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I'm'a post sump'n.
Jul. 23rd, 2012 10:59 pmOH MY GOODNESS FINALLY SUMMER IS HERE IT'S STOPPED RAINING FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE APRIL AND THERE'S SUNSHINE AND HAPPINESS FOR ALL OH MY GOSH I LOVE SUMMER I LOVE IT I DO.
Yeah. Tonight Didz and I walked down the city path past the water meadows (the baa-lambs have gone now, boo) and round back through Harnham and past the cathedral, where we looked at the tourists looking at the buildings and Didz enjoyed the aromas of lady dogs while I savoured the delicious smells of summer evenings and bustling restaurants and the occasional whiff of posh ladies' perfumes. There's people everywhere, from everywhere, all dressed up to go and see the cathedral in the evening and then have dinner, because they're on holiday. Makes me feel like I'm on holiday, even though I'm working tomorrow; morning is dogs and cleaning, afternoon - office, evening - gig. We're supporting Cruxshadows at the Talking Heads in Soufampton. Perfection.
I have my dream life. I feel so accomplished. I finally have everything I ever wanted. Oh my goodness I totally just nearly cried because I'm so happy. What.
Over the river from me there's a house with a garden and a Deutscher Schäferhund. They're having a garden party and it's all very civilised. They keep applauding something I can't see. I love people watching out of my bedroom window. Didz does too. People walk past and comment on his little face, sitting there watching constantly, especially if I go out. As I approach the door he comes down to greet me. So cute. I'll get a pic of him next time I'm walking home.
Oh! I got rid of the old lady. I think it's a bit of a shame in a way. She made me angry but I admired her. And I was envious of her massive house; especially the library. It smelled of old books and they were all ancient and leather-bound and some were tied up in batches with pink ribbons and labels which is exactly the sort of thing I would do and I wanted to dive in and have a look so, so, so much. But, there was only so many scoldings I could take.
'How many syllables is that, please? Then move your lips. You don't move your lips when you speak the Queen's English.'
I've been practising saying 'duvet covers' in the mirror ever since, to see how my lips move. She is right, they don't move that much. SORRY MA'AM, HERE ARE YOUR DOOOVEHHH COVEHHHHS. I charged her £20 for this bunch of said items, because they're a pain in the tits to iron, her house is half-an-hour's drive from mine and I had to go upstairs and put the buggers away for her. She said that was too expensive, and heavily implied that I don't work hard enough for £10 an hour, and that if I wanted to earn that much I'd have to do the ironing at her house. 'Well, I suppose if you can get £10 an hour elsewhere, then I suppose that's fair. You can come here and work for that amount, but you know how cross and demanding I can be. And you will have to WORK!'
If there's one thing I hate it's being called lazy. I am NOT lazy in the slightest, I hate being idle and never am, thank you very much. She asked me to hand her a book that was on the floor, and when I did it was the wrong one, so I got shouted at for that. Then I scratched an itch for a split second while I looked around the room for the right goddamn book, and she then scolded me for 'standing still and scratching my head' when I could be helping her look for her handbag. She obviously hadn't seen me straighten all her mats for her, put her mail and newspaper on the table and pick up and discard an old grape, then.
Oh! And she wanted this old bit of rag that I'd put away in a drawer with some other bits of rag. When I showed her where it was, instead of just saying thank you (because it wasn't like she told me a specific place to put anything other than 'wherever you think it should go'): 'I don't know why you would have put it in there with the table napkins.'
OH! And when I'd found her flaming handbag after ransacking the whole gaff for twenty minutes (when I was meant to be driving to Southampton to meet somebody), I ran downstairs with it triumphantly and told her it was under the table upon which her television sits (moving my lips emphatically of course): 'I can't think why you didn't look there first.'
Actually, most people pay me £12.50 an hour, love.
Anyway, I got out of ever having to go there again. I told her it would be a bit difficult for me to come over in the daytime because I work in Southampton on weekdays now, sorryyy. She told me 'thank you very much for your help this week, and you look very pretty today, and I hope you have a marvellous weekend.' Bless her.
