I don’t like to dwell on the bad time (far far worse than any of yours, the baddest of all time in the world, ever actually) I’ve been having recently, but for the purpose of explaining why I am most definitely due some good luck, and not so much for the purpose which I’m sure this post will fulfill- to make you like your life more, I will regale my hopeless experiences of late…
Transport, again. I simply do not learn from my mistakes and I have come to the conclusion that my sub-conscious likes writing about travelling hiccups and thus creates scenarios from which I can take blogging-material. A few weeks ago, the plan was to visit the boyfriend in Leeds. I left home, and headed to Southampton, the city I spent my uni years in and felt I knew well. I rocked up to the coach station an hour early, but that was okay, I had a vigorous game of Angry Birds to complete. I sat there, the birds making me angry, and the coaches going by. What made me angrier though was the constant interruptions from boyfriend, messages and phone calls making sure I was going to be on time, that I was in the right place- how dare he!? I carried on, ignoring his worries and pelting birds at rocks- metaphorically of course. Panic began to set in when the 4pm was not to Leeds but to Portsmouth. “Excuse me” I sweetly chirped, wheeling my Barbie pink trolley on wheels towards the help desk and over some dirty student toes, “Excuse me, this is probably a silly question, but the 4pm to Leeds, it is coming isn’t it?”. I beamed. She did not. She grabbed my iPhone from me (yeah, I know!) and scrolled down the ticket she had obviously seen me frantically checking for the past ten minutes. “Nope, we only go to Portsmouth. Sometimes we go to Cornwall if that’s any help?” she chewed her gum so sarcastically that I’m not sure if she was playing funny buggers, or she was actually stupid enough to think that was a helpful travel alternative. I grabbed my iPhone from her unhelpful (and very clammy!) fingers and tottered out of the coach station, Barbie wheels in tow. Cue phone call to boyfriend, and cue his smug “I told you so” and so cue my tears. It wasn’t really that sad….actually it was… this ticket, for the other coach station in Southampton (if it even exists!), cost £8, the train ticket I proceeded to buy cost me £103. And I had to change. At Birmingham. Where there are a large number of wheeley-trolley-unfriendly stairs. When I arrived boyfriend didn’t even offer to carry Barbie for me, on account of looking like a Barbie himself. Pansy.
In other news, I have also been rejected from several (million) jobs, and not just graduate ones, oh no, apparently I am no longer qualified to be a babysitter (I won’t drop your baby much, I promise and I will have a grand total of zero suitors hiding behind your sofa when you return- I am far too responsible for that, and, well unlike your 16 year old alternative, I really need the cash!), data entry clerk (to be fair I’d probably be rubbish at this anyway since it involves data and I’d like to think my hair is to nice for me to be a clerk- it might not be, but I’ll proceed to think this) or fundraiser…(I though charities were supposed to be charitable, I am in need, give me a job!).
And Natwest want my Student Overdraft back. Bugger.
However…. I am going to see the boyfriend this weekend (not that there is any guarantee I will get there at all/on time/by the means which I currently think I will).
AND, I’m published! Well, ish. I’ve started writing for various print and online papers in a bid to keep the creative juices flowing/ rant at a bigger audience/ make me more employable/ and in the face of a lot of graduate-writing-shaped rejection, continue to love and not despise what I do…and this is the first of my online articles that are actually shareable/bloggable:
‘9/11 and interracial connections’
http://www.graduatetimes.com/news/2011/09/13/911-and-interracial-connections/
Comments are most welcome!
It really is nice to be ending on a high. Imagine if next time I can write about a successful train journey!?
ratinthecity 