Rather wishing I hadn't now, to be honest.
1) for everything that is worth our lifes are fragile to dark, and when we got When we got what? What? I must know. I Googled it myself and it seems to be a poor interpretation of a song lyric by Nine Inch Nails, a band I am only vaguely aquainted with. Musically, I mean. I've never met any of them to my knowledge. I haven't dared to trawl through the 89 pages of search results to see where my blog appears. Somewhere near the bottom, I expect.
2) big snow, little snow This is a consistent appearer in the list, some weeks it is the ONLY phrase, in a variety of configurations. It seems to be luring readers to their doom here though, so I am pleased. I still haven't found any kind of verification that it is an "old Indian saying" other than Mr WithaY nodding at me sagely and telling me It's All True, Honest.
As an aside, he is a LIAR.
We were in Salisbury the other weekend. There was a marquee thing beside the river and I commented on it.
Me: Ooh, look, a big tent!
Mr WithaY: The circus is in town!
Me: Really?? Shall we go?
Mr WithaY: No...it isn't.
He then had to walk bent double for laughing, occasionally jabbing me in the ribs and calling me gullible. Bastard.
The marquee contained a portable ice rink, if you were wondering.
3) sensitive new age cowpersons Hurrah! An excellent band, now defunct I believe, but worth a listen if you like (a) rock music (b) banjos (c) Australians. We saw them at a festival several years ago and they were hilarious, as well as excellent musicians. Bastards.
4) so kiss me and cry for me This is another one that comes up pretty often. I think it picks up my blog as I have the tiresome affectation of using song titles as blog titles when I can think of something suitable. Sorry about that, lyric seekers. Must be very annoying if you're looking for the words to a song and all you get is photographs of cakes and ranting about fuckwits.
5) ankle flare This is in itself a weird thing to seach for. I like to imagine a bunch of textile design students trying to find helpful and relevant information about trouser making, and instead they get gruesome photos of my
Other news: Back to work this week, along with many other sad, sad people. It struck me that people on the bus looked really sad. Not just grumpy, or stressed, but actually sad. Also shabby. I hope it was just a symptom of post-Christmas despair, rather than the start of a long spell of ragged-trousered philanthropist-style poverty for all of us.
The exception to this were the two young men who got thrown off the bus as I was getting onto it. The bus came to a halt a few yards from the bus stop and the doors opened. I hopped aboard, then stopped in my tracks as the driver was shouting "Get off my bus! Off!"
It took me a second to realise he wasn't talking to me, and I sat down to watch the show.
They were sitting on the back seat, where all the bad boys sit, and there was a sort of Mexican standoff as they tried to stay in their seats and look cool and dangerous. Unfortunately for them, they looked like twats. It took them a few moments to work out that the bus driver could simply sit there all evening until they got off the bus, or until the police showed up.
So they stood up, shouting abuse at the driver and sauntering slowly down the aisle while all the other passengers glared at them, one large black lady making that excellent disparaging "tsssss" noise as they walked past her, which was the perfect response.
And so we continued to Waterloo, leaving the ejectees out in the rain. Twats.
I am still not loving getting up before 6am to go to work, but I had a constructive first day back. Waiting to see what the application for voluntary redundancy process will look like now. Fingers crossed., eh.