Hmmm

In retrospect I probably shouldn't have used the phrase 'logistical nightmare' during sex...

Sinister clergyman

When Great Auntie Annie died recently Auntie Teresa went through her things and distributed her family photos amongst everyone. There are some lovely shots of mum and her brothers and sisters but, at the risk of sounding horribly unsentimental, I must say that one of my favourites is this one of an unidentified man. A sinister clergyman, a comedically large cigar, and a novelty dog. What more could one ask of a photograph?

A Lovely Surprise

It seems to have become something of a family tradition for one relative or other to send me birthday card to arrive exactly three days late such that it arrives on Valentines Day and causes a short-lived flutter of excitement. My brother has managed it this year and done very well by sending his belated card in a red envelope. From the top of the stairs, looking down, it occurred to me that it is pretty unusual to get a birthday card in a red envelope. Aha! But not when it is a Christmas card with 'Merry Christmas!' crossed out and replaced with 'Happy Birthday!'

No more please

I have a feeling that a memo has been sent round to all Waterstones bookshop staff asking them to behave more like independent booksellers. Instead of the surly grunts of old they all seem to be dying to tell me about their personal experiences of whatever book I happen to be buying. Up until today it had been limited to 'oh it's great this one, have you got her new one, it's AMAZING!' style gushing but today it went a step further. In an effort to find a reading for my brother's wedding I was buying Love Letters of Great Men. The sales assistant held it up and said 'I've got this one, it's really great!' I smiled and she continued 'I make my boyfriend read bits out to me in bed'. I looked sheepish imagining her excessively-animated face poking out from the top of the covers. Bring back the grunting (behind the cashdesk).

Deluxe dog food

As if I wasn't excited enough about the idea of getting a dog, almost all of my patients (well, two) have just got puppies that they wave in my face (after I pester them for half an hour with casual inquiries as to the exact location of the puppy) and they're far too cute and snuffly and are pushing me over the edge. Anyway, I think it would be sensible to wait til I get back from South Africa to get a dog, not least so I can take a bit of time off to run through fields with it, paw in hand and what-not. In the meantime I keep striking up dog based chatter with people for no reason other than to fuel my own excitement. Yesterday I told a man that i was thinking about getting a dog and he told me about his sister's dog. it's a very unusual pedigree dog apparently, with an unusual coloured tongue. 'She cannot just feed it any old shit it has to have special food'. The type of dog food that comes in foily sachets or looks more like organic ready meals I imagined. 'It's got to have egg fried rice from the Chinese'. Hmmm. I might tell people that my dog can only consume roast grouse and port. Or French fancies and babycham. Although maybe I won't say that to anyone who might have him round for tea. Otherwise he might stop eating his pedigree chum and insist I get the Mr Kipling's in.

Favourite Christmas Card

I'm not sure if this card (which was hand-delivered to my letterbox) confirms that it was a great idea to move out of town or if it is a sign to pack my bags and run. Still, it's nice to know you can still have a lovely Christmas even if you're single and you're not from Norfolk.

Poor Detective Work

I've turned out to be not so tolerant a driver as I might have hoped. I was explaining this to my boss at work and telling her about the dreaded roundabout that I would arrive at every morning to find that people who are going in a different direction to me think it's ok to queue on the roundabout despite the fact that they can see that they can't get off it. Every morning I would set out in a sunny temper and generally feeling benevolent to all road users, then every morning, at approximately 8.25, I would arrive at this roundabout and be freshly surprised by THOSE IDIOTS! Quite why it surprised me every day I am not sure - maybe I'm an optimistic type. Anyway, the morning I ended up telling Jackie about it was the morning I had beeped. I had not beeped to alert someone to danger but to make a gesture at the car sitting quite pointlessly in the middle of the roundabout and preventing me from turning right. The beeping was a bad idea, as was the arm-waving 'sheesh!' gesture that I followed it up with. It wasn't a bad idea because someone jumped out of the car with a hammer but because the passenger in the car turned to me, shrugged, and laughed in a way that made me feel like a bit of a div. Unfortunately there is no gesture which says 'Oh God, I am a total dick' so I just looked the other way with my teeth gritted. Anyway, when I told Jackie about my roundabout woes I expected her to agree that I should persevere with my efforts to not be such a dick. She didn't though, she offered me a far better solution, a different route to work which involved no such aggravating roundabout. She lives in the same village as me and has had a couple of years to decide the best way to get to work. I don't think the new route took any more or less time than the old route but it was lovely to not have to feel a wave of self-loathing every morning at 8.25.

A couple of weeks after the adoption of the new route I left work at the same time as Jackie and found myself driving behind her. I made a couple of attempts to alert her to this fact (Why? Why do I want to say, 'Hey I'm behind you! I can see the back of your head woooo!'?). When we got to the roundabout in Dunston she went into the left hand lane instead of the right and I felt quite confused - had I misunderstood her description of the new route? Was there actually an even better new new route? I decided to follow her and find out. So I followed her into Dunston and thought 'aha, she's going to turn off here, cut down Wellington Road and...' but she didn't turn off there. Then I thought she'd turn off at the next right but she didn't. At that point I realised that she might not actually be going home. She might be going shopping or to her boyfriend's house. The actual destination was not that important, not nearly as important as the fact that I was no longer driving home behind her but following her, very much like a complete freak might. I decided that the only way to escape being seen as the weirdest workmate in the history of weird workmates was to turn off at the next turning and find my way home from there. But then she did the worst possible thing - she pulled over. She pulled over and didn't get out of the car. I took this as a sign that she knew I was following her and was trying to shake me off her tail! Arrrrrgh! Can there be a greater work-based faux-pas than accidentally stalking your boss? I drove past her and away along a road which I didn't know and got home half an hour later than usual wondering if I should ring her on the phone in case she spent all night worrying about me following her. But I thought that if she didn't answer the phone I would look even more strange and she might become even more worried and would possibly have reported me to some authority before I had had a chance to explain myself.

As it was she claimed to know nothing about it and her facial expression was not too bad considering she had been greeted with 'Morning! Did you think I was following you last night? I was... but not in a bad way!'