminder, just incase a member of the female species happens to have not noticed her ample busom.

Some would tell us that we should be flattered. Which would be easy were it not for the balding, tatooed, Mackenzie-wearing specimens sitting behind the wheel.

Perhaps we should look back for a more Darwinian explanation. Maybe the honking of a horn is an involuntary projection of all the pent-up energy residing in their nether-regions? Or perpaps, on seeing an attractive female, they simply revert back to an ape-like form and, unable to speak, flail their limbs around with their tongues hanging out as a sign of happy appreciation.

But maybe I am being unfair. After all, I have paid no consideration to the time constraint of the situation. Perhaps, given the chance to stop and talk, the van drivers of today would actually be all charm and politeness. Maybe the 'honk' is their very succinct way of saying "My, how radiant you look this morning; all poise and grace. I simply must take you out to dinner."

Or maybe not.

Global Freezing

It’s the beginning of November and already the penetrable cold and frost of England has reduced even the strongest immune systems to sorry, sniveling messes. Apparently, 80% of the country is suffering from a cold and the moment, which is plainly discernable by the vulgar and incessant sound of people hocking back mucus each morning like some breed of farm animal. Every time I hear that appauling sound I have to question whether people really do think it is acceptable, or whether there is just an element of using tissues that they have not yet mastered.

But back to my point. So what happened to global warming? Nobody seems to be quite as concerned about the plight of the polar ice caps when they are shivering under eight layers of clothing, in order to put off using the heating that little while longer. In fact, given the current climate, I bet a number of people are thinking that the less bloody ice there is in this world the better.

I think the fact that we have just experienced snow in October indicates that perhaps the ‘threat’ of global warming was indeed a fraud: a panic to keep us safely occupied during the summer months, which has now been replaced with ‘the recession’ to keep us on our toes throughout winter.

I wonder what delightful moral panic they will conjure up for January. It will have to be Christmas-related. I’m hedging my bets on child obesity.

07.58 to The South Pole

It seems that fancy dress is all the rage at present, South of the Thames. Following my encounter with Batman & Co (see post dated 19th Sept), last week I found myself sharing the platform with an adult-sized penguin.

This particular penguin was in fact raising money for a children's hospice, which made her instantly more likeable, and excused for blocking my exit path somewhat. So as I passed I gave her an encouraging smile, while inwardly feeling sure that others would not be so gracious. But then, with one brilliant sentence, she knocked the ball out of the park.

With a roll of her eyes she dropped her shoulders and sighed a little too audibly "I really pulled the short straw this morning". And that was it. Nobody could argue. It was 8am, freezing cold, and she was facing a stampede of commuters dressed as a pengiun. The hilarity of this truth and the poor penguin's misfortune brought a smile to all who heard, and had them emptying their pockets in no time.

Welcome to the home of...

I can’t help but think that South West Trains might have done something to anger their marketing team.

You may have noticed that some platform signs promote the particular station as ‘the home of Hampton Court Palace’ or some other equally prestigious landmark. However, Clapham Junction’s claim to fame reads: ‘Britain’s Busiest Rail Station’. Now, it may be just me, but I would’ve thought that busyness is not a characteristic that one generally looks for in a station. In fact, if prior to disembarking someone told me that this was the busiest station in Britain, I would much sooner endure another two miles of the foul-smelling specimen sitting beside me, get off at the next station, and hail a cab.

Perhaps a pay rise is in order, before we find ourselves in 'The home of Britan's highest levels of knife crime'.

Political Trenchcoats

For those of you who might be alarmed at my broaching a political topic in this post, I assure you it is on a very shallow level only. And those of you who know me, or have attempted to explain to me what the Chancellor of the Exchequer does, will be able to anticipate this.

This post was inspired by my beautiful friend Suzannah who, while watching David Cameron's address broadcasted live to the entire country commented: "And I get nervous just having to decide the top 10 trenchcoats of the season."

I found myself considering how easy it is to forget the weight of responsibility lying in the hands of our political forerunners. And for once my cynical side took an uncharacteristic step down, and left me feeling genuinely happy about the positive reaction David received following his speech. Even his on-stage kiss with Samantha appeared heartfelt. And, lets be honest, much more aesthetically pleasing than watching some other political firgures lip-locked.

Happy late summer songs

Inspired by the Indian Summer we are enjoying presently, here are two of my favourite songs of the moment. I hope they will brighten your day as they have done mine :)

Jason Mraz 'I'm Yours' - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ki61e3zFPks

Colby Caillat 'Bubbly' - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2PWfB4lurT4

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

I spotted my first advent calendar this week. Which confirms that the rediculously early Christmas preparation period has started even sooner this year.

