mmm

Ja, so it's June already

I uh... I don't - six months in and I've run out of bloggin steam. This will be very short.

Drinking is going terribly (i.e. there has been a lot of drinking) but on the plus side I've not done anything inutterably stupid whilst under the influence lately so, yunno, that is a step. Having said that I'm about to go on a works do with added karaoke which definitely has the capacity to end in tears.

I went on my sisters hen weekend which was crazy crazy and so much fun - I hope she enjoyed it as much as I did but how can she have possibly when I got to gatecrash a gig and play tambourine with a bemused guitarist/singer. HA HA! It was great!

We finally got Osc his fish which is still miraculously alive and I am getting quite attached to. He swims up to the top of the tank when you approach cos he thinks he might get fed, which has led to me concluding he is a sort of superior, intelligent goldfish. His name is Swishy McDishy. Tho he could easily be a girl.

I'd almost completely given up thinking about the novel or doing anything about it then I went to Writers Group on Sunday and I feel all sort of bouyed up. It IS funny and it is commercial (I think) so yeah just write the damn thing already. I entered the Poetry London competition with a poem that RHYMES so am not really expecting to place but I just feel a bit like I've not been writing much new lately. Have provisionally said I'll do something at the Bloomsbury Festival but no idea what yet! It was great last year so there's a slight fear it couldn't possibly be that good again. What else, what else? Oh, keeping in the poetry vein I am half thinking of putting a pamphlet out - I could sell it at gigs I thought, for a couple of quid. Would you buy one? Let me know...

Who would have thought...

...it'd be so hard to blog every month (MONTH!) when I still remember a time it was every minute.

Why is it hard?

Because it has no purpose, I think. When I first began, eight years ago, I was living somewhere I'd moved to basically on a whim, where I knew barely anyone. It didn't matter whether I blogged anonymously or not (well, or so I thought, but that's a different story) because my life such as it was had no direct correlation to my blog. They were completely discrete. Now of course that isn't the case. I don't need to tell most of you guys what is going on with me because I see you all the time. Or you've friended me on fbook. Or you follow my Twitter feed (which I basically just use for moaning - I may rename it my Witter feed.)

I use Facebook particularly how I used to use 20six. Although my oldest blog is a mere shadow of its former self (all those photos vanished forever) you can still see that in amongst the long rambly posts there were lots of brief updates, usually with a picture.

So, if it has no purpose, why am I still doing it...?

I don't know.

Anyways, some updates.

UNI: I am within spitting distance of the end of the module. It has been so difficult. SO. DIFFICULT. I've cheated and signed up to do Advanced Creative Writing next term. And once that is done (hopefully without as much wailing and gnashing of teeth, though we'll see) I will finally have my degree. I started uni in 1998. Hm.

WORK: You know I still think of it as my new job, despite having been here longer than the IoP. Which is weird. I'm still bowled over by the lovely kitchen every morning. It's a good place to be. Not that the IoP was a bad place to be - certainly I've been invoking my old line manager during the organisation of my sis' hen weekend (at the end of the month, eeep!) and its helped immeasurably. Who writes an action plan for a long weekend? Turns out I do.

NOT WORK: In a brief panic I would be a fat bridesmaid I attempted to take up running. On my first outing I walked a minute/ran a minute. On minute eight I was a bit sick in my mouth and had to stop. I guess I need to start smaller/embrace the paunch. Oscar is lovely and has completed his star chart, thus earning himself a fish tank. He just has to complete it again to earn the fish to go in it. I've been a bit sort of out of the loop because me and Chaunce have been totally loved up since the hols - a bit like when you get a new boyfriend and you drop all your mates. But now  have plans to see all of my absolutely favourite people (well, with a  notable exception) over the next fortnight, so I'm coming back out of hibernation.

See you guys soon!

xxMxx

I may be on holiday, but I'm blogging anyway...

...because I am dedicated to this one post per month thing. DEDICATED.

I am in Devon and it's April and I never got round to blogging March. And I was in the North the weekend before and thus am slightly discombobulated.

March is a funny month isn't it? Or maybe that's just me. March is a very reflective time for me. Ridiculous impromptu things always happen to me in March which point up stuff about the past, and foreshadow stuff that's in the future (sometimes waaaaay in the future.) I can't get through a week in March without thinking about loves past (massive concentration of late March/early April birthdays in my lovelife, what's that about?) jobs been and gone (show me a March I haven't switched jobs and I'll show you...well a rather boring career stretch between 2006 and 2009) or some hilarious twist in my academic career (woah, my latest is 85 on an essay - EIGHTY. FIVE. I'm probably not allowed to put that on the open internet but hey, I just did.)

