M is for Motorways

M Is for Motorways

While god was creating the world and everything in it he was very very busy and this left Satan bored, with no one to talk to. So, he decided that he'd invent something of his own and he sat down to have a think. Estate agents? Nope, already got them up and running and selling fundamentally unstable heaps of shit to unsuspecting first time buyers. Call centres that ring you at 7pm to ask you if you're the mortgage holder every night for 6 months? Already done. Those annoying perverts that ring you up to enquire what sort of underwear you're wearing and don't even seem to be discouraged when you tell them you're wearing an enormous pair of gray flannel bloomers? Out there already. So he scratched his head for a bit longer, had a gin and tonic and suddenly inspiration hit him. "I know what I'll create" he thought, "A road that you need to use to get from A to B but I'll design it so that at all the times people might need to be on it it jams up entirely turning it into a 10 mile stretch of carpark". And lo, the motorway was born.

On paper the motorway is a wonderful idea. It's a bit long road with several lanes that takes you directly from A to B. In practice things are not quite that simple. Want to go from A to B in order to get to work? Forget it my friend, so does everyone else and the motorway will be nose to tail for the duration of your journey. Want to go from A to B because it's a bank holiday weekend and you've booked a lovely cottage in Northumberland?  Hope you like the interior of your car because it's pretty much all you're going to see since some pillock has overturned a caravan in the middle lane and the whole motorway is now shut ten miles ahead of you. Every time you want (or, more accurately, need) to use the damn thing it is blocked solid. If it rains, snows, is too bright, is too dark, has a wind blowing from a westerly direction, has the moon in the 3rd lunar cycle the motorway blocks solid and the situation isn't made any better by lorry drivers. Lorry drivers are the only group on the road who believe that the law about not using mobile phones while driving doesn't apply to them and who believe that the wing mirror on the left hand side is only there to make the lorry symetrical. Who hasn't almost been wiped off the motorway by a lorry randomly swinging out? No one who's used the cursed thing more than 3 times, that's for sure.

So how do you avoid the hellhole that is the motorway? Well you have several options: you could buy a farm in the  country and never leave it, you could buy a bicycle and cycle along the city roads although this option does come with a very real risk of ending up as roadkill or you could become a hippy, give up driving and spend your life living in an ashram in Epping Forest and taking large quantites of mind altering drugs. For the rest of us the only option is to keep queing and hope that you win the lottery so you can take early retirement. Happy motoring folks!!

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F is for friend’s psycho girlfriend/ wife

It's Monday morning, it's dark, I'm tired and it's time to rant, so here, in an attempt to stop me from spontaneously combusting sue to an excess of annoyance, is 'F is for Friend's Psycho Girlfriend / Wife'. If it's full of spelling mistakes then I apologise, I'm venting.


You know how it is, we've all seen it. You're friends with someone of the opposite sex, you have been for years. Sure, it may have started out as something more romantic, might have been that way for a while but that was years ago, now you're just great mates and all is good. Or at least it is until your friends hooks up with PsychoTrollop. PyschoTrollop is a girl with issues, she's got more baggage that British Airways and she keeps The Samaritans on speed dial. She's been out with a succession of losers and now that she's found someone who doesn't gamble with the mortgage money / smoke opium / sell illegally imported wild animals / drink 9 litres of cider per day she's determined to keep them and if that means eradicating all his friends that aren't on her 'approved' list from his life then so be it. In her head you're a girl and you're friends with her man so at some point this means you're going to turn up in the front garden wearing nothing but a pair of Manolos and declaring your undying love for him. Her method will follow a tried and tested route:

1) The tantrum – always the first port of call. If you ring then she'll kick off with him the minute you are off the phone, meaning he can only call you or receive your call if she isn't there. In some cases this is enough to convinced the man that his life will be quieter if he just gives up and drops you from his life but for the more tenacious chap, he now faces:

2) The silence – if he calls you, speaks to you, mentions your name, frosty silence will ensue. This will last for some time. Most will crack at this point but if he does manage to outmanouvre Madam Frostyknickers she will finish him off by bringing out the big guns:

3) The emotional blackmail – in other words tears. Yep, the one weapon no mere man can withstand, the tears. In most cases accompanied by the ever effective "If you really loved me you wouldn't be putting me through this". Rather than replying with the logical " Well if you loved me you wouldn't be thinking that I was going to do the horizontal tango with my friend and you would accept my mates for what they are", your friend will more than likely crumble in the face of PyschoTrollop's oscar winning emotional breakdown and you will be consigned to the scrapheap, along with any of his other mates that she didn't like. On the bright side there'll be a few of you so you can all get together for a pint and a character assasination. Perhaps if one of you is a bit artistic you could make a little voodoo doll.

Now don't get me wrong, not all women are like this, very few in fact but the Pyscho Girlfriend / wife is a creature to be feared and reviled, a bit like lepers were in the Middle Ages. Because if one of them gets their hooks into your friend he's finished, done for, consigned to a life of tears, tantrums and giving in. If he ditches you dont be angry with him, give him your sympathy and wish him luck - lord knows he's going to need it.

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At least it’s Friday

Spider count since last post – 5. Although 2 of them may possibly have been the same spider that had moved, it's difficult to tell.


Getting up in the dark is bad. Getting up in the dark when your husband gets to stay in bed where it's warm and nice and cosy really stinks. It's so tempting to just switch on all the lights and put the radio on, on the grounds that if I'm awake and up everyone else should be too but so far I have resisted the urge. What was especially grim about getting up this morning is that I got up, in the dark, to sit in the rush hour traffic in order to get to work for our monthly safety meeting, an event that promises to test the limit of human endurance by boring you until you're willing your body to shut down just for something interesting to do.  Grim. And this one looks like it's going to be a long one. Still, we once had a 6 hour one and it can't be as long as that one, at least it won't be for me anyway because if it gets to 4 hours I'm leaving and I don't give a toss if I get fired.


Latest Facebook news is that I'm wondering if Facebook might not be bad for someone as nosy as me. It's the online equivilent of peering through someone's netcurtains and rummaging in their bin. It's also very addictive and I waste far too much time fiddling about on it. I am concerned that I don't have 200 friends and other people I know do. Am I a hermit? Or some variety of social leper? I also think I need to stop looking up ex boyfriends to see if they got fat or got a better looking girlfriend than me. I need to stop this because:

a) I am a 28 year old married woman and should be more of a grown up. I should be above delighting in the fact that the little weasel that cheated on me at university still appears to be a loser, now has three chins and is going out with a complete pig-dog.

b) I didn't like most of the people I went out with when I went out with them so why on earth am I now looking them up?

c) When I discover things like the fact that one of my ex's (who I lived with for a couple of years and was best friends with for a long time) has had a baby with the vicious tramp that banned him from communicating with me in any way 3 years ago it pisses me off. I have no right to be pissed off but yet I am and this makes me even grumpier than normal. Which is stupid.


Perhaps I shouold do something more practical with my time. Like the work that I'm actually being paid to do.  Or perhaps not, never mind, at least it's Friday.

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What in the name of hairy hell is going on at the moment? Everywhere I go there's spiders and I'm not just talking about the little ones that you catch using a glass and a piece of card, I'm talking about the man-eating monstrous furry ones that you would have to catch with one of those wire collars on a stick that the dog warden uses to catch angry rottweilers. That's if you were stupid enough to attempt to catch the spider which I never would be, no, I know that the safest way to deal with a large spider is to screech until someone else comes along and sorts it out. Not daft me. I went to the loo last night to find a monstrous beast spider clinging to the cistern like satan's multi-legged familiar. Last thing you need at 4am is a face to face confrontation with with a giant hairy arachnid and I don't think Micah was too chuffed to be dragged from his pit to make it's acquaintence either. What the hell kind of advice is "Go for a pee in the downstairs loo" anyway? As if I was ever going to agree to leaving it there, I know perfectly well that had the spider not been dealt with I would have woken up to find it on the pillow next to me, staring me in the eye because as we all know deep down, spiders are evil and always target those who are afraid of them.