It was in M&S (who, as one of the more sensible retailers, really should have known better), and what was possibly more bizzare than than seeing advent calendars in September, were the numerous variations in style, including a Santa scene worthy of the Coca Cola adverts, and a reindeer that looked neither cute nor sane. Then later on in the day, what did I find in Somerfield but Christmas hats, Christmas tree chocolates…..and tinsel. Who buys tinsel in September!? I mean really, how long can it take to decorate a tree? Are people stocking up on red felt hats and chocolate now, on the off chance that nobody will think to produce them in December?

Don’t get me wrong, I am an avid promoter of Christmas cheer, and the sooner the better is my motto (I have even been known to play Christmas songs as early as September, risking the most serious threat of being evicted by my flatmates). But we all know what stale chocolate tastes like, and nobody wants to wake up to that on Christmas Eve.

A Capital Offence

Nothing tops off a long day at work, like realising you only have enough change in your purse to buy two peppers to go with the semi-soft jacket potato waiting at home for you...Except adding totally uncalled for public degredation to the situation.

It was in my local convenience store. In the standard consumer fashion, I picked up two large (and may I add shrivelled) red peppers, put them in the brown paper bag provided, and made my way to the till. After standing in line for a couple of minutes, I reached the desk clerk, who requested £1.64 and held out his hand, awaiting payment. So I started counting out my money (in 10's and 20's by the way - nothing smaller) and then it happened. As I picked up my fifth 20p coin...he clicked at me. The way that people click their fingers at waiters in Spain. Or at dogs. I was totally horrified and equally dumbstruck. Had that really just happened?

Unable to speak, let alone come back with a witty retort, I hurriedly conformed to his non-verbal request, thrust the offending peppers into my bag, and bolted.

They've come to save the world...if the world would look up from their Blackberrys

Londoner's will never cease to amaze me. As I sauntered out of East Putney station at 8.30 this morning, three fully grown men strolled past me, fully clad in lycra superhero costumes. But what I found more astounding than sharing my commute with Superman, Spiderman and Batman, was that nobody else seemed to bat an eyelid! It's a sad day when people become so absorbed and hurried that even a superhero reading the metro doesn't warrant a double take.

Don't Judge a Reader by her Book Cover

It's now becoming really tough to resist punching the next person to give me 'that look'.

Almost every morning when I pull out my current installment of chick-lit genius, there is some smug literature-snob reading Orwell or Bronte who, on seeing that my book cover is doused in pinks and purples, gives me that almost pitying look which says "Oh I see, you're not a REAL reader".

And it's even worse when they exchange this look with ANOTHER literature-snob! It's as if I'm not even there! Like when a child struggles to put their shoes on the wrong way round and onlookers give that look that says "Bless her, she doesn't know any better...but at least she's trying".

But you know, who can blame them really? I mean, chick-lit IS full of pretty pictures and simplified vocabulary. I think the text is even enlarged, just incase there's a particularly tricky word and we have to sound it out.

I wonder if I could get a T-Shirt printed that says: "I've got a degree!!"...

10 Interesting things about Me...

Before you get the wrong impression, I was actually requested to do this - I'm not just boasting about how wonderfully interesting I am. Actually, when asked to compile this list as part of the initiation process at my job, I was confronted with the reality that thinking of 10 interesting things might actually be pushing it. I'm not one of these incredibly spontaneous people who go base jumping or scuba diving. Don't get me wrong, I'm not inactive, I'm just not sure if what I've got to tell will pe particularly riveting.

I believe there are three underlying rules surrounding this type of activity. Firstly, a person's revelations need to be imaginative. For example, "I enjoy singing" does not tell the reader a great deal. In comparison, "I have spent 2 years and £800 on singing lessons...and I am still no good", might not be 100% true, but it's a bit more interesting and adds some humour. Which is the second rule - if you can, try to make your answers amusing. Everyone loves a joker. However, they do not love a fraud - so if you're just not funny, I would steer clear. Thirdly, revelations should be well selected, and not overly truthful...there is a fine line between informative and inappropriate. For example, "I fantasise about George Clooney" is fine. "I fantasise about my friend's Dad" is not. You get the picture.

So obviously, I have just been stalling for time and have now run out of relevant tips, so here it goes...

1. I have climbed the highest mountain in England (Scarfell Pike - not Snowdon unfortunately, which is in Wales and would have been a bit more impressive).
2. I sing at every given opportunity.
3. I don't like cheese (Unless it's on Pizza - because who doesn't like Pizza?)
4. I make my own cards (for other people, not for me!)
5. I am trying to write a book (but so far have only bought an expensive notepad from Paperchase)
6. Under no circumstances should I be allowed near Sambuca
7. I am a terrible driver and don't know my registration number
8. My bedroom at home is painted turquoise, lime green and orange as a result of an ill-advised teenage whim
9. I have very small ears
10. I don't know where any countries are. No really. None.

