More of life’s little irritations….

Oooh, just realised I haven't written anything here for ages. The simple reason for that is I've been mad busy dealing with life, learning and trying not to get pissed off with the little things that go wrong. Things that have ground my gears this week include:

The inhabitants of Harrogate.

Now I apologise if you live in Harrogate and are not a pretentious arsehole but if that does apply to you I suspect you might be in a minority. This weekend I went on a hen do to Harrogate. It was my friend Sarah's and given that she is a very sensible lass and a lot of her friends are also very sensible lasses I did not expect it to be the loudest and lairiest hen do ever. I was not wrong. The dress code was little black dresses for the evening, no veils, L-plates, furry horns or flashing boobs. Not a one. No stripping, flashing, loud swearing, falling over in the street, singing songs learned from the women's rugby team or the alternative version of Robbie William's 'Angels'. In short, nothing that could get you arrested or slapped with an ASBO. Despite this, the mere fact of 13 girls being together in one spot armed with a glass of lightly chilled chablis proved to be too much for some of the residents of Harrogate. There was the middle aged couple who slammed their forks down in disgust, got up and left the restaurant with their meal only half eaten as we were seated at a table next to them, there was the couple with the child who summoned the waiter and yelled loudly that had they know we were going to be in the restaurant they would never have booked a table. Yes, well, if you don't want to see other people while you're having food, why not fucking well stay home? Then there was the pair of girls who, while Sarah and I were standing outside chatting, proceeded to very obviously look us up and down and begin bitching about our dresses. Listen bint, if you looke dlike you knew the first thing about dressing yourself I might be concerned by your disgust but since you appear to have taken style tips from Cherie Blair and done your makeup in the dark I'm not really concerned. So you might as well fuck off and pick on someone else you stuck up tart. Harrogate is a very pretty place and has some lovely points however its residents and its parking are not two of them.


When my boss suggested that I do a professional diploma I thought it would be a nice doss. A day off each week to go to college and a couple of assignments to do. I may have made a slight miscalculation. I don't finish till 8.30pm on a monday now and I have 3 assignments to be in by 24th November. I didn't even manage to achieve that much work in that time frame while at uni and all I had to do on a daily basis there was get up. Sometimes I didn't even do that. How in the wide world of sport am I meant to do all that? I have accidentally let myself in for a mental amount of work for the next 12 months. I am officially an idiot.


We've had new wardrobes fitted. They are lovely. Unfortunately in order to get the wardrobes fitted we have had to move all the miscellaneous crap from under the bed and in the old wardrobe to the spare room and the bathroom. This has led to interesting situations like having to move the stack of shoe racks in order to have a piss, my makeup living in the sink and having to be moved everytime you want to wash your hands, the drying rack taking up residence in the living room, the spare room being quite literally piled shoulder height with shite and thanks to the sodding diploma, me having NO TIME to sort it all out. My house is quite literally a complete and utter shithole and I've no idea where to begin sorting it out.

Still, I suppose it could be worse, I could live in Harrogate. And I have learned how to make a Vodka Sunrise so it hasn't been all bad this week.  

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2 Responses

  1. [esto es genial]

  2. Well doesn't Harrogate sound like it's full of twats??!

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