Things that make me smile no.87

We always used to take a turn stirring the Christmas pudding mixture, and make a wish as we did so. I have no idea where this tradition comes from, but it's all part of the run-up to Christmas for me. Now that I don't live with my mum anymore, she sends us texts, telling us that she's stirring the pudding on our behalf, and to make a wish. I got mine today, and committed the unthinkable by smiling on a packed commuter train. I then sat there for a moment with my eyes closed and made my wish. No, of course I won't tell you what it was! If I did that, it wouldn't come true!

"Sure, I'll help you out. Send me the details and I'll pick it up on Monday."

Storage units are creepy in the same way that empty locker rooms or night-time parks with one eerily creaking swing are creepy. If Buffy, for example, walks into a vast warehouse full of locked rooms, you can pretty much guarantee she'll be attacked by monsters before she's halfway across the room. The franchise I keep my own belongings in isn't actually too bad. The one where D, evil creature of the night that she is, keeps hers is horrible, and that's where I had to go last night. I walked uneasily past countless rows of lockers, humming defiantly, and failing to convince even myself that I wasn't weirded out. Typically, when I finally reached the right aisle, all but one flourescent light had blown, and the remaining tube at the far end was flickering on and off in a desultory fashion. I may have mentioned before that I really do not like the dark, so standing in a dark corridor, fumbling with the lock for a container which will definitely also be dark, and could contain anything, is not exactly my favourite activity. As far as I'm concerned, that container could still contain anything. With the reception desk closed there was no chance of acquiring a replacement lightbulb, or even a torch. I had to locate the suitcase I needed to extract by touch, using vast quantities of willpower to force my hands into unknown blackness, while my skin crawled and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. In comparison, the near two-hour trek home dragging the case was positively enjoyable.

Lessons learned: Do not do favours for people unless they guarantee adequate lighting.

Sqeeeeeeeek!

Today I shrieked down the phone at a customer. Possibly not the finest move, professionally speaking. Luckily, he was a nice customer, and laughed when I apologised and explained to him that a mouse had just run past, mere inches from my foot. To clarify, I'm not frightened of mice, but unexpected, fast-moving animals, in close proximity to my person, can be a little startling. And I certainly do not expect to see such things at work given that I'm employed in accounts, not forestry.

Things that make me smile no.86

Sitting with friends in a DJ booth built from the back of a bus, playing a marvellous rendition of Amazing Grace on our new kazoos.

Where there's smoke there's fire

I picked up smoking sort of by accident during the course of one too many drunken evenings bumming the occasional ciggie. I was twenty, I think. Maybe twenty-one. Well past the age of peer pressure, and had only ever smoked a couple of cigarettes during my teens, to try it, and didn't like it! One of my school friends, who had smoked for many years, and whose lingering cigarette whiff was the reason my mother regularly accused me of doing so, couldn't quite believe the stupidity of my taking it up after so resolutely abstaining during my most impressionable years. As time passed, buying the odd pack here and there turned into a regular, if minimal, habit, which increased beyond all sense about a year ago, when I began working in an office where half of us smoke, and regular smoking breaks are tolerated.

Then two things happened in quick succession. Firstly, I burned my eyeball. A gust of wind picked up, snatched a burning chunk from the end of my cigarette and deposited it squarely in my left eye. I know. It's horrific. If that didn't make you slam your eyelid shut and say 'gah!', then I'm telling it wrong. Then, that evening, I went for a drink with some friends, one of whom recently lost his father to a smoking induced illness, and got into a conversation on the topic. It turns out there is nothing you can say in that situation to justify your decision to keep smoking. The little bleats of "But I enjoy smoking", "But it relaxes me", "But it's not like I'm planning on smoking for ever" sound indescribably pathetic when placed against the enormity of a friend's raw grief. He was pretty hard on me for a while. For instance......
S: It was all very well for my dad; at least he had someone to look after him at the end......
M: Whereas I'm going to die alone?
S: Not if you stop smoking!
Harsh, no? But when he looked at me all sadly and said "I'm sorry. I don't really think you're going to die alone. But you're my friend, and I want to protect you", I just thought.......Oh crap......I don't really have a choice here, do I? His concern (and skilful grasp of emotional blackmail) had already convinced his girlfriend, also one of my best friends, to quit, and now another victory was his.

That was two weeks ago. I'm doing well so far although, granted, I've been far too ill to want to smoke for about four days of that. Still....not bad going I think!

Do you want to cheer me up?

I've contracted some sort of dire and dreadful lurgy, which leaves me lying on the sofa in a snivelly state, with occasional forays bathroom-wards so my body can attempt to expel orally the non-existant contents of my stomach. You wanted to know that, didn't you? I apologise if you're reading this while eating your lunch.

The point is, I'm pretty miserable right now. Also bored. So I'm trying to amuse and cheer myself by getting people to vote for a friend of mine to get his dream job. I am, as you know, one of the universe's biggest cynics and pessimists, and this guy is my polar opposite. He takes genuine pleasure from helping other people out with their projects, always has a smile on his face and never has a bad word to say about anyone. Despite all this, I actually think very highly of him, and he really would be extraordinarily good at this job. So.....if you feel the slightest inclination to make me happy (and you wouldn't want to make me sad now, would you?), please click on this link, scroll down and press the 'like' button. Go on......prove to a grumpy girl that sometimes good things do happen to good people!

O M G

Now, don't get me wrong, I am under no illusions that it is easy to raise a child. I am also well aware that I would be quite impressively bad at it myself; selflessness, patience and consistency not being my strong points. Besides, the only children I actually like are my nieces, and even they (preternaturally bright, funny and cute as they are) become less amusing after an extended period of time (actually maybe this is where the problem lies - I expect the children to amuse me, rather than the other way around).

Anyway, I digress. Yesterday I was forced to avert my eyes from one of the most stunning parenting car-crashes I've ever seen. A little girl of about five years old was sulking on a bench at the station and, to try and entertain her, her father pretended to trip and fall off the platform. Her response? "Oh for f**k's sake!". At this point I was already gaping in horror, trying not to stare, but it got worse. He then stuck his tongue out at her and said "You smell". Fair enough. I've heard my brother say as much to the girls. But they don't generally react by saying "Yeah well, you take it up the a**e, c**ksucker!". I managed to drag my eyes away from them to the mother, only to see her laughing away and filming it on her mobile phone. I'm now opening the book on bets on how long it takes this child to a) be taken into care and b) go to prison.

Things that make me smile (guiltily) no.85

I'm pretty dozy in the mornings, but today I watched in mingled pity and amusement as a woman tried repeatedly to open the ticket barriers at the station with a Boots advantage card.