Easy as ABC...for the Alpha Betically Challenged

It began with an early morning call to make a payment to my credit card account. Trying to get through the security left me feeling rather insecure about my cognitive faculties. "M is the second letter in the name Smith. What is the number of the letter z in your mother's maiden name? Please key in your answer." I hung up, not fully understanding what was required. Although I was at my office desk, I was clearly not yet fully awake - not an unusual occurrence, I must admit.

The next episode was a couple of days later when I unusually took the train to work (I mean, travelled by train, not actually bringing a train into the workplace - maybe that's for a future posting). The announcer announced, as was in his nature and probably job description too, that the carriages were configured in a not exactly alphabetical manner (I am paraphrasing here) - don't you hate it when trains come into the station in reverse alphabetical order, as if commuting wasn't stressful enough already? The icing on the cake was when he announced that people with reservations for carriage A would find them in carriage L. Thankfully I did not have a reservation. But I was secure in the knowledge as to where the "z" came in my mother's maiden name. We have to hold onto these little lifelines.

Beer Spill

A wonderful (or amazing; cf high vis jkts) traffic report on the radio yesterday. A lorry had shed its load of beer cans near a motorway junction. I tried so hard to come up with some appropriate witticisms, but the barrel clearly needs changing or the pipes need clearing. I imagined all those drivers caught in the long queues foaming at the mouth - if it had been Stella Artois, then it would have been "reassuringly inconvenient". The advice that "all good things that come to those who wait" would not have been well received, even by the Guinness drinkers. The lorry driver himself was probably feeling bitter about it. Further suggestions? - your round, I believe.

People Not to Invite to Dinner Parties

Obviously this is a slightly personal and biased view - please, do not totally exclude these people from normal social interactions. Today I speak only of the men - for yea, often they are - who provide the long, ponderous commentaries for the kind of historical re-enactments one sees in castles and other such historical places throughout the summer months. Full of dates and circumstantial detail, bereft of emotion. And the obligatory warning not to try this at home - how often have I felt like letting off a cannon in my back garden - never mind the neighbours, that would be no bad thing, but that's another story..! - or trying a bit of jousting with my beloved - now, there's a thought, if I can get the armour, a sort of armour d'amour...but I digress.
I have every respect for the enthusiasm of these people and all those who do the re-enactments, I am sure it brings history alive. But please, not at my dinner table.

Fluorescent Display

I suppose to be chemically correct, I should refer to "high visibilty jackets". A caller to the local radio station described how he had seen about ten men wearing said jackets on a motorway bridge he had just passed under. They had clipboards - half were looking at north-bound traffic, half at southbound. The caller described this as "an amazing sight". Mmm. I am not sure if Wordsworth would have got far with "A host of men in golden jackets..." I guess we all drive to a different muse.

Beltane Braces

Rather late in the day, Beltane greetings to all. I can't justify the title, other than I liked the sound of it. Maybe it is about bracing myself to compose this post. A combination of a late night last night and a busy day ahead precluded me from greeting the sunrise this morning, and I daresay a burst of enthusiastic drumming to greet the dawn would not have gone down too well with the neighbours - but no bad thing!

Strange....a vivid nightmare a couple of nights ago, perhaps presaging today - my shed and garden fence were consumed by flames. What could it mean? Burning fences rather than bridges? I watched in a detached way from my semi-detached bedroom window, and at the last minute decided to try and connect the garden hose to deal with the blaze - but too late. A hole where once the shed stood. The link with fire is clear - did I recount my memorable fire-walk of three years ago? Did I speak of my almost psychotic obsession with a local pagan woman in the build up to Beltane 5 years ago? The heart burns in a strange way.