Also, that guff that people used to tell me about "it is more scared of you than you are of it" is crap. After all, the spider isn't jumping up and down and shrieking like a badly scalded cat. I am.

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Not impressed

Today I am having a monumentally unimpresed day. this is for the following reasons:

1)   I have damaged the ligaments in my ankle. This is not only painful but has left me with the most ridiculous comedy limp a la John Cleese in Monty Python's Ministry of Silly Walks. It is not dignified, it is not impressive and when I went to visit my parents my dad laughed at me. Some people have no compassion. I hope he gets a nasty bout of Farmer Giles.


2) There's a fly buzzing round my office and I can't catch it. The irritating buzz is beginning to make me twitch but the thing moves at the speed of light. This is my second insect based trauma of the day after coming face to face with a spider the size of a tomcat in the hallway this morning. I had to summon Micah from upstairs to deal with it. He was most pleased to be woken up by shrieking and incomprehensible jibbering combined with pointed fingers and the occasional yell of  'spider!'. When faced with large spiders I do in fact turn into a lunatic with no real grasp of any language at all.


3) Micah suggested the other week that as his brother and sister in law are in Edinburgh because their baby sone has been sent there for an operation we should go up and see them because it's only 4 hours from us rather than the 8 hours to their home. We could have a lovely night away, see the baby and his parents and spend some time together (possibly because I keep moaning that I never see him thanks to his work). Lovely, I thought, a nice romantic night away in Edinburgh. How much of a hopeful pillock am I? Too hopeful it would seem because he has invited HIS MOTHER and her husband to come down from Inverness so we can all spend a lovely family time together. Fucked off doesn't even start to cover it. Doesn't come close. We won't get a single minute alone together because his mum will insist that we spend every minute with him. He'll spend the whole time faffing round her and she'll sit there like the queen bee lapping it up while I get more and more annoyed. And if she starts trying to hold his hand while we walk round the town (like she did last time we walked round Inverness) I'm taking my car and I'm going home. So much for our romantic night away. If being an insensitive eejit was an olympic sport then my husband would be winning gold every single time.

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Questions and job hunting

I pinched this from Jemma at Spidermonky (which I would put a link to if I had any idea how, when it comes to technology I am rather backwards)!

Two names you go by:

Vicola and Spider


Two things you are wearing right now:

A fleece and a frown


Two things you would want (or have) in a relationship:

Happiness and hugs


Two of your favorite things to do:

Walk the dog in the rain and ride horses


Two things you want very badly at the moment:

To not be at work and to get an interview for nay of the jobs I have applied for


Two pets you had/have:

Flora (guinea pig) and Geoffrey (dog)

Two people who will answer these questions, or first to send it back:

Not entirely sure as I only know about 3 people on here! I am such a hermit. 


Two things you did last night:

Went for dinner at my parents and cleaned horseshit off my riding boots. In that order.


Two things you ate yesterday:

Bacon sandwich and tarte tatin with ice cream. I only had the tarte with ice cream though, not the bacon sandwich.


Two people you have last talked to:

A site agent and the Fridge Witch from our office.


Two things you're doing tomorrow: 

Going to bastard work and wishing I wasn't at bastard work.


Two longest car rides:

Trip to the Vendee in France and a ski trip to Austria. Which techinically was a coach journey but I'm sure still counts.


Two favorite holidays: 

A visit to my then-best-friend's house in Pevensey for a week and my honeymoon.


Two favorite drinks:

Vodka and Tonic, Woo Woo.



I am currently job hunting and I'd forgotten what a hideously soul destroying process that is. You fill in many application forms only to get no interviews and you know perfectly well that half the things you're applying for are already filled, they are only advertising externally because the law says they have to. But I have to keep trying because if I stay here much longer then I'm going to kill the last few remaining brain cells that I have. I can't be bothered doing anything very much at work  because I've lost all motivation and I don't give a bugger. And hte worst of it is it's only Monday morning so I've got a whole week more of this happy horseshit before I get a day off. Happy days eh?  

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