Today, I was on a set of descending escalators in a shopping centre. I heard the thundering of running footsteps behind me, and was very suddenly crashed into by some guy with a load of bags, who, apparently lacking any sense of personal space, decided not to back off and instead to stand literally pressed up against me. I turned to give him an icy stare whilst standing my ground, muscles coiled up like snakes about to strike if he turned out to be the sort of guy to try any funny stuff.
He didn't notice my glare though, because it turned out he wasn't paying attention to me at all- he was gazing back up the escalators. Suddenly he spun around (nearly knocking me over all over again), and darted up the escalator. I watched in an almost hypnotised state of amazement as he dashed upwards against the downwards movement of the staircase, at first only matching the speed and seemingly running in one spot, and then gradually succeeding at picking up speed. I had reached the ground by now, but I couldn't stop watching.
Just as he was almost at the top, tiring out fast and beginning to slow down again, he made one last almighty leap to the finish line- only to trip heavily, bags flying and limbs flailing, and he finished his race to the top by scrambling on all fours.
(I turned away very quickly to hide my laughter).
~Fin~
Sunday, 26 August 2012
Saturday, 18 August 2012
Short Stories: Awkward Conversations with Strangers (Part 1)
Awkward Conversations with Strangers, like Making an Utter Arse of Myself, is going to be a series in itself, since it also seems to happen to me frequently.
I've recently started exercising a whole lot more (that is to say, for the past year I have been exercising a lot, but I've upped my game recently), and decided today that I'm fed up of having to wash my one sports bra over and over again when I'm basically Exercising with a capital E almost every day- so that's how I found myself in the lingerie section of M&S today.
There was only one other person in front of me in the queue and one person serving at the tills. Once that customer had gone, I went up to take my turn. Just as I got to the till, the SA behind it started trying to re-fit one of those stretchy girdle granny pants things onto its hanger, and told me she'd be with me in a moment. I smiled and told her that was fine.
Some moments passed as she struggled to stretch the thing enough to snap the clippy hanger on, only to have it ping back. I offered to give her a hand, but she declined. I could see she was getting a bit frustrated, so to break the tension I started talking (of course).
"You know, I got stuck in one of those, once," I laughed. The SA glanced up at me, then without a word went back to her task. I decided to continue, because leaving that statement hanging in the air felt a lot more awkward.
"Well, it wasn't exactly that style, it was a full-body one. I tried one on in the changing rooms just for the hell of it once, and I got stuck with it jammed over my head with my arms sticking out from the top. I was stuck in there for so long an assistant actually knocked on the door and asked if I was alright- I was too embarrassed to admit I was stuck, so I just said 'I'm fine, thanks!' Luckily I managed to get it off myself, after a bit more of a struggle."
The SA twanged the girdle successfully onto its hanger and looked up at me like I was some kind of an idiot. "You know, you're supposed to try on the size according to your dress size. For example... " She looked me up and down appraising. "You'd be a size 14 I suppose, so you'd have to try on a size 14. Or if you're a size 16, you'd try on a size 16."
I suddenly lost all of my friendly feels. "I did try on my size. And actually I'm a size 8 to 10."
I'd say we completed the transaction in silence, had the SA not said my bra size aloud quite loudly as she scanned it in- by which time a larger queue had built up.
~Fin~
I've recently started exercising a whole lot more (that is to say, for the past year I have been exercising a lot, but I've upped my game recently), and decided today that I'm fed up of having to wash my one sports bra over and over again when I'm basically Exercising with a capital E almost every day- so that's how I found myself in the lingerie section of M&S today.
There was only one other person in front of me in the queue and one person serving at the tills. Once that customer had gone, I went up to take my turn. Just as I got to the till, the SA behind it started trying to re-fit one of those stretchy girdle granny pants things onto its hanger, and told me she'd be with me in a moment. I smiled and told her that was fine.
Some moments passed as she struggled to stretch the thing enough to snap the clippy hanger on, only to have it ping back. I offered to give her a hand, but she declined. I could see she was getting a bit frustrated, so to break the tension I started talking (of course).
"You know, I got stuck in one of those, once," I laughed. The SA glanced up at me, then without a word went back to her task. I decided to continue, because leaving that statement hanging in the air felt a lot more awkward.
"Well, it wasn't exactly that style, it was a full-body one. I tried one on in the changing rooms just for the hell of it once, and I got stuck with it jammed over my head with my arms sticking out from the top. I was stuck in there for so long an assistant actually knocked on the door and asked if I was alright- I was too embarrassed to admit I was stuck, so I just said 'I'm fine, thanks!' Luckily I managed to get it off myself, after a bit more of a struggle."