DOOOOVAAAAAY CUVVUUUUHS. I bet you're saying it in the mirror now, aren't you?
Yeah. Tonight Didz and I walked down the city path past the water meadows (the baa-lambs have gone now, boo) and round back through Harnham and past the cathedral, where we looked at the tourists looking at the buildings and Didz enjoyed the aromas of lady dogs while I savoured the delicious smells of summer evenings and bustling restaurants and the occasional whiff of posh ladies' perfumes. There's people everywhere, from everywhere, all dressed up to go and see the cathedral in the evening and then have dinner, because they're on holiday. Makes me feel like I'm on holiday, even though I'm working tomorrow; morning is dogs and cleaning, afternoon - office, evening - gig. We're supporting Cruxshadows at the Talking Heads in Soufampton. Perfection.
I have my dream life. I feel so accomplished. I finally have everything I ever wanted. Oh my goodness I totally just nearly cried because I'm so happy. What.
Over the river from me there's a house with a garden and a Deutscher Schäferhund. They're having a garden party and it's all very civilised. They keep applauding something I can't see. I love people watching out of my bedroom window. Didz does too. People walk past and comment on his little face, sitting there watching constantly, especially if I go out. As I approach the door he comes down to greet me. So cute. I'll get a pic of him next time I'm walking home.
Oh! I got rid of the old lady. I think it's a bit of a shame in a way. She made me angry but I admired her. And I was envious of her massive house; especially the library. It smelled of old books and they were all ancient and leather-bound and some were tied up in batches with pink ribbons and labels which is exactly the sort of thing I would do and I wanted to dive in and have a look so, so, so much. But, there was only so many scoldings I could take.
'How many syllables is that, please? Then move your lips. You don't move your lips when you speak the Queen's English.'
I've been practising saying 'duvet covers' in the mirror ever since, to see how my lips move. She is right, they don't move that much. SORRY MA'AM, HERE ARE YOUR DOOOVEHHH COVEHHHHS. I charged her £20 for this bunch of said items, because they're a pain in the tits to iron, her house is half-an-hour's drive from mine and I had to go upstairs and put the buggers away for her. She said that was too expensive, and heavily implied that I don't work hard enough for £10 an hour, and that if I wanted to earn that much I'd have to do the ironing at her house. 'Well, I suppose if you can get £10 an hour elsewhere, then I suppose that's fair. You can come here and work for that amount, but you know how cross and demanding I can be. And you will have to WORK!'
If there's one thing I hate it's being called lazy. I am NOT lazy in the slightest, I hate being idle and never am, thank you very much. She asked me to hand her a book that was on the floor, and when I did it was the wrong one, so I got shouted at for that. Then I scratched an itch for a split second while I looked around the room for the right goddamn book, and she then scolded me for 'standing still and scratching my head' when I could be helping her look for her handbag. She obviously hadn't seen me straighten all her mats for her, put her mail and newspaper on the table and pick up and discard an old grape, then.
Oh! And she wanted this old bit of rag that I'd put away in a drawer with some other bits of rag. When I showed her where it was, instead of just saying thank you (because it wasn't like she told me a specific place to put anything other than 'wherever you think it should go'): 'I don't know why you would have put it in there with the table napkins.'
OH! And when I'd found her flaming handbag after ransacking the whole gaff for twenty minutes (when I was meant to be driving to Southampton to meet somebody), I ran downstairs with it triumphantly and told her it was under the table upon which her television sits (moving my lips emphatically of course): 'I can't think why you didn't look there first.'
Actually, most people pay me £12.50 an hour, love.
Anyway, I got out of ever having to go there again. I told her it would be a bit difficult for me to come over in the daytime because I work in Southampton on weekdays now, sorryyy. She told me 'thank you very much for your help this week, and you look very pretty today, and I hope you have a marvellous weekend.' Bless her.
DOOOOVAAAAAY CUVVUUUUHS. I bet you're saying it in the mirror now, aren't you?
