Wednesday, 18 February 2009

Feeling Poop

You can't stand yourself? I mean, it's not like you can walk away from you, or tell you to get lost, or tell yourself to give you five minutes then come back. You are always with you. Sleep may be the only escape, but what if you dream about you?
I get like this every so often. Down. Depressed. Tiredness doesn't help. Neither does being due on the, uh, you know what.
What do you do to get yourself out of this mode?

Thursday, 5 February 2009

Britain Grinds to a Halt

Oh my, poop a pebble, Britain has snow. Everyone, quick, crap your pants! We had some on Monday, a couple of inches, and the country went into panic mode. Last night we got some more. Maybe four or five inches where I am. I know down south it’s a lot worse. MIL was snowed in for two days, and M. King has had sufficient snowfall to warrant getting worried. But really, I think we Brits are more astounded that we actually have snow (we rarely get any—only the poor old Scots get anything like bad snow), so when it appears, the whole country goes to pot. I mean, come on, does the picture below look like a lot of snow to you? (That’s London on Monday.)

No. To me it looks like normal snow. Snow we had as kids, where we trudged to school regardless. Where the heating still worked and didn’t break down. And what’s that all about anyway? School heating these days seems to break down at the slightest hint of a cold snap, yet large business buildings manage to keep their places heated. The road workers are panicking because they are running low on grit and salt. Public transport has been stopped. Schools have closed—great for the kids, they get to play outside in the white stuff—but is the amount we have really something to s**t yourself about?

This is bad snow.

If we had this, then I’d understand the kerfuffle.

Grump over.

Ok, so maybe a panic attack will be in order by this time tomorrow. I just looked out of the window. Blizzard ahoy!

I wanna go and play in it!