The biggest thing that's sticking this March was a trip I took to London in March 2003. I came with a boy I shouldn't have done, who should have known better and messed about and had a lovely time. As part of this lovely time we chipped to the bar at the Royal Festival Hall and stood out on the terrace drinking vodka and lemonade (well I was. I don't know what he was drinking.) And I looked and I looked at the river and I felt something but I didn't know what. And now, of course, I am working just over the river from the bar. I see it on my way home each evening and walk under it on my way in more often that not (cos I love love love walking over Hungerford Bridge and through Victoria Embankment Gardens to get in to work. It's the best.) And every time I think of past-me and try to reach back and say that it will all actually be okay. And I think past-me must hear because... well. Because I did feel that, when I was stood there with my voddy. I did feel that eventually SOMEHOW everything was probably going to be alright. Although I also remember wondering how on earth that would be possible.

And this March I reconnected with someone I hadn't seen in so so so long, and it was amaze amaze and now I am sad we live so far from each other. It was some guy I met when I was at school and he was just starting out teaching (despite obviously being aware of this, I still managed to accessorise for our dinner date with..uh... a satchel. Good look Fleming.) And of course when you are at school and someone is a teacher they are approximately A MILLIONTY years old. Imagine my shock as he came striding along Deansgate looking younger than me (well, not quite, but almost. He was equally shocked by my accent, so it sorta balances out.) Turns out he is six months older than my husband, which basically makes me feel weird. But in a good way. I am enjoying thirty/my thirties. They feel kinda... powerful. While I was up in the North I went out walking a route I would walk over and over in my teens and it felt good to reconnect. I think it might be a Yorkshire thing. That it's important to reconnect with the land from time to time. I feel quite energised by the whole thing. The novel is continuing apace.

The only other thing I have to say about this March is BACK OFF ILL HEALTH, just, you know, JUST STEP THE FUCK DOWN and away from my friends. Ok? Ok. I am sure me putting that on the internet will totally fix everything. But if anyone has any spare good karma, waft it in the general direction of my buddies, will ya? I need them.

In April I am going to a wedding on the 29th. Oh yes. Can't wait. And... well I'm on holiday. My sandwiches have remained seagull-free, thus far. But I should really get back to all the important lazing about I have scheduled.

March WTF?

Okay so one post per month didn't take into account how short Feb was.

How's not drinking go Em?

Oh. My Christ. Not well.

I didn't do a full Galliano but I did manage to drunkenly tell an Italian I couldn't take him seriously cos I couldn't stop thinking of Silvio Berlusconi. As a diplomatic faux pas I think that ranks at least a Prince Harry, if not a Philip. Gawwwwwwwwd. And he (the Italian) so handsome as well: what a mistaka to make, eh? (I'm doing it again, aren't I? I shall stop now.) This was on the same night I managed to fling myself to the ground whilst running across the road in badly judged (but rather sexy) shoes. There was oncoming traffic. My knee is possibly broken forever. I think it might scar. It hurt. My god, it hurt. But not as much as falling in love does, so, lucky escape.

And then (on another night, you'll be pleased to hear) I managed to leave a pub with almost a full pint hidden under my jacket and then as if this weren't teenage enough I proceeded to GET ON A BUS with said pint, and drink it on my way home. I am a thirty year old wife and mother.

So somehow I have reached March without being a) run over and killed or b) arrested. I suppose this counts as a success.

I will endeavour to behave more appropriately this month (despite the fact I am scheduled to go up North the final weekend and have arranged to see some very good, very old, very drunken friends.)

Work is still ticking over. My half-abandoned novel has been returned to, working on the assumption that I don't NEED to have the awkward conversation UNLESS it actually finds its way to a publisher (and, uh, gets finished.) Ossie is lovely - we went to the dentist yesterday and he was the most well-behaved bear. In fact it was quite a nice appointment, until I had to pay at the end. All the money I have saved on childcare this month blown on my teeth. And I wanted to blow it on my hair so that totally sucks. Uni is going... well, it's going. I am four essays down and three to go. 73, 72, 65, 68 and I've been a panicky mess for all of them so am lucky to have scored so highly. The next one I am really looking forward to because it's about two things I think I know about: postmodernity and, er, picturebooks. I'm actually really looking forward to writing it (I say that every time!) Tutorial on the weekend, I missed the last one so I'd better go.