The SA twanged the girdle successfully onto its hanger and looked up at me like I was some kind of an idiot. "You know, you're supposed to try on the size according to your dress size. For example... " She looked me up and down appraising. "You'd be a size 14 I suppose, so you'd have to try on a size 14. Or if you're a size 16, you'd try on a size 16."
I suddenly lost all of my friendly feels. "I did try on my size. And actually I'm a size 8 to 10."
I'd say we completed the transaction in silence, had the SA not said my bra size aloud quite loudly as she scanned it in- by which time a larger queue had built up.
~Fin~
Sunday, 12 August 2012
What I'd Rather Do on a Saturday Night: Cocktails and Stargazing
Saturday 11th August 2012- what a brilliant night.
This weekend I've been in Birmingham visiting friends, mainly Siu Yen (the one who gave me the selection of Japanese sweets in the entry 14th July 2012) for her early birthday celebrations. I came bearing gifts of funky makeup and these cakes I'd made:
(Luckily they survived the journey on the train with me).
We began the evening with a group of Siu Yen's friends and her boyfriend Cam at a nice restaurant, and later on progressed to a couple of cocktail bars, pretty much having the sort of laid-back letting-hair-down fun out in town that nice people in their twenties have in the city centre on a Saturday night.
At some point in the evening, somebody mentioned that there was supposed to be a meteor shower going on later. Me being a bit geeky and knowing about certain celestial events, I immediately knew which shower it was.
"The Perseids," I said.
"What?"
"Every year around this time there's a meteor shower that looks like the shooting stars are originating from the constellation Perseus, which is why they're called the Perseids."
There was a pause. I felt like I had to continue.
"I used follow an online celestial calender thing to track these astrological events but since it's been so cloudy for the last few meteor showers I've been too disheartened to follow the events properly."
Pause.
"There are also pretty good showers in November called the Leonids, and the Geminids in December are supposed to be the best ones', I added, helpfully.
"Alright... " Somebody said, "But it'd be too bright to see them in the city centre, wouldn't it? All the lights and everything..."
"I think if we went to Cannon Hill Park and got away from the roads it'd be okay- plus it's a relatively clear night for once, so I think it'd be worth it," I said.
Most weren't too bothered, but Cam and Siu Yen were quite excited about the idea, so after cocktails and when it hit 1am, we went back to Siu Yen's flat to get changed out of party dresses and into sensible star-gazing clothing (excluding Cam of course, who was not in a dress to begin with), grabbed a blanket, and went to a petrol station to get some picnic-like snacks.
On the way to the petrol station we passed Broad Street, Birmingham's (in)famous watering hole and clubbing scene for students and young people in general. An ambulance bluelighted its way past, and I bet Siu Yen and Cam that it was for an alcohol poisoning. Sure enough a bit further down the road, the ambulance had pulled up and the paramedics were frog-marching a very bedraggled-looking girl dressed up as a Grecian Goddess with vomit all down her front. I vaguely wondered how long it'd take her to be back in the bar and drinking again after this experience.
Broad Street was littered with short skirts, cleavage, bare chests and glitter, also featuring people on stilts, someone dressed up as Sonic the Hedgehog and another as Pikachu (the image of Sonic the Hedgehog miming spanking has ruined my childhood), and a girl carrying the biggest inflatable penis I've ever seen. Siu Yen commented on how young everyone looked- I noted that perhaps it wasn't that the crowd was getting younger: rather we were getting older.
I've never been to a club, and I've never been out boozing. Sure I go out for cocktails with friends every so often, but I've never once drunk myself sick (maybe because I can have enough fun without alcohol already and I have a pretty hardy liver thanks to my Russian-Polish blood, but that's just speculaton). I'd also rather be in an environment where I can hear other people talking, or at very least shouting. However I have a very broad sense of fun even as a geeky girl, which is why this evening was perfect- good food, funky colourful cocktails and stargazing. Once we had managed to break free of the Bedlam that is Broad Street on a Saturday night, we made our way down to Cannon Hill Park and sort of broke into it.
I said 'sort of' broke into- it's not really 'forbidden' per se to enter the park past opening hours, it's just that the gates to the main entrances and parking are closed. If you know where the park begins and ends, however, you can just go around and sidle your way between and past the bushes to get in- which is what we did.
Feeling ever so daring (and just a bit wary of disturbing and angering the odd passing badger), we picked a nice open spot not too far from the road but far enough from the street lights, spread out the blanket, located Perseus in the sky with the help of a star chart and my pre-existing knowledge of where Cassiopeia and Ursa Minor is in relation to everything (I know, I know...), lay down and gazed out into our galaxy.
