Our Little Jaunt

A bit of a rant!

Blogging is a serious issue sometimes. Like many things net-based, it’s quite a narcissistic pastime in some respects – an ‘I’m on my soap box, hear me now!’ sort of thing. Well it is if you do it like I do.

I am sure that some of you find the Mr’s posts more informative than mine (maybe because he doesn’t tend to include bad early 90’s music videos as viable links). Blogging also runs the risk of upsetting people – or worse. However, some things just need to be addressed.

I would like to say, before I continue, that all characters in this blog are fictitious (except for me, but I am not stupid enough to want to sue myself, I know I have no money!) and any similarity they may have with real persons, living or dead is just a sorry-ass coincidence.

So.  I work in the city, in the admin department of a company. We’re partitioned off in small pods. The bloke behind the wall of my pod is into gaming, which is fine. He even goes to gaming convention things. Whatever floats your boat. I’m not going to be rude about that.

Have you ever been somewhere, unable to avoid overhearing someone else’s conversation? On a train, for example. Well I of course can hear this fella through the wall of my pod. Every day. Every day, at least twice a day, his wife calls, or he calls her. The ensuing conversation makes my toes literally curl and my face contorts into one of those looks my husband tells me off for being unable to control, usually saved to be directed at small children with food smeared all over their faces, or overweight chavs dressed in clothes designed for Victoria Beckham.

Luckily, there’s a partition between us so the guy cannot see me setting fire TO MY OWN ELBOWS as I am forced to listen to his inane, star crossed drivel

The conversation goes along the lines of this (read aloud and administer a whining Aussie accent, if you are able);

Really? Why not. Too expensive? I see.

……..

Yes, well we can ask next time we see him.

……..

I love you, sweetheart.

……..

Probably about 6, I have a meeting at 5.

………

I know. I love you too, sweetheart.

……….

I love you, sweetheart.

……….

Tomato and mozzarella salad. Yeah.

………..

I love you, sweetheart. I love you, sweetheart.

………..

Okay. Well, see you tonight. Garlic bread? Anything else? No problem. Love you, sweetheart.

………..

Yep. I love you. Love you, sweetheart. Bye. Love you.

Even writing this is making me want to heave. I just don’t understand why he feels the need to repeat the same phrase over and over and over and over in the same MIND BENDINGLY IRRITATING tone of voice. If it’s lost in the writing of it, lucky for you.

I know, I know. Thousands of miles away in a country where palm trees grow outside of shopping centres and sulphur crested cockatoos fly over your head without so much as a by-your-leave….and I’m moaning. (Don’t be fooled by this picture by the way, which is from Steve Irwin’s Australia Zoo website. The second the shutter had snapped, the thing ripped its keeper’s face clean off. Then probably ate it. Evil.)

The weather, of the last few weeks has been enough to turn even a saint into an axe-wielding maniac. Which may account for my ‘effing’ outburst this afternoon as a silver 4×4 beeped loudly at me several times whilst I was crossing the road. The ‘red man’ was flashing (like amber in the UK) and so the vehicle needed to wait whilst I finished crossing before continuing. But no. He preferred to humilliate me in the middle of a busy shopping street by the use of prolonged and excessive honking. The real irony about this is that had I carried on, put my hand up by way of ‘thanks and apology’, noone would have batted an eyelid.

However, what instead transpired was me losing it in the worst way and literally screaming obscenities at the driver. I can’t even recall my exact words, such was my white hot blind rage.  And then, my self consciousness returning to me in a wave of anger-quenching realisation, I burst out laughing. Looking back, I am surprised I wasn’t carted off.

The other rage-inducing ridiculous thing that made me want to beat the perpetrator to death with a traffic cone was the fella who pressed the big silver button on the pedestrian crossing literally 60 times whilst we were all waiting to cross. IT DOESN’T MATTER HOW MANY TIMES YOU PRESS THE SODDING BUTTON, WE WILL NOT GET ACROSS THE ROAD ANY FASTER YOU LIZARD BRAINED NUMPTY! He then caught up with me at the next one and proceeded to do exactly the same. Clearly, he had not been witness to my earlier outburst or he would have kept a safe distance.

Anyway, earlier I mentioned the weather. For me, akin to the rainy season I travelled in in India. Monsoon weather, downpours that last literally all day. I know you lot in the UK are probably laughing out loud but be assured, 90% humidity is about as much fun as herpes. (So I’m told).  Whilst you are in the grip of a ridiculous cold snap, we are walking round in what feels like a permanent shower. Good job we’re not having to combine the two or we’d freeze to the spot.

Our flat feels damp and it’s impossible to dry clothes. Neither of us really expected it but it’s just one of those things that makes living in a different country so interesting. See? I knew I could end on a positive note :O)

I think I need to take a chill pill. And….breathe………

I love you, sweethearts

x

Related posts:

1. Friends and their loveliness
2. Sydney Festival First Night

Tags: pet peeve, rant, Sydney, Sydney rainfall, Sydney weather, weather

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