I don’t want to be a sour puss, I’d rather just get on with life and ignore all the numpties and the idiots in this world, but there are just so many of them about. It’s hard to go from A-B or even just to sit in your own front room without someone giving your blood pressure a little nudge.
E-cigs annoy me. I was waiting for my prescription the other day and there on the counter the pharmacist was selling e-cigs. Well hello, it’s bloody nicotine, just like the cigarettes. So why is it that they now hide the cigarettes behind a screen in the shops but not e-cigs. Where’s the difference?
“But they are not as harmful as cigarettes.”
No, no, not at all. They don’t have the sulfer or whatever and the carbomonogomies, or whatever, it’s just pure liquid gunk and nicotine, it has to be better for you. And don’t give me this, there’s no secondary inhalation by innocent people sitting in the same room. I can smell it and as far as I’m concerned, anything that I can smell is getting up my nose which means I’m inhaling it. It is not good for me, and don’t mention using them in cars or where there are children. And watch out folks the government are gonna want their tenner’s worth very soon, watch the tax rise on them. However, I do hear tell that cigarettes aren’t cheap.
I’m not a disgruntled ex-smoker, not at all. In fact, when I smoked I hated the idea of breathing in someone else’s smoke, my own was enough. And I wholeheartedly agreed with the ban on cigarettes in public places.
So there I am waiting at the counter for my prescription when this young lady walks past, in the supermarket, vaping. I mean what a blood cheek. But I was so good, I just ignored it, and gave her “THE LOOK”, that’s the I’m older than 35 and I have a right to moan at you silently from within, look.
It was noted and the assistant asked her to put it away.
Dog owners annoy me. I have two dogs, they are annoying in themselves and this morning I was out in the piddling rain to get them walked, because I had an appointment at 9am. But dog owners are like parents. You get those that are responsible and those that you feel like wrapping the dog lead around their throat and throttling them. There are a lot of dogs out there that would no doubt love to watch me do that to their owners. I left the supermarket, still munching on the irritation of the female vapourer, not the moth variety, the e-cig type, and there it was, the idiot dog owner.
He was standing outside the supermarket with his young and ill trainer, mixed breed dog, it’s a dog, not a cocker poodle, not a highbred, cross bred, pedigree enhanced, waiting for the kennel club to recognise it, super genetically engineered uber canine, it’s a mutt. How I would have loved to have put a noose around that man’s neck and yanked him back every time he tried to move. This poor thing was up on his hind legs with a choke chain around his neck. The bloke was letting him get so far and then pulling violently on the lead, yanking the poor pup off the ground. The dog was cowering and trying to get away and I wanted to rescue it, but I didn’t, yet again I ignored the urge to do bodily harm to a complete stranger and tried to accept that it wasn’t anything to do with me. Just as I turned away this woman grabbed her son by the arm and yanked him off the ground before bellowing abuse at him, but I ignored it, I accepted that it was her child to raise as she saw fit.
Man, I was doing well.
Car drivers. Yep, I’m one as well and I never, ever get irate at anyone, just a tad maybe, well a bit more than a tad. Do you know what irritates me more than anything else about car drivers, ESP. I know it’s amazing isn’t it, to think that every other road user has this ability to read minds. I think we should all do our lottery on line on our phones whilst we are driving. What? We’re not allowed to use our phones, it’s illegal, really, no, you don’t say, I never knew that. Have I seen the campaigns and the adverts? Well yes, but that doesn’t apply around here, not to everyone, does it. You mean to tell me, that the BMW driver has to comply to the law as well as use indicators, how novel!
The junction is clearly marked, two lanes, the left one goes left and straight on, the right one, well take a guess. If you thought that the right lane was there to enable you to do exactly as you pleased, despite the bloody great white arrow painted on the ground which is crooked to the right, then you must drive a white BMW. Straight on she went, the dust I was saving for future generations of car cleaners whisked cleanly off my car door as she, oh yes it was a she, sped forward. I growled and employed the Profane dictionary of abuse, but I ignored her, I didn’t pull up beside her in the car park and proceed to strip her skin off, layer by layer, nor drag her to the junction and rub her nose in the tarmac to show her which way the arrow was pointing. No I stayed calm, and carried on with my day.
Chisits. At this point I must explain that everywhere throughout this beautiful country, we have expressions that are only understood by the natives. In Dunstable, they uble. It’s Dunstabubble, and people are capabubble. In Lincolnshire, if you’re a bit of an ugly bugger, you’re a moose. Then there are Grockles and Chisits. Lincolnshire has Chisits. They are the holiday makers that go around picking everything up and keep saying, “how much chisit?”
I like the shops that are cheap and cheerful, go on be honest, we all do. But Chisits get my goat. There you are in an aisle designed by a stick insect trying to reach the top shelf which is only reachable if you are six foot six or wearing platform shoes with crankabubble heels, when they stop. They pick up an item, they look around and they start. First, they explain what they have, how their Aunt Bessie has one, how good the item is, what they can, could and will do with it, and then they ask the question.
“How much chisist?”
It says on the label.
It tells you on the label.
“I’ll have to ask.”
Read the label.
“I can’t see anyone about.”
Look at the damned label.
So there I was, my internal screaming system shouting, read the fluffing label, and the big sign above the shelf and the strip on the shelf. It says, £4.99. Whilst calmly I leaned over and said, “Excuse me, it’s £4.99, look it’s written on the label.”
I was hoping this would part the waves between the three larger than average women that made up the dam in the aisle, but no, it was like a signal to argue.
“Well I’m not paying that, for it.”
“How much did she say it was?”
“What that one, are you sure?”
I turned away, planning to double back and approach the aisle from the other direction. “Bloody Chisits,” I mumbled under my breath, but I ignored my feelings and carried on.
I reached home, exhausted, feeling as though I had just spent the day on an expedition to the inner jungles of some dark, dismal, distant planet, where everyone spoke a different language and things were left not right and up not down.
You must be joking.
Really, you think I’m up to it.
I decided to make the effort. An easy meal. I tried to employ the acceptance and responsibility rules I live by. I have to accept the idiots in this World, I am the only one responsible for my reaction to the emotions they make me feel.
After a couple of Ommmiddypardnees, I was ready for anything. Anything that is apart from Mark.
I love Mark, but he is my husband. He is the one person that I am supposed to get along with. No, really, we are supposed to like our loved ones and understand them?
So I can accept that he hasn’t put his dirty undies in the wash, nor hung up his wet towel this morning, nor taken down his coffee cup. I don’t have to….
The front door opened and I started down the stairs, “why can’t you just…..”
Isn’t it amazing how I can watch all the idiots in this World and ignore them, but I verbally mermalise my husband for the silliest things.
I would just like to take this opportunity to say sorry to my husband for taking out on you a day of frustration. And Thank you for the flowers that you bought for me. I didn’t see that coming!