Can somebody remind me what it was I blogged about in the old days? There was an horrific moment earlier this week when I thought 20six.co.uk had vanished. It hadn't. I've no idea why I care, none of us are there any more, but it was a bit like finding your old school had been knocked down. Or something.

I shall return next month with all sorts of interesting updates!

Or not.

Dates for your diary:

The ultra-talented Mr. Steve Dagleish is playing a gig at the Betsey next Tues, March 8th. Tix £6, doors 7pm.

Future Perfect - the writers I worked with last year - have a new show: ANIMALIS at the Poetry Cafe in Covent Garden, 31st March. Tix £6, Doors strictly 7pm (cos it always fills up!)

And the day after (April 1st) there's another indie night at the Betsey should you fancy it. I don't work for the Betsey, I swear.

One Post Per Month

Is Completely Achievable.

HELLO INTERNET! I've been avoiding you, sort of. I said I wouldn't update my fbook status for the whole of January (which I didn't) and did anyone even notice? NO. But this may be as I was still merrily responding to invites, leaving comments and Tweeting like a mofo elsewhere online. Those of you who know me well may also recall I said I wasn't going to drink (apart from Champagne) for the whole of my thirties (imagine, a whole decade hangover free...) So yeh, no internets no boozing. If I tell you I managed to have a drunken conversation on Messenger at one point I feel you can draw your own conclusions as to how well that went this January.

I don't really have anything to actually blog about, so I will just recount my month as a sort of aide memoire to chuckle fondly over come December. So what happened?

A lot of boozing was done - in fact, enough for the rest of 2011. I went to see Belle Greenwood play a gig for Bansang Hospital at an Eritrean place in Oval which was fantastic (but oh dear, I was mightily mightily smashed.) I went with my friend J and I think I've sort of associated her with drinking lots and lots and lots as that was our coping mechanism when we both working in the same hellish place a couple of years ago. The day after the gig I somehow managed to make it to my frolleagues bday part in Toots, no idea how I managed that without dying, unk. But I did find out about Indie Bingo which is very very exciting. (Speaking of Indie, I went out to the best named club night around If You Tolerate Bis, Kenickie Will Be Next. There was much dancing and I threw my phone on the floor at one point for some reason but it was still a fab night.)

In fact I went out with J of the drunkeness twice this month, the other time for a leaving do. Two leaving dos this month - one girl off to Dubai and the other to Saudi, both happysad events - I'm happy for them but I liked hanging out with them and now they've gooo-ooone *sob* But they were lovely catch up, gossipy nights and I will try and get the remaining gang all together again at some point in Feb. Speaking of gossiping, I also went out (thanks to vouchers) for a significant amount of cheap Italian food (and gossip) this month. I swear one day I will go to Italy and eat real Italian food and probably die of pleasure.

What else what else? As our little friendship group was flung far and wide over the holiday season we all met up for an Epiphany party in Toots on the 6th. Hilarity ensued. S had the INSPIRED idea that our secret santa should take the form of Love It Top Tips and so we all made each other presents. I gave a pebble with the recipients name "carefully" painted on (frankly, Ossie could have done it better) and I received an 'upcycled' brooch cobbled together from an old shower puff, an Xmas decoration and a safety pin. Actually it went very well with my dress, but it did smell a bit odd. The weekend before I'd gone to another sortof New Year party up in North London (where I managed to drink a whole bottle of Prosecco and then smashed a glass of ginger wine whilst trying to demonstrate how much I love the Beatles *theeeeeeeesss muuuuuuuuch* *SMASH*) which was very arty boho and cool. I met a guy who grew up the village across from me, which I just found hilaire. So close and yet we bump into each other in North London of all places. Small. World. But as for New Year itself, we had a very very quiet one on the sofa. Party next year. In fact, I'm thinking of 'doing Christmas' next year, so we don't have to go anywhere.

