Some things I should admit

I have never seen Kill Bill.

I didn’t see Dirty Dancing or Grease till I was about 16.

I bunked off the last half hour of school one day to get a book signed by the first winner of Big Brother.

Often I don’t brush my hair.

When I was about ten, I saved up and bought The Smurfs Go Pop album. My favourite song on it was Mr Blobby and The Smurfs, in which Mr Blobby occasionally goes “BLOBBY!” That is his only contribution to the song.

I always used to make up little plans about running away (I had probably seen a film which made it look really fun and easy.)

I have a strange fondness for wildebeest. I just think they’re quite grand.

I loved loved LOVED the boy from Free Willy. I had a poster of him on my wall, which I used to snog.

When I was little, I named all my teddy bears and cuddly toys and gave them personalities and had a little sitcom-esque imaginary existence with them at bedtime.

It was during these night time role plays with my toys that I perfected my faux American accent.

That’s right, I have a faux American accent that I sometimes put on for fun. I think it’s ace. I can’t speak for anyone else.

I also went through a phase when I was about 17 where I spoke in an Irish accent.

I have lumpy knees.

Sometimes I find the news boring, although I know I should be fascinated and be all aware and things, but sometimes they go on and on, and I realise I’m not actually that interested. Ssshhhh, don’t tell anyone.

I don’t like Glee. I once watched an episode. It was not the best use of my time.

I also don’t like mustard.

I don’t think dogs are cute. Even small fluffy ones. They’re just dogs.

I love lists.

Observations of a taxi driver

Women are notoriously bad at waiting until the taxi stops before getting their money out. They also take a particularly long time when you’re double parked in the middle of the road.

Some drunks think that they’re in a confessional. Too much info…!

When working at an international event, ie, the rugby, the Irish are by far the best to have in your taxi.

To the drunk who wet himself in my cab last week, sort yourself out.

Having drunk coffee from every coffee shop, Taylor St Baristas is not actually that nice. I don’t understand the hype.

People expect taxi drivers to know eveything, eg, the American last week who asked me where he can get chewing tobacco.

My name is not “cabbie.” That’s my job.

When people are in a hurry, you always get red lights. When you need a moment to look in the A to Z, all the lights are green.

If your cab’s going to break down, it always happens on a Friday or Saturday, when the garages close for the weekend.

I love it when people say, ‘I know the way,” because they direct me the long way and I get more money. They don’t trust me to know the shortest way and take me miles around using these little handheld Satnavs.

A woman once got in my cab and said, “I don’t know the address, driver, but I know it’s got a grey door.”

Another woman got in the cab and said, “Take me to my sister’s.” Upon being asked where her sister lives, she said, reproachfully, “Ohhh, all the taxi drivers know me.”

Getting in a taxi and saying, “Take me toward central London, as far as £5 will take me,” is a big waste of everyone’s time.

Attempting to pay by cheque in a taxi is not ok.

Australians never tip.

Getting Excited, Being Sporty and Being Friendlier, all in one day!

Yesterday I went to watch the Olympic men’s 50k walking race. This encompassed the three things I’ve been making concerted efforts to do since my liberation from exams.

It covered Getting Excited About Stuff. In fact, I think I might have been the most excited person there. Or maybe just the most supportive. Certain people would always get a cheer when they went past – the leading group of about ten walkers, the British guy and, since I found myself in the middle of the Irish contingent, the Irish guys. A group of Japanese supporters opposite cheered the Japanese competitors. Finland had a following who would cheer for their competitor. But there were about 60 people in the race. So that’s a lot of people not being cheered. I took up the cause on this one and clapped and wooped and bashed on the railing thingy to show support for e.g. the lone very tall Polish guy who would often be adjusting his shorts awkwardly as he passed so I was unsure whether to clap or leave him in silence to readjust, the extremely hairy Norwegian competitor whose shoulders looked like they were covered in carpet, the two Ukrainians who shared their water bottles every time they got one and the Latvian in a little crop top who stuck with them the whole time, the Portuguese guy who looked determined, if a little grumpy.

All these people would pass by unnoticed by the crowd or, if noticed, not cheered. So I clapped extra hard for these people, risking serious hand injury. In my mind, they felt a bit deserted, unloved, appreciated the sound of someone supporting them. In actual fact, they were probably just thinking, omygoodness I’m so hot and thirsty, I really want to win, I wonder if I’ll catch up.

I got there bright and early, in my excitement, and found a spot at the front. It was a 1km stretch that they walked up and down to complete one lap of 2km. As the walk was 50km, they did 25 laps of the course. As they started to spread out, there was constantly someone passing by to watch so it kept the excitement levels high. And my hands constantly in action!

Being at this event also kind of covered Being Sporty because it was the Olympics. So although I was not active myself, I was involved in a sporting event, sort of. Would you say that counts as being sporty? I would.

It also covered Being Friendly, as I was alone in a big crowd and so ended up chatting to loads of people. I had a fascinating discussion with one man about women being tested for testosterone levels to check if they’re too ‘manly’ to be allowed to compete. We wondered whether the men ever have to get tested for oestragen levels to check if they’re too ‘girly’.

Later I came home and finished a book. This is a big deal. I’ll tell you why.

Now that I’ve got Getting Excited, Being Sporty and Being Friendlier sorted, I need a new thing to try and I thought I might try Finishing All The Books I’m In The Middle Of. My main problem is that if I feel like reading, I want to read right now. I don’t want to go and dig around finding the book I was last reading. That might involve going all the way upstairs to my bedside table. I want one now, here, on the couch, downstairs. So I pick up a different book and start it. So I have a few real books I’m reading, two or three on my Kindle app on my phone, one on my actual Kindle and one on Audible.com. I need to streamline. Finish off all the ones I’m in the middle of and just have one or two.

This may be the hardest challenge yet. I have books I’ve been reading for over a year (The Innocent Man by John Grisham), some that I’m reluctant to finish because I love (the complete short stories of F. Scott Fitzgerald), some that I keep losing (one about the history of Highgate in old photos) and some that I’ve forgotten the storyline of so will involve major backtracking (Black Mamba Boy by Nadifa Mohamed).

This one may take a while. Wish me luck!