We didn't exactly see a multitude of meteorites, and we only stayed out until the clouds finally and inevitably came to shroud the night sky from our view (it was about 2:30am by this time), but any shooting star we did catch was met with loud cheers and exclamations of 'WOW!' and 'Did you see that one??' We chatted about the stars and interesting Science-y things, and I silently reflected to myself, as I always do when I stargaze, how small we really are, and how strangely serene it feels to have everything put into perspective (and, in this instance, what a shame it was for all those students on Broad Street to surely be staring down a toilet later on in their evenings rather than up at the stars). Our excited chatter and laughter gradually died down to a thoughtful quiet, and we watched the stars twinkle and the eerie glow of a satellite lazily tracing its path up in orbit.
"Tash, do you believe in God?"
~Fin~
This weekend I've been in Birmingham visiting friends, mainly Siu Yen (the one who gave me the selection of Japanese sweets in the entry 14th July 2012) for her early birthday celebrations. I came bearing gifts of funky makeup and these cakes I'd made:
(Luckily they survived the journey on the train with me).
We began the evening with a group of Siu Yen's friends and her boyfriend Cam at a nice restaurant, and later on progressed to a couple of cocktail bars, pretty much having the sort of laid-back letting-hair-down fun out in town that nice people in their twenties have in the city centre on a Saturday night.
At some point in the evening, somebody mentioned that there was supposed to be a meteor shower going on later. Me being a bit geeky and knowing about certain celestial events, I immediately knew which shower it was.
"The Perseids," I said.
"What?"
"Every year around this time there's a meteor shower that looks like the shooting stars are originating from the constellation Perseus, which is why they're called the Perseids."
There was a pause. I felt like I had to continue.
"I used follow an online celestial calender thing to track these astrological events but since it's been so cloudy for the last few meteor showers I've been too disheartened to follow the events properly."
Pause.
"There are also pretty good showers in November called the Leonids, and the Geminids in December are supposed to be the best ones', I added, helpfully.
"Alright... " Somebody said, "But it'd be too bright to see them in the city centre, wouldn't it? All the lights and everything..."
"I think if we went to Cannon Hill Park and got away from the roads it'd be okay- plus it's a relatively clear night for once, so I think it'd be worth it," I said.
Most weren't too bothered, but Cam and Siu Yen were quite excited about the idea, so after cocktails and when it hit 1am, we went back to Siu Yen's flat to get changed out of party dresses and into sensible star-gazing clothing (excluding Cam of course, who was not in a dress to begin with), grabbed a blanket, and went to a petrol station to get some picnic-like snacks.
On the way to the petrol station we passed Broad Street, Birmingham's (in)famous watering hole and clubbing scene for students and young people in general. An ambulance bluelighted its way past, and I bet Siu Yen and Cam that it was for an alcohol poisoning. Sure enough a bit further down the road, the ambulance had pulled up and the paramedics were frog-marching a very bedraggled-looking girl dressed up as a Grecian Goddess with vomit all down her front. I vaguely wondered how long it'd take her to be back in the bar and drinking again after this experience.
Broad Street was littered with short skirts, cleavage, bare chests and glitter, also featuring people on stilts, someone dressed up as Sonic the Hedgehog and another as Pikachu (the image of Sonic the Hedgehog miming spanking has ruined my childhood), and a girl carrying the biggest inflatable penis I've ever seen. Siu Yen commented on how young everyone looked- I noted that perhaps it wasn't that the crowd was getting younger: rather we were getting older.
I've never been to a club, and I've never been out boozing. Sure I go out for cocktails with friends every so often, but I've never once drunk myself sick (maybe because I can have enough fun without alcohol already and I have a pretty hardy liver thanks to my Russian-Polish blood, but that's just speculaton). I'd also rather be in an environment where I can hear other people talking, or at very least shouting. However I have a very broad sense of fun even as a geeky girl, which is why this evening was perfect- good food, funky colourful cocktails and stargazing. Once we had managed to break free of the Bedlam that is Broad Street on a Saturday night, we made our way down to Cannon Hill Park and sort of broke into it.
I said 'sort of' broke into- it's not really 'forbidden' per se to enter the park past opening hours, it's just that the gates to the main entrances and parking are closed. If you know where the park begins and ends, however, you can just go around and sidle your way between and past the bushes to get in- which is what we did.
