LB had a friend at school for a few years. Joe H. Joe H was outrageous in the best and worst senses of the word. He was a very funny guy. LB found him hilarious and talked a lot about shooting up in the playground and smoking weed with Joe H. He left school last year and wanted to give LB his phone number but rules forbade this. Instead I had to write in the school diary to ask Joe’s mum to give me the number.
Now, for the purposes of this post, I’m substituting Laughing boy’s surname (which happens to be an endangered species) for Llama. And, I’m pretending that llama’s are an endangered species. When I told some mates this story on the bus a few weeks ago, I laughed so much I could barely speak. They didn’t. Continue reading
Laughing boy has been called LB for many years now because he is very funny, without any sniff of trying to be funny. It’s a mystery, but very, very entertaining. Continue reading
This is a bit of a saucy one, so be warned…. Richy Rich and I were coming back from London on a very busy bus, one Sunday morning. We were both listening to music on headphones and chilling out, when the bus stopped at Shepherd’s Bush. Richy leant across to me and said in a very, very loud voice; “Have you ever had a shepherd in your bush, dear?” Continue reading
Right. I’m going to heavily anonymise this one (for obvious reasons). I LOVE flotation tanks. Now a number of years ago, I went to a local flotation tank place on a Sunday afternoon and had a blissful, relaxing float. The next day, I went to where I was working temporarily and bumped into Richy Rich who was chatting to some geezer, (Prof) Neville Bunting. He was raving about his weekend which had included his first experience of a flotation tank. 
“Wow, what a coincidence”, I said, so excited to find someone who liked flotation tanks. “I had a float at Hometowny Float Palace yesterday afternoon”. “No way!”, he replied, “When were you there?” “Five o’clock…”, I said. “That’s funny, we must have been in just before you”, he continued. Er. Back up a minute. We? “We?” I said. “Well yes, you know, I gave the receptionist a bit of the old charm and she let my girlfriend go in with me and…”, he said, smirking, “let’s just say, we certainly floated”.
EEEEUUGHH. That was the last float I had.
A few months later I was pregnant and heard that Neville and his partner were having a baby too. Aaawww. Bless. Nine months after the float I gave birth to a lovely bonny baby. Looking out of the window of the maternity ward, I saw Neville walking across the car park with a set of balloons and a cuddly toy.
All true.
Earlier this year I went straight from a meeting in London to an overnight work gig in Birmingham. It was all a bit surreal (involving Alan Bryman and Angry Birds impressions). The following lunchtime after an intense focus group workshoppy thing, I rushed off to catch the train back home. In the short walk from the hotel to Birmingham New Street, I thought I was in Manchester. That really threw me when I got into the station and couldn’t find the ticket machines, and the trains/platforms had all disappeared. Continue reading
My eyesight has got much worse over the past couple of years. I’ve gone from wearing glasses to watch tv, to wearing glasses to stop banging into things. I take em off every night and leave them on top of the toilet. One Sunday morning I got up early, did my biz and flushed the toilet. My dressing gown sleeve caught my glasses just at that point and whizzled them down the toilet.
“AAARRRGGHHHHHH!!!!!”, I screamed in horror… “Whassup?” said a sleepy Richy Rich… “I flushed my glasses down the toilet..” I gibbered. Continue reading
Another totally random happening. I’ve reconstructed it using soft toys, because again I didn’t think to take a picture at the time. Mind you, they might have got a bit angry if I did.
It was a lovely sunny afternoon and I was at home with all the windows open. I noticed a car pull up on the pavement in front of our house. A couple got out with a baby and came into our front garden. I went to open the door thinking they were calling round for some reason. Instead of coming to knock on the door, they sat down on the grass. “Oh”, I said. “Er, sorry, did you want something?” “Oh, no”, he replied. “Ok, I just wondered what you were doing?” I said, totally puzzled. “We just came off the motorway and my wife needs to feed the baby”, he replied. Continue reading
Ok, this is a bit of a random mystery. I was reading in the garden the other weekend, went to make a cup of tea and when I went back outside, half a human poo had appeared on the grass. I panicked a bit and got rid of it before I took a photo, so I’ve recreated the scene using felt tip pens.
So, A is the poo. B is where the clear break is. C is the chair I was sitting on. D is next door’s fence and E is evidence of flattened grass.
My first thought was that it fell from a plane. This can happen; (http://bit.ly/heSIdo)
I flew back from Gothenburg last year, arrived in Heathrow, grabbed my hand luggage, speeded through customs, turned the corner just before the bit where everyone waits for loved ones/chauffeurs and skidded on a pile of sick. Slid about 2 metres into the waity bit before losing my balance and cracking my knee. Everyone rushed forward to help me and make sure I was ok.
Made that last sentence up. Course they didn’t. I just got up and limped to the bus stop stinking of sick. I always thought it was probably some poor mail order bride vomiting before seeing the guy who bought her for the first time, but someone else said it could be someone off a stag do.
mydaftlife 