OH OH OH! The MOST EXCITING thing happened this month which was that I somehow managed to walk the red (actually green) carpet for Gnomeo & Juliet as my friend had been invited and for some reason no-one else wanted to go. We went for such a nice cream tea beforehand that I would have been happy with just that, but then we got to see loads of celebs we half recognised and SIR ELTON!! SIR ELTON!! as the paps will have it. We did not get papped. We got hurried in past the baying mob. BUT we had second row seats and after the credits rolled A PIANO ROSE OUT OF THE STAGE and ELTON JOHN PLAYED CROCODILE ROCK (which is my favourite Elton song) LIVE!!!! Like the most surreal Sunday EVER but also one of the best EVER. I will be dining out on this story for months so apologies if I tell it you all over again next week.

Work news: The most exciting thing that has happened at work is that I have rescinded my membership of tea club and therefore waived my right to biscuits. Work has returned to its normal Midsomer pace since the excitement of big projects before Xmas. This pleases me.

Uni news: I wrote what I thought was an amazing essay and got 7 marks less than my previous one. Gah. I also went to an OU Day School which was brilliant, but then managed to completely miss a tutorial. It's starting to really bite now - one 2k essay every four weeks? It's getting a teeny weeny bit much. But I've paid for it, so I can't quit now (and I won't.)

Writing news: I decided I'm not going to do any events this year, what with everything else going on (I'm also trying to help organise my sisters hen weekend which turned out to be harder than I thought!) so I went over to my friend S's yesterday to show her how I used to make all the flyers etc. She has a Mac. I don't know how to use Macs. It was a very frustrating afternoon (I think her laptop needs an exorcist) but there was plum tart and she lives in an AMAZE flat so I've let her off. I've also half decided to abandon writing my novel following a very long daydream about the book launch (hey, success is all about visualisation tha knows) in which I realised if it did get published I'd probably need to have at least one awkward conversation which I just don't think I could bear to have. So it's kinda on hiatus.

Childer news: Ossie is now a real person who can do everything a real person does only smaller. I've started reading him Paddington at bedtime which he seems very engaged with, partly I think because he identifies so strongly with the bear - being the same size and being confused by London and escalators etc. We also have lovely conversations -

O: [on our usually dark journey home from the childminders] It's light!
Me: Yes, Spring is coming.
O: How many legs does it have?
Me: What?
O: How many legs?
Me: Spring?
O: Yes. How many legs has Spring got?
Me: Uhhh... How many do you think?
O: Lots and lots.
Me: Okay...

Later we asked Daddy for clarification on the amount of legs Spring has, and he foolishly said 'two'. Luckily he rallied when Ossie looked disappointed and added 'two per side. And it has twelve sides, so lots and lots.'

I bet you wish you lived in our house.

Til next month...

In which Ossie is two, Chauncey is gallivanting and I am miserable

So looks like I only ever blog when Chaunce is out. I keep thinking of things to blog about

(like the complicated Big Issue seller situation I have got myself into. Basically, I sort of cheated on my Big Issue Guy, who technically ISN'T my Big Issue Guy cos I never buy one off him but he always says it doesn't matter cos he likes my smile every morning but then some other Big Issue Guy made me burst out laughing on Hugerford Bridge and - as you know - if you can make me laugh then you got me man, you got me, so I wound up getting a REDUCED PRICE Big Issue from the comedian Big Issue Guy (cos I didn't have enough money) and Christ, you can't refuse a REDUCED PRICE Big Issue can you? So now I'm having to avoid funny B.I.G. who is kind of cute because I don't have enough money at the moment even for reduced price Big Issues and I feel sort of bad for my other B.I.G so I hope that they don't all get together and swap notes... oh you don't care? Sorry.)

but then somehow never finding the time to actually sit down and blog. This is because I have a brilliant job at the moment, brilliant in that it is kind of relentless but in a totally non-stressful way.

Ossie was two this week. He can talk and he is very good at pretending. Today he was a dinosaur that liked to eat feet and at bedtime he clambered into a picture of a digger using his 'imagination' (so he told me.) He also rather desperately needs a haircut.

Chaunce has got his mojo back which is wicked, and has been out with various peeps throughout what seems to be the entirety of July, and I am pleased he's having a good time and everything but I'm a bit jealous. I got used to being the one who goes out all the time! And I do worry, even if he is a (nearly) thirty six year old man. I worry about traffic and muggings and fights (which of course would never affect me when I go out, oh no.)

I am feeling hugely fat and ugly and depressed which is all good because surely that means I will get my period soon. It's deliberately gone into hiding because I have my 30th bday party on Friday and it obviously wants a piece of the action: THE FUCKER. I have wasted all my good party karma on the last big party I went to which in retrospect was not as important as my actual friggin birthday party (tho damn I was hawt so perhaps it wasn't all in vain. Note to self: try and track down pictures. Note to self: Scratch last note. Pictures may reveal you are remembering it wrong.)

