Hello.

I told you I'd be back. Yes!

Sometimes I wish my name was Henry Bumlord.
Other times I'm glad that it's not.

Started walking home from the Dome - in the biggest shower of rain since Doctor Foster went to a popular Midlands town and got trapped in a puddle - to be greeting by that most irritating of sights: that of the bus you need to get already at a bus-stop you know you just won't quite have time to get to, even if you run - so you don't run, you just keep walking, but then the bus remains at the stop for an unusually long time - so long that you think, "Shit, if I'd run, I would have caught it" - so you start to run, at which point the bus fucks off, you arrive at the stop 30 seconds too late and discover there isn't another bus due for half an hour.

I am poor. I cycle and get buses.
I only had 2 pounds so I couldn't get a taxi.

So I walked home.
I walked home in the pissing rain.
And my flat is over 2 miles out of town.
I tried to make up a song to pass the time, but I found that meant I kept not concentrating on where I was going, and hence kept wandering into the road to be almost run over / drowned by Edinburgh's FUCKING INCONSIDERATE drivers splashing their way through their stupid rainy puddle of a city.

I am tired today.

I just threw a soggy piece of cheese across room in an attempt to get it into the bin. It landed in a shoe instead.

I never got onto any of the sports teams at school. I am rubbish at sport.
I particularly hated that stupid craphole of a game 'Netball' - which isn't even a real game, outside of school playgrounds. It is an evil game.
All my friends would go and play 'Netball' at break; running around shouting 'Shoot! Pivot! Goal Attack!' whilst I would gaze sadly at them, they prance in a slightly melancholy fashion over to a deserted part of the playground and write a poem or have a conversation with a goblin.

Goblin Poem - by Christina Plop

Goblin Goblin
Up my food
Eatin chocolate in the nude
Goblin Goblin
Up my tea
In the penetentiary.

Some facts about me:

- I like chicken but I don't like chickens
- My grandad's name was Yusuf Turgut Onac. He was a lovely man whose favourite foodstuff was marmalade and who used to wrap household objects in brown paper and string for no discernible reason.
- I try to be a good person, but at times I find it hard to like the people of Edinburgh, as many of them are a bit ugly and keep trying to run me over
- I am secretly a romantic and an idealist
- I like Keats
- I like Jack but not Meg
- I despise sexism, and get very angry and frustrated when people think it's ok to still hold sexist opinions - eg. 'women aren't as funny as men'.
I think anyone who thinks that is PATHETIC and should ask themselves whether they would ever consider replacing the words 'women' and 'men' in that sentence with 'black people' and 'white people' or 'gay people' and 'straight people' - WHY IS IT OK TO BE SEXIST WHEN IT'S THE GENERAL CONSENSUS THAT ALL OTHER PREJUDICE IS DESPICABLE AND THE SOURCE OF THE MAJORITY OF THE WORLD'S PROBLEMS???
- I like to think the world could be a wonderful place, but then get depressed and think that it's shit.

I'm off now. Time for some water.

Ruth x

Leave a comment • Trackback (0)

Comments:

No Comments for this post yet...

This post has 190 feedbacks awaiting moderation...

Leave a comment:

Name:

Email:

Your email address will not be displayed on this site.

Site/Url:

Your URL will be displayed.

Comment text:

Allowed XHTML tags: <p, ul, ol, li, dl, dt, dd, address, blockquote, ins, del, span, bdo, br, em, strong, dfn, code, samp, kdb, var, cite, abbr, acronym, q, sub, sup, tt, i, b, big, small>

Options:

Auto-BR (Line breaks become <br />)
Remember me (Set cookies for name, email and url)
Allow message form (Allow users to contact you through a message form (your email will NOT be displayed.))

Trackback address for this post:

http://blogs.chortle.co.uk/htsrv/trackback.php/129

Trackbacks:

No Trackbacks for this post yet...

This post has 190 feedbacks awaiting moderation...