Stuck on You

Imagine my surprise today when I picked up my copy of the Metro and saw a familiar face on the cover, grinning back at me. Turns out that a guy I knew at Uni, Dan Glass, now works with Plane Stupid - I'm not really surprised as he was always quite the eco-warrior at University.

He was receiving an award for his work with the group, which was to be presented to him by PM Gordon Brown. Dan managed to utilise the chance to the absolute max by gluing himself to the PM. Check out his interview with CNN by clicking here.

Dan, I salute you!

Ouch.

I think I walked somewhere in the region of 8 miles today, pounding the pavements in very thin shoes and fighting my way through the swathes of tourists that inhabit central London during our summer months. As you'll probably know, I don't like tourists, no matter how good they are for our ailing economy.

As a result of my trekking, I'm knackered and my feet hurt something chronic. This does not include the two parties I went to tonight, which have only added to my exhaustion. I'm going to go and lie in a hot bath now. Gossip tomorrow.

PS still no sign of the sunglasses. Boo.

AWOL, again.

I'm really annoyed. A while ago, my silver sandals disappeared two weeks after I had re-discovered them and put them in a supposedly safe place. This week, it's the turn of my yellow sunglasses. We're all heading off to Truck Fest* and they're key to my well being.

They're a rare breed in that they don't squeeze my head and give me brain ache when I wear them for too long, unlike the majority of my other sunglasses. They are awesome 80s style plastic aviators and I know I could go buy another pair somewhere like Topshop but it won't be the same and I know that the second I do, the AWOL ones will appear.

I am therefore determined to hunt through every handbag that I've worn in the last two months in order to find them. I will not give up, as I have had to do with the sandals. I will find this missing piece from the puzzle of my wardrobe, even if it takes the rest of the week.

Speaking of festival related activities, I was really impressed when I nipped into the big Tesco near Ikea (where I'd been to buy a crate of delicious Kopparberg) and found myself walking out with a new sleeping bag, inflatable camping mattress and a bubble gun amongst other purchases, all for £30. I was tempted to buy a new tent but common sense won out on that one. At least this year we won't have giant boulders digging into our spines.

*NB: truck fest has nothing to do with trucks, cars or any other vehicular activity.

Minor Grievance #372

So, my sunny mood could only last so long and appropriately enough disappeared as soon as the actual sun did and the skies opened up. One thing I will never understand is why people in London insist on carrying giant umbrellas in town. I could forgive it if there were four people jammed underneath it but when there's one very smug banker under an umbrella with a diameter of 2 metres, I begin to see red.

These tossers take up the entire pavement as they stroll slowly along while everyone has to veer sharply out of their way for fear of having an eye poked out by a spoke and ends up in six inches of flooded gutter water.

And then, they get on the tube and insist on carrying the thing under their arm with the sharp pointy metal capped bit sticking out a foot behind them. And of course, they forget about this potential weapon and either swing round and inevitably clock you square in the face (particularly if you're short like me) or pump it with great vigour as they walk, causing those behind them to do a dodging dance the entire way.

Walking to and from various stations today, I was almost stabbed six times, got smacked in the shoulder and then got stuck behind a banking moron who was braying into his crackberry about his lovely weekend in the Cotswolds while twirling his navy and maroon golfing umbrella in his hand, spraying all those around him with even more rain water. But he was dry, so that's okay.

People, if you live in a city, buy a small folding umbrella. Not only will you no longer have the threat of litigation that knocking someone's front teeth out brings looming over you; you will also cease to be a twat in my eyes.

Twenty eight three days later

So, it's been three weeks since I last posted, the night before I started my new job. I hate to gush but for pretty much all of it, I love it. I'm sorry, I realise that my happiness is probably incredibly boring to the rest of the world so console yourselves that the accounts department at my new employer is crap. I've been driving myself even deeper into debt than my soon-to-be-forcefully-reduced overdraft allows until they finally pay me. It's weird to think that I'm actually getting paid an actual wage rather than expenses or at best, minimum wage. Except, it still hasn't happened so I guess technically I'm still working for free.

I've been forced to studiously avoid all shops and when I wore evil shoes to work the other day, I was in the horrible position of not being able to afford some cheap replacements on my lunch break and had to suffer painful painful shoes all day. I never thought Birkenstocks could drive me to rage but apparently it's possible. Let's just say I won't be wearing those any time soon again.

But if painful shoes is the worst to happen to me this week, I'd like to think it's been a good one. In other news, I went to see John Mayer last week at Brixton Academy. Never have I witness a more placid crowd, all politely sipping Cider, swaying gently and recording the entire thing on their mobiles. As I was too. And as soon as I find all of the appropriate cables, I too will be boring you with the out of focus footage.

Ooh you lucky people, so much to look forward to!