But yeah, fat (well, sort of like, bloated) and ugly (my skin's dreadful! My hair!) and depressed (lost count of the tears today - wake up from scary dream: tears. A row about an extension cord: tears. The horror of war as reported in weekend papers: tears. The general hardship of motherhood: tears. I can't find my passport: tears. Fuck my passport's in my maiden name: tears.) Who'd be female? Seriously thinking about theming the party Arabian Nights and turning up in a burka. Is that massively politically and culturally insensitive? Oh well. I was talking about this the other day with my mother in law and telling her about the desire I'd had after I got married to cover my hair (tho I never actually did it) and now I'm growing my hair after reading on another blog some statistic or other about men only having affairs with women who have longer hair than their wives and... so yeah, long hair is the way forward if I'm ever going to bag a married man (HA HA HA HA. Ha.) What the hell am I going on about? Oh yeah, and my MiL made the very good point that her mother never would have gone out in public without being pretty much completely covered up, certainly always in a scarf and/or hat. But not a full on burka obviously! (In related news: I don't mind them, I don't care really but my mum said she didn't like them. When I challenged her she said she thought it made women look as if they were in the IRA.W as the say TF?!! My mum's lovely but a little leftfield sometimes.) I was chatting about it with my MiL as Ossie had pointed to a picture of a burkaclad woman and said 'nice' and I was like, yeah, nice lady and then he'd asked me if it was my sister(?) I think he may have been before. I've taken to calling him Spooky Fleming. 

This post is going out of control. I'm going to stop now. And go to bed. Or maybe tidy up. We have visitors tomorrow and my God this house is a mess.

XXX things I did the day I turned XXX

I Woke up at 05.45 WAY TO GO OSCAR FLEMING!!
II Bit back tears of joy as husband tended to child
III and agreed he would take him to the childminder today.
IV Checked Facebook for first few birthday messages.
V First one is from my ex WTF?
VI Watched a YouTube vid
VII Ahahahhahaaaahhahahaaa! Drum-fu!
VIII Got up and washed and dressed etc.
IX Opened presents from husband -
X necklace (to make its first appearance at my party later this month) and book of poetry (Adrian Henri - I love Adrian Henri)

XI Pootled to work via the bank
XII which was closed.
XIII Went to Paperchase to buy "special" notebook in order to finish novel.
XIV Word count since yesterday: zero.
XV Went to Patisserie Valerie for cupcakes for the office.
XVI Got to work, quick meeting about a project. EXCITING. (Really!)
XVII Work gave me presents! Stuff from Lush and Hotel Chocolat.
XVIII Went to a meeting in another building.
IXX Gave out business cards. BUSINESS CARDS. Okay my name's not on them but still.
XX Bus home infused with smuggery and relief

XXI Uploaded pics from Monday night to Facebook
XXII Am pissed off with self AGAIN for drinking when I was doing so well
XXIII FINALLY downloaded the Dylan bootlegs on to my .mp3 player
XXIV Bringing the total number of songs where people mysteriously visit an 'avenue' on my player to 2.
XXV Where is this avenue? Anyone know?
XXVI Went to pic Osc up. He had been releasing the butterflies he'd seen grow from caterpillars - very exciting.
XXVII Ice lollies
XXVIII Husband cooked, get in.
XXIX Began to watch Peeping Tom but...
XXX ...fell asleep.

Bad News For Pyotr

So my husband is out and I should be tidying or washing or, I don't know, something, but instead I am watching Peter Nalitch on YouTube on my patio in the dark. Hello moths!

Anyway.

So.

Got me to thinking about crushes. Am I ever crush free? No. It's like a... I was going to say disease but that's not right. A disorder, anyway. Sometimes they are really useful. You learn new stuff and you, oh who am I kidding? They're horrible. They're wonderful. They're disgusting. They never end well. Or if they end well, that is probably the start of something new.

