The Christmas adverts have kicked in- and the ‘event’ ones like John Lewis etc. will be launching over the next few days.
The supermarkets have got all their tat out already, the cards, mince pies, chocolates etc., and even the fucking Christmas trees in the entrances, for shit’s sake.
Of course, the TV schedules are filling up with the standard reality TV run-ups, the BBC’s “Strictly” and ITV’s “X-Factor”.
Seven weeks or so to go, and it’ll be over for another nine months or so. In the meantime, D4D will be brought to you courtesy of the words “For”, “Fuck’s” and “Sake”. As usual.
With last week’s time in London, I did a lot of walking (as usual)
On the conference days, I was getting in to London early (before the main rush hour kicked in) and then had the option to grab a tube down to Charing Cross and walk from there to the venue, or say sod it, and walk the whole thing from Euston to Westminster. (And then back in the evening, of course)
The first day, I opted for the Tube down, so I was there in plenty of time. That was easy, and once we were done for the day I walked back up, feeling the need for movement, having been sat for 95% of the day – I needed that walk! For the second day, I walked down in the morning, and back up once we were done. And finally, on the Saturday I walked down, but grabbed the tube back up to Euston, as it was late and I didn’t fancy waiting for the final Train of the Damned.
But on each of those longer walks, I kept finding myself thinking about other people, and just how slow they are. And wondering just how people manage to live so slowly.
I walk fast, I know. Well, to me I walk at normal speed, and everyone else is just Slow – but I know that really means I walk fast! I consistently average at least 4mph – even when I think I’m dawdling along, knowing I’ve got plenty of time. Indeed, when I think I’m dawdling and going slow, I tend to be walking even faster than usual. But that’s just another weirdness of self-perception.
Regardless though, most people are just Slower. In pace, but also in reaction times – even when they look directly at me, they don’t seem to realise the speed I’m going, and still drift out in front of me, or just stop to do something else, or whatever. It’s amazing in many ways – not least that they’ve definitely got no concept of momentum and inertia, of what’ll happen if I do decide to keep going, and walk into them rather than permanently being the one to avoid, dodge, and get out of their way. By any stretch of the imagination, I’m a FMFB and could easily damage just about any of them, simply through colliding at speed.
Anyway, it always surprises me a bit, just how slow the people around me are. It gets tiring to keep on avoiding people, swerving and carving through crowds of slower people who don’t even realise I’m blasting through until I’m already past, staying aware of everything around me (including traffic when I have to go into the gutter to get past a whole pavement-width crowd of plodders) and all the possibilities.
It makes me wonder just what my speed would be in empty streets, to be honest. Although I do also speed up when I get annoyed by people, so it’s possible it would stay about the same.
Anyway, it meant I did a lot of walking over the last week, which is never a bad thing.
It’s been another quiet week round here – mainly because of a truly vicious dose of self-inflicted food-poisoning. Admittedly, some of that is also because I’ve pretty much given up on daily updates/posts these days – but for purposes of this post, it’s the food-poisoning.
It’s my own fault – the chicken I’d cooked for the proper time etc. turned out to be slightly less done than it should’ve been, and I tempted the gods of shit and puke by thinking “Oh well, I’ve eaten some of it already, I’m sure I’ll be fine”. Oh how wrong I was.
Wednesday evening I was at a tech event, and felt rotten. I left early, went home, and was in bed by half-eight. It wasn’t a great night, with the combination of regular wake-ups due to sharp belly-ache, and ended up puking what felt like half my body weight at about 4am.
Thursday was pretty much a write-off, and found me hugely sleepy. And, safe to say, squelchy.
That situation hung around through Friday, although I was doing better until the evening when we had a real resurgence through into Saturday morning.
Since then, it’s been improving – I was out on Saturday anyway, and Immodiummed myself to the eyeballs, and got through that event, came home, and squelched again.
Thankfully, today has been better, with no incidents to report – we may actually be through it now. I certainly hope so – this week’s a busy one, and I can do without being incapacitated for any of it!
Why is it that on just about every TV competition show – X-Factor, Masterchef, Bake Off, whatever – when it comes to the semi-finals, one of the hosts always has to say
Any one of these people could win it
Of course they fucking could, they’re in the semi-sodding-final. Stop stating the bloody obvious, you fatuous bollocks-spouting cretins.
On Sunday, I travelled down to Reading, lending immoral support to a friend who was running the Reading Half Marathon. (and did bloody well!) It was her first time running it, and I was at the end of the last hill of the run, on one of the main junctions. As it was, I got to stand next to a couple who were the most unremittingly negative people I’ve listened to since my grandparents were around. *Everything* was bad. (I bet they read the Daily Mail. And agree with it)
Highlights were :…
“Well, I won’t be pleased for her if she’s running it this slowly” and “These people in fancy dress are just detracting from the seriousness of the race” Yes, they seriously said that – and with no sense of humour whatsoever.
However, my absolute favourite was her saying to him “What’s the next time marker?” and he responded “The last one was 1hr 55, so the next will be 1hr 60” (or two hours, as it’s known to most sane people) and said in all seriousness, not a stupid comment like I’d do. Pompous bellend.
The finale was when other people appeared and stood in their oh-so-precious sightline, to which he tutted loudly, and complained (loudly) about how some people were so selfish, it was outrageous, just turning up and standing in front of others. (Bear in mind that they could’ve moved forwards too, due to there being loads of room. But no, that would’ve been far too understanding)
I think my “muttered” comment of “Well, you could always fuck off” may* (*bloody well was) have been heard, as they tutted and sodded off quite soon afterwards.
It’s February 29th, Leap Day
Only four years ’til the next one…
And lo, already we’re a month through 2016. How time flies when you’re having fun, and all that rot.
Of course, with it being February we’re now going to be pummeled for the next couple of weeks about all the romantic shite you can do on the 14th – and on no other day, according to marketing twerds – and all that gubbins.
I’m still really tempted to book a table for a meal, and then go on my own, looking really sad as if I’ve been dumped or the other person hasn’t made it, and just generally messing with the whole thing for everyone around me…