Tuesday 30 September 2008

When it's ok to drink in the middle of the day. . . .

When you're on holiday.

When your weekend of comic performances have gone well and earned you more gigs.

When you've retired (as most of the men in this bar seem to be).

When you're working.

When you've got a newborn baby (I haven't - mum in case you're reading this - there are just quite a few women with babies in the bar as I'm writing).

When it's cold, cheap, European brewed liquid gold, not crap British larger.

When retired men old enough to be your great-great-grandad are making eyes at you over your laptop.

When you don't have a newborn baby and your life is your own and you don't know how good you've got it.

When coffee - even strong black stuff - just won't take the edge off.

When, well, I'm getting quite drunk now and can't think of any more reasons - not funny ones anyway.

Friday 26 September 2008

Stage Fright

As well as being a nice, happy person who writes a hilarious online blog (click this link) I also try my hand at writing comedy. But given my lack of funds to pay performers I have been taking to the stage myself to get my work 'out there' in the real world.

This presents two problems. Firstly I am not a natural performer. (Admittedly a rather big set back if you want to get on stage in front of a theatre full of strangers and entertain them, let alone make them laugh.)

Secondly, even if I were a good performer, I've got to do my own stuff, which is twice as hard as being caught out for bad acting of someone else's work. This way, if I dive I'll be doubly to blame, for a rubbish performance and for writing such dire, tripe wafflings in the first place.

Luckily they say confidence is half the trick when you're on stage.

I've got a gig tonight.

Wish me luck.

Wednesday 24 September 2008

Two valleys girls in a tanning salon . . .

Two Valley's girls walk into a tanning studio and sit down in the waiting area.

"What you having Tesni? Ten or twelve?" asks one.

"Well I did Ten on Saturday, when I was out shopping with the kids and it looked lush, but it's faded now so I'll try the same again I think."

"Twelve can be just too much sometimes, for some skins I mean, ten is, like, just enough.
"I'm having a twenty."

They put money into a machine on the wall and collect their tokens for the sun beds and then sit back down.

"I hates it when people say you shouldn't tan," muses Tesni. "Science people and stuff who've never even ever been on a sun bed."
"So how do they know?" finishes Kadie.

"Exactly. It's all politics I think."

"What's what? What do you mean lovely?"

"I mean like these beds, and how you look and how you dress and stuff. It's all politics - other people shouldn't get involved. It's not no-ones business if I want to get my skin looking nice and tanned, or if I wanna shop in Primark or wear like I do, or if I wanna dress the kids in Burberry. I think it's lush and cute and if anyone says any different it's just politics."

"Like that Cameron guy putting a hoody on and joining a gang, that was just politics?"

"Huh?"

"Like them MPs in London making laws, that's politics. Is that what you mean?"

A sun bed becomes available and Tesni stands up to go into the booth.

"No actually, not in London, not politics." She searches for the word. "Personal I meant, it's personal."

Tuesday 23 September 2008

In the real world

In the real world I am not a white cup and saucer with a muffin on it, nore am I athletic, rich, Spiderman, or any of the things I sometimes dream it would be nice to be.

In the real world I'm a newspaper journalist and while it doesn't (often) involve hanging from a web-like-thread off the side of a building it can be quite an interesting job.

Today, for example, the fax machine was out of paper when I rolled in at 7.30am.

So before I had my coffee I had to check several different cupboards in the multi-media newsroom where I work to find paper for it.

I searched in the cupboard underneath the huge six-monitor screen which dominates the newsroom, with different displays showing our website, international news channels and our own online live coverage.

I searched in the cupboard by the video feed lounge where reporters do pieces to camera for our website.

I searched in the cupboard in our state-of-the-art meeting room with high-tech phones and video screens for live conference calls to anywhere in the world.

I searched and I searched, because no-one could get on with their job of bringing cutting-edge news to our multi-media global audience until I found paper for the old fax machine which is hidden away in the corner and needs dusting.

Monday 22 September 2008

Ultra sound-off

Why is it that friends think it's appropriate to send pictures of ultra-sound scans to me on my mobile phone?

There I was this morning, blowing the steam off my first cup of coffee of the day and 'bling' my phone announces that I've received a text message. Opening the in-box I see it's a picture message from my pregnant friend and I just know what's coming... it must be that time already I groan, flicking the message open. And yes, there I was staring at a grainy black picture with a white blob on it that looks like a baby. Urgh.

I suppose I should be flattered my friend chose to share the first pictures of her child with me, but I never know quite how to feel when the beauty and joys of new life and creation are presented to you unannounced on your Nokia during your first coffee.

I'm useless in these feminine, emotional situations. Do I text back? What tdo I text? "Congratulations it's a blob?" Do I not text back and risk shunning my friend at such a happy and emotional time in her life? I don't want her to think I don't care that she's pregnant, or about her baby, I just don't want to see text message pictures of the ultra-sound scan at half eight in the morning.

I text her thanks for the picture and that I'm excited about her having a baby, I ask some random question about morning sickness. Then I save the picture to a file on my phone called "Other people's ultra-sounds".

That's three school friends in the last six months who've thought it pertinent to send me the ultra-sound scans of their soon-to-be offspring via text.

Should I be taking a subtle hint, I wonder?

And then I take another sip of my coffee and think about changing my number.

Tuesday 16 September 2008

Something to chew over

I am hoping to poll people's opinions on the following social etiquette faux pas:

A colleague from one of our satellite offices rang me at HQ today. He was eating while he was on the phone to me, his words interrupted by the squishy munch as he chewed his cheese sandwich.
Now, in today's busy world I don't begrudge people who need to 'eat on the go' or, as in this case, eat at their desk. And should a call come through to you when you've not quite finished swallowing your gob-full of food then you answer it and hope you can clear your mouth before it gets embarrassing.

However - and I hope I'm not alone here - you don't MAKE a call while in the middle of chewing/eating/swallowing your food? Surely not?

How rude!