Thursday, 19th May, 2005

Manchester Piccadilly: 7:42pm

Siobhan runs down the stairs, laden with (a) cat food, (b) wine, (c) her PowerBook (that she's pilfered from work pretending that she "needs it"), (d) nineteen Marlboro Reds in a packet (e) one Marlboro Red (as yet, unlit) in her mouth...

...trips over a Lucozade bottle that someone has dropped on the platform, and twists her ankle.

Manchester Piccadilly: 7:44pm

Siobhan gets told off by a guard for smoking a cigarette in the open air and stubbing out the butt on the platform with her foot.

"This is a no-smoking station. You shouldn't be littering"

Now, were I a litigious person, I'd sue his ass off for not clearing away a potential death trap (herein after referred to as "the Lucozade bottle") away from the bottom of the stairs, the same death trap that has now left me with an extra ache on the already railway-inspired ache in my foot.

But I'm not a litigious person. I am, in fact, a very lovely person who's prone to apologizing profusely to people who are being arseholes, or indeed, little Hitlers.

...

Sorry Were you expecting more? I'm in the middle of Assessments at the moment, and consequently not in a writing mood. I had a vague notion that I was going to write an entry tonight, entitled "Obligatory Eurovision Post", all about how Assessment is just like the voting process in the Eurovision Song Contest (old allies, making odd votes for each other — people engaged with 'stripes' agreeing with each other in clandestine meetings behind closed doors) ... but I thought better of it

I figured, that (a) no-one really cares, and (b) you're probably all watching telly anyway

Know What I'd Really Like To Do?

I would really like to dance. But not just 'dance' (and especially not in the "modern" sense of the word), I'd like to dance muy little (and I think we can all agree, it is little) arse off to a stunning set of Trance music, punctuated only by my own stripes.

Actually, this is The Thing That I Do™ when no-one else is looking — I dance round my studio (which, as Kath will atest, isn't exactly big enough to swing a cat around (I've tried), let alone dance round — but I try )

Sorry, this is just an extension of a thougt I had earlier — I'd really like to share with everyone the things that my students are doing right now — I might put them on my boy-site, and share them that way.

(I'm drunk. Can you tell?)

My House: 7:46am

Ah. I shouldn't actually be here — I should have got up and left the house an hour ago.

Never mind — I suppose that's what you get when you trust your waking-up to a quite quiet radio and Sarah Kennedy

Fortunately, there's a train at 9.30 that'll get me to work in plenty of time

I just thought though, that I'd mention that in my hazy OMG-I've-overslept stumbling round the bedroom this morning, I happened to notice that I'd been left a little present by Tish...

...the poor bunny rabbit didn't stand a chance

a radio 4 listener

Oh, I am — but not in the mornings. As I've mentioned before, John Humphries shouting at people is not something I want to wake up to. I prefer to be eased into the day, with happiness and soft, mellow ramblings, not barked into awakeness with "answer the question, Minister!"

Plus, at 6am, I really don't want to be reminded just how fucked-up the world is.

(Whoops I seemed to have messed up there a bit. I'll fix it when I get home...)

At gone 7.45 in the evening? Lightweight.

In my defence, I did write that a lot later — at about midnight in fact. And I started at 4pm

Famous Trannie: "Yes, that's why I'm not sweeping floors like you"

Mwah ha ha ha ha ha

That's priceless! Would this famous trannie happen to be someone I might have humiliated myself in front of almost exactly a year ago by any chance?