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!