Work

It was perhaps inevitable that 'work' would feature here at some point. I won't go into the many and varied reasons why I hate work. This week I hate it because of the time it takes away from me. I've got stuff to do, you know? A bit of Christmas shopping, a nice couple of guitar fixing projects that I'd like to be getting on with, some of my other, more enjoyable, 'work' that has built up and needs attending to. But I haven't got much time to do all this because I have to be at work for more hours in a day than I spend out of work (apart from sleeping).

So what to do? Cut down my sleeping hours? Errr...no. Cut down work hours? Now there's a thought. But then I wouldn't earn enough to support what I do in my non-work hours. The roundabout of life, I guess. It's Christmas though, so I don't have much hate this week. I'll save it for the New Year.

Christmas Cards

It's not the ones from old friends who send them in the post. Not that I get any of them, but my parents do. I think that's nice in a way. And it's not the ones from current and close friends. Although possibly unnecessary, it's still a nice gesture and it is, after all, Christmas. I don't hate Christmas, it may be interesting to note. I quite like it in fact, but for relatively simple reasons. I like having time off work and I like the fact that we devote that time mainly to getting drunk and eating a lot with friends and family. That's what I do anyway, and it's good.

It's Christmas cards from other people I don't really like. Work is the main offender for this, somewhat predictably. This morning, for example, there was one on my desk from the woman who sits round the corner. She barely says a word to me all year and will avoid my eye if I pass her in the street but she gives me a Christmas card covered in 'Best Wishes' and 'Good Will to All Men' slogans. Why bother with such an obviously forced gesture? I'd prefer it if she spread her 'good will' out over the course of the year and was actually polite to me when she passed me in the street. She probably wouldn't, though. She'd rather leave a card on my desk for me to pick up when I get in to work. That way she doesn't even have to speak to me. She shouldn't have bothered.

People (who don't think)

Example One:

I'm playing squash. Squash can be a dangerous game - it's fast and the ball has the potential to fit perfectly in your eye socket and blind you. I also have to look out for my opponent who is likely to either run into me, get in my way, meaning I will run into him, or hit me with his racquet. The other thing about squash is that it is played in a sealed room. Not completely sealed - we wouldn't be able to breathe - but the door is shut so the wall around the court is continuous. Squash etiquette (and common sense) dictates that when it is your turn to play and the people on court’s time is up, you knock loudly on the door and wait for them to vacate the court. This avoids the potential situation of a player, focussed on the game and running full pelt for the ball at the back of the court, removing his head from his body with the aid of the open door. This thought does not seem to have entered the head of a particular fuckwit at my local leisure centre. Casual as you like, whilst we’re mid-game, he flings the door open and steps into the court. A brief exchange of looks – mine horrified, his completely blank – sees him leave the court and shut the door. We finish five minutes later and he’s waiting outside, to come in and play. ‘You know,’ I say, rather politely I might add, seeing as he just tried to kill me, ‘you should knock before you enter a squash court. I could have done myself an injury on that door.’ Now, instead of graciously apologising and thanking me for educating him on the error of his ways, he says something back. ‘Well, I didn’t know there was anyone in there,’ he says. Ok, so let’s just think about this a second. The door to the squash court is shut. There’s a fifty-fifty chance there’s someone playing. There’s a fucking spy hole on the door so you can see if anyone is playing. So what do you do?

Example Two:

Cycling home. I’m going up the bus/bike lane and can see, about 200 yards in front of me, a car waiting to come out of the side road on my left, looking to join the line of traffic on my right. As I get closer I can see the driver look at me. As she does so, she also starts to ease the car out into the bus/cycle lane in an attempt to squeeze into the traffic. Predictably, she can’t and stops, her car now completely blocking my way. I stop, with my wheel virtually touching her door and look straight at her. She actually looks surprised to see me and, more amazingly, annoyed that I should be blocking her view of the traffic. Silly bitch.

People (walking)

I feel like I am the centre of some kind of Truman Show experiment this week. Has everyone in the world been told to make it as difficult as possible for me to walk around? It bloody feels like it.

Everywhere - the supermarket, at work, the high street, in shops - I am encountering numerous people who seem to have no concept of how to walk either in a straight line or with any sense of normality.

There's the classic opposing-directions scenario - we're both thinking of going the same way to get round each other, so we both change to the other side, then we're facing each other again and a collision is imminent, so we both come to a virtual stop and do that juddering this-way-that-way thing and nearly head butt each other. Yes, ok, it's no ones fault. But it's still annoying.

The other ones that seem to be targeting me this week are people who go out of their way to get in my way. I'm walking through the shopping centre in a straight line, towards the exit. Someone comes up from behind me, passes me, cuts infront of me and slows down. What are you doing? Get out of the fucking way!

I've said it before and will no doubt say it again - there are too many people in this country. The only noticeable effect of cutting the population in half is that there would be less fucking morons about.