Which got me to thinking about 20six because I only started my first ever blog as a release valve for the pent up agony that was having a crush on someone who sort of liked me but then I was way too full on and that really freaked them out and anyway I had a boyfriend and then HELLO I WAS WRITING ABOUT THEM ON THE INTERNET LIKE A TOTAL DICK and so ummm, yeah, we're not friends any more... But, ah, tonight, at a loose end I suddenly find his name popping into my head and I wonder... I wonder if he's facebook friends with my friend who introduced us? Oh he is. OH! There's pictures! Well a couple. I just had a quick look to reassure myself a) he was actually attractive (he really is, phew) and b) I am no longer attracted to him (I'm really not, phew.) Then I got in a stress and checked my privacy settings and realised any friends of friends could see all my photos and wall posts and everything, which leaves me totally open to a bit of cyberstalkery. Then I calmed down when I realised that in the unlikely event anyone did want to cyberstalk me, I'm quite smug in my facebook photos/updates/etc so what would they really gain? Apart from knowledge of my whereabouts at any given moment and an overwhelming feeling of pity that I am such a pathetic wretch I have to document my every move online.

Anyway the point is, I am pissed off I looked for this guy because the whole story is ruined now. I wrote a little piece up about him ages ago and now it's ruined. The mystery's gone. The magic. He's just some guy.

When I was very, very small, about 8 or 9 I was at some sort of fair or something and I got a computer print out of my star sign according to the time and location I was born (stop rolling your eyes at the back, this actually concerns you in a roundabout way.) And on it, it said 'you must not hang on to feelings as though you will never get another' which I didn't understand for years and years. But I do now. It meant, I feel things so strongly that I can't imagine my feelings ever changing. But they do. They fade out. Actually if I want to hang on to a feeling, like I do with my marriage (obviously) I have to put a lot of work in, which is fine, because it's worth it. But these other rushes of ummm... whatever it is, desire, whatever, if you don't tend them then they'll just fade out. You know.

Hopefully.

Ossie's Big Bed (NOW) and other gubbins

My son has given himself a nickname - 'Ossie' - seemingly from nowhere. If we/the in-laws/the childminder shorten his name, we say Osc. But Osc refers to himself as Ossie so Ossie it is swiftly becoming.

Yesterday I went to Ikea with my next door neighbour (finally calling in the favour as we've let her use our parking space) and bought Ossie a big bed. He's been insisting for about a week that he should have a big bed 'NO COT!!' and promises faithfully he will actually sleep in it. We'll see. And it turns out my next door neighbour totally rocks, so I am feeling really good today

It only seems like two minutes ago I was (it was THREE MONTHS AGO! -Ed.) blogging a list of his vocab so far. I thought I'd do an update but now I've gotten around to it, there's no point. The boy can talk. He's not even two. Disconcerting.

In other news: I am doing my last SSMK performance in an abridged show at next week's Streatham Festival. My face is being used in the Festival brochure to promote it, rather than, you know, the logo? Or anything to do with the show at all? I don't know, does my face say 'SNOG SHAG MARRY KILL' to you? Monday 5th July, 7pm - 8pm at The Hamlet (10, Streatham High Road, SW16 1DB.) There's a writing workshop afterwards too if you're interested.

BLOG. GOLD.

Everyone in my house is ill, to a greater or lesser degree, so none of us have been to the shops properly for days. I'm saying that like there's loads of people in my house. Neither of us have been to the shops in days. I made an emergency run out to the shops for loo roll and non-alcoholic beer and while I was there a massively pregnant woman at the self service tills reminded me to buy condoms (she didn't say 'oh you must buy some jonnies' she just looked very hot and very uncomfortable and very VERY pissed off) so I switched into the 'real' till aisle to get some (cos they're behind the counter. Right? Right.)

Man bips my stuff through.

Me: [quickly and quietly] and some condoms please.
Man: [waving vaguely towards the toiletries aisle] they're over there.
Me: oh, er, right, thanks well I'll just ummm...

I left my shopping and sprinted to the toiletries aisle. There are no condoms there. There have never been any condoms there. Is it just that I can't see the condoms? A hot and grumpy queue is forming behind my shopping. Another member of staff appears from nowhere

Her: They are here, the condoms, they used to be here.

She begins rifling through the shelves. She shouts back to the man behind the till 'CONDOMS??!' He shouts back "YEAH CONNNNDOMMMMMSSSSSSSS!!' I dunno, maybe they do this to everyone. I suppose it passes the time. The manager has clocked the queue and then goes behind the till to where the freakin condoms actually are and grabs some and waves them at us.

So I went over and bought them and left.

And the only way I got through all that without actually imploding with embarrassment (never mind that I'm nearly thirty and married and a mother) is that I knew it was pure, unadulterated BLOG. GOLD.