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Welcome, friends old and new, to my blog. This is the place where I can share my scribblings and thoughts on loving life. I hope you enjoy them, make suggestions and come back to read more.

Friday, 29 March 2013



That's the noise I'm making today (and note the three exclamation marks). I'm really very cross- which is really not me at all. The voices in my head are alternating between screaming tantrums and soothing "Easy, Mungo" shushes. Why, you ask? Read on to find out why my blood is boiling...

Selfish people. 

They come in many forms, from the woman who never says thank you to the man who barges to the front of the queue. People who think, for some reason, that they can do whatever the hell they like and that no one else has any rights, feelings or entitlement to courtesy. It takes a lot to make me angry- I'm fairly tolerant of idiots- but sometimes something tips me over the edge and I turn into a crazy-lady.

My temper scares me sometimes- I'm usually so laid-back and chilled, that any anger seems to take me by surprise and consume me like a flame. Suddenly I turn into a screaming mad-woman who howls at the moon and wants to beat the hell out of people with baseball bats. I don't cope well with anger- I'm not used to it. Also, it's seemingly small things that spark it off, like a forest fire of rage caused by a dropped cigarette.

Take this week, for example. I came home on on Tuesday night, after a long and tiring day at work, to find a steaming, rhino-sized pile of crap on my driveway. Not on the public path, outside my house- actually on my driveway, about a metre from the path and right by my front gate. It was huge and stinky like the devil himself had opened his bowels and deposited evil on my gravel.

I full-on stared for about thirty seconds while my tired brain tried to compute.
Not cat crap (which is another source of anger)
Not my dogs' crap. 


It was late, I was tired, so I sucked it up (the anger, not the crap) and gingerly picked it up like the dog's owner should have done, gagging at the stench of cheap-meat fecal matter. I dumped the bag on the edge of my drive, on the off chance that the poor owner had been out of bags and was coming back to pick it up later (I always hope for the best in people- it's a flaw).

It's still sat there now. Whoever it was is obviously too much of an arse to take any responsibility for their dog's doings. As I write, I'm imagining them now- a chavtastic dole-scum type, with a status dog and a chip on their shoulder that society owes them a Sky subscription and the latest trainers. You know the type, the ones that The Daily Mail like to write about- spends his money on Tesco-value lager and XBox games, that kind of person. Yes, that's right, when I get cross my imagination runs away with me and I lose all my lovely liberal live-and-let-live and turn into the worst kind of middle-class snob, who generalises about entire demographics and believes that the poor should be shipped off to a penal colony. Like I said, I don't cope with anger well.

Anyway, fast forward to today. I spent the day in work, despite it officially being my holidays (and a Bank Holiday, no less) because I'm a conscientious type and I wanted to get stuff done. I arrive home, satisfied and happy because I'm on top of things for once- and there it is.



If possible, this fresh batch of hell was even bigger than the last. I had to reverse around the enormous mountain of yukky-stuff to even get ON my drive. Thank goodness none of my neighbours happened to be walking past, as the explosion of rage as I glared at the chunky bum-burgers that had been deposited on my property would have blasted them off their feet and into a hedge.

HOW DARE THEY?! How dare someone let their dog drop a S-Bomb on someone's drive- TWICE- making no attempt to do the decent thing and pick up their hell-hound's offering? HAVE THEY NO DECENCY/SHAME/POO BAGS? The bit that really makes my blood boil is that I live on a cul-de-sac, so the culprit (and, to be clear, it is the irresponsible owner with whom I am cross, not the poor dog who just needed a poo) either LIVES right next to me or makes a SPECIAL TRIP down a dead-end road JUST to allow his dog to take a dump on someone else's drive. GRRRRRRR!!!

Because I cannot bear to leave it there, it has been bagged (ye gods, it was foul) and has joined its partner in crime on the edge of the drive, where it will stay until the bin-men come.

In the meantime, I will fume- and plot my revenge. Baseball bats spring (worryingly quickly) to mind, as do urine-soaked water-bombs and rubbing the owner's nose in it, should I catch them in the act. Being British, I will probably compose a very stroppily-worded sign to put on my gate. I might even set up a video camera, to catch the owner in the act of looking away while his horse of a dog (believe me, this is a big dog I'm talking about- I've seen its poo- twice) squats and waddles in order to maximise the spread of dirty chocolate-drops. I feel like calling the police and sending the offending dung away to be analysed by the CSI team, so the owner can be hung, drawn, quartered and then sent to prison to spend the rest of his life shovelling inmates' shi-

-but then the real world steps in and gently reminds me that, infuriating as this is, there are much worse things happening in my town, and I really should get a grip.

So I'm doing none of those things. Instead, I'm venting on here about nasty nuggets and probably putting you off your dinner. It's very therapeutic actually, so thank you. I'm feeling better now. I'm remembering the best advice I ever read, that  holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting your enemy to die. Karma will bite them in their selfish arse one day, so I should let the universe deal with them.

I'm personally hoping for blocked drains, as a house full of crap would be poetic, don't you think?

And on that lovely image, I'll bid you adieu. I have some wine that needs drinking x


  1. Outstanding! That would make me have a Basil Fawlty moment and I'd be stomping around demanding revenge. Then I'd sigh and clean the crap up.
    Dear God, can people not clear up their own crap??
    Rant away love, I'd spit a brick!

    1. Haha! I was totally "doing a Basil"- complete with gurning, swearing and a running commentary of "Dear Lord, this REEEEEKS" to an invisible audience. I also slammed my front door- not sure what point I was making there, but it felt good!


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