And I was doing so well...

While I do have a tendency to embarass myself fairly frequently going about my day-to-day life, I consider it a great achievement to have managed it twice before 9am. As I rose from my seat to join the cattle disembarking from the train, and performed the obligatory backward glance to check I hadn't left anything, I found myself in that one humiliating situation that everyone suffers at some point. Nope, I don't mean odd socks or severely laddered tights - I'm talking about discovering the uneccesarily large price tag still hanging off my new coat, which I had been proudly strutting around in for 35minutes. I'm sure this isn't so bad for the lucky few with the disposable income to buy a £250 Chanel Jacket or a £395 Louis Vuitton Trenchcoat. Unfortunately, my price tag boasted that I had spent all of £49.99 on one of H&M's finest. But on the bright side, at least it wasn't Primark. So, blushing horribly, I yanked the price tag from my sleeve and attempted to proceed to the platform looking non-plussed and nonchalant.



Five minutes later, having almost recovered from the price tag incident, I was thrilled when it seemed that Karma had dealt me a welcome ego-boost, in the form of a compliment from a stranger. While queueing for the stairs, I heard a sweet, sincere voice gush "Ooooh, what lovely shoes". Given that the size 5 shoes had turned my size 6 feet almost purple, it was reassuring to hear that I was suffering for a cause. A smug grin crept across my face and, chin lifted, I turned to give my admirer a gracious smile. She was an elderly lady, being supported by a younger, buxom brunette. As I started to thank her for the compliment, I realised that her eyeline was not actually directed at MY shoes, but rather about a foot to the right...where a giggling young girl in a buggy donned a pair of tiny black patent shoes with pink flower embroidery. "Yes, they're darling aren't they?" the brunette replied. Fantastic. Out-styled by a two year old.

Observations...

So, for the past three days I've been working in London...and partaking in the wonderful journey that is the commute. Things I've observed so far include...

1) Don't buy cheap Biros. You will leave work covered in ink, which is particularly difficult to remove from nails without destroying the lovely (albeit slightly rushed) self-manicure you did last night.
2) Resisting the 6pm aroma of the Pastry Co. at Wimbledon is one of the most difficult feats in the world. Almost as difficult as trying not to elbow the person reading your paper over your shoulder.

Escalators

I’ve always wondered why the handrails on the tube escalators move that little bit quicker than the escalator itself. On more than one occasion I have found myself almost hugging the person ahead of me. All it takes is a thirty second daydream and you can find yourself seriously crossing the boundaries of appropriate social proxemics.

Perhaps it’s a ploy to remind us that we really shouldn’t be touching the handrails of the London underground anyway…

Well done London!

Isn't it fantastic when the weatherman's wrong? Forecast: Rain and clouds......Reality: Not one cloud in the sky! Brilliant!

And may I congratulate all of those 8am tube riders who this morning managed to re-mould their standard I-hate-this-commute-and-my-boring-life scowls and actually smile. I believe I even saw someone laughing. Although, it was due to an unsuspecting blonde being launched forwards as a District Line train slammed to a halt at Kensington High Street. But there really is nothing funnier than someone else falling over. You have to appreciate English humour.

Well done London - Keep it up!

As if public transport isn't stressful enough...

As if riding a packed bus every morning isn't horrifying enough, I now, on a daily basis, find myself surrounded by those frustrating people who insist on playing their ipods so loudly that they might as well just ditch the headphones and go the whole hog, by carrying a radio around with them 'rasta' style. Obviously, being British, I never venture to do anything about it. Although I do distribute my fair share of huffing and evil glares.

But seriously, what is the point? Not only are they distracting me from half an hour of perfectly good reading time, they must be savaging their ear drums. Surely people's playlists still consist of some S-Club 7 worthy cheese or something equally embarassing enough to keep the sound as quiet as possible. But I guess that's the point isn't it? Ipods are the new culture symbol (or so I hear); the idea being that what you listen to says something about who you are. I guess it does explain the uncomfortable phemonemon that is men, way past the acceptable age, blaring Rhianna on the tube in the hope of sounding 'hip'. Gone are the good old days of walkmans and boyzone (or so we had hoped, but that's for another post). I might sound like my Mum, but maybe this time she's got it right.

The First Post

Hello all you wonderful people. It's been my experience that the first post should contain some sentiments regarding the deep and meaningful reasons for starting a blog. My reasons are neither deep nor meaningful...simply that my other blog is more of a ranting-arena (as I am sure this will be utlimately). But for the moment I will endeavour to limit this one to simple observations about life in London, as opposed to male-directed abuse or multiple musings as to why Nandos STILL dont offer a delivery service.

So here it goes...wish me luck!