Feeling ever so daring (and just a bit wary of disturbing and angering the odd passing badger), we picked a nice open spot not too far from the road but far enough from the street lights, spread out the blanket, located Perseus in the sky with the help of a star chart and my pre-existing knowledge of where Cassiopeia and Ursa Minor is in relation to everything (I know, I know...), lay down and gazed out into our galaxy.
We didn't exactly see a multitude of meteorites, and we only stayed out until the clouds finally and inevitably came to shroud the night sky from our view (it was about 2:30am by this time), but any shooting star we did catch was met with loud cheers and exclamations of 'WOW!' and 'Did you see that one??' We chatted about the stars and interesting Science-y things, and I silently reflected to myself, as I always do when I stargaze, how small we really are, and how strangely serene it feels to have everything put into perspective (and, in this instance, what a shame it was for all those students on Broad Street to surely be staring down a toilet later on in their evenings rather than up at the stars). Our excited chatter and laughter gradually died down to a thoughtful quiet, and we watched the stars twinkle and the eerie glow of a satellite lazily tracing its path up in orbit.
"Tash, do you believe in God?"
~Fin~
Friday, 3 August 2012
A Missed Opportunity/ A Confidence Boost
Have you ever had the feeling that you might have been able to connect with someone, but you only realise when the chance has passed you by?
I was on the tube this evening on my way home from a day out in Camden Town and King's Cross with Anna, a friend who I haven't seen face-to-face in something like four years (which is unbelieveable and disgraceful and I promise I won't let it happen again) when I noticed a guy snoozing to my opposite right in the carriage. I smiled to myself- he was quite good-looking in my books, and I found the hunched, dishevelled way he was snoozing in (the same form most travellers take when they fall asleep on the tube, in fact), sweet. Not being one to be a Miss Stare-y Stare-ason though (and remembering one creepy incident on the train once when a lady watched me doze very intently for seemingly the entire journey), I turned my attention to the various posters in the carriage.
A few stops later, with my internal monologue asking when it's the appropriate time to wake someone up in case they miss their stop even if you don't know what their stop is (and I'll admit with my curiosity getting the better of me), I looked back at Mr Sleepy*.
He was wide awake and staring right at me.
I looked away quickly, trying not to laugh- it's always awkward when you catch someone's eye on public transport, because this is London and you're supposed to avoid any interaction with your fellow commuter at all costs. All the same though I acknowledge that this is quite a tragic social state to be in, and I find it quite entertaining. I quickly put it out of my mind.
A little down the line though I got the heebie-jeebie feeling out of the corner of my eyes that I was being watched again. I quite firmly chose to ignore it; it's really easy to get into a glance-towards-glance-away match with someone on public transport, where one person wonders why the other is staring at them, whilst the other is thinking the exact same thing.
I forgot about it for a bit, but happened to look in Mr Sleepy's direction again (this time by accident- I promise). He was looking in my direction again, but quickly diverted his gaze as mine crossed his.
What was it this time? Did I have something in my teeth? Fluff in my hair? Had I smeared something on my face but not realised it or had my eyeliner melted halfway down my face in the humidity? (All of these have happened to me on the tube before, of course). I surreptitiouly flicked my phone out to check my reflection on the blank screen (because I didn't want to appear vain and actually get my compact mirror out). Nope, nothing. What was this guy's problem?
A bit later on in the journey after a bit more ignoring I cautiously, suspiciously looked around in his direction again, to find him almost pointedly staring at the door to the next carriage, away from me. Good, I thought, now I can continue my personal journey in peace.
Finally Mr Sleepy's stop came and it was time for him to step off. Instead of just getting up and exiting the door right next to him though, he crossed the carriage to go through the doors just past me. I didn't think much of it as he did- I do stupid things like that all the time- but I avoided looking up because I was feeling a little bit embarrassed by now (like a real Londoner, rather than the social semi-freak that I am).
As the doors closed behind him I allowed myself to look up one last time at Mr Sleepy- who I still conceded was good-looking- and found him watching me right back as he headed up the stairs and my train pulled away.
The penny dropped. Oh. Damn. If only I'd just smiled.
At least I can add this to the growing list of incidents involving the Y chromosome (since my ex knocking the confidence-stuffing out of me four times over, that is) that assure me that I'm not an utter troll. And to Mr Sleepy- in the unlikely event that you're reading this- I was the girl on the Northern Line to Edgware in the Totoro T-shirt with the long brown hair. Sorry I didn't twig- I'm smiling now to make up for it.
~Fin~
*Sometimes to pass the time I temporarily name my fellow passengers- the guy next to Mr Sleepy was Brighteyes because he had really striking eyes, the girl next to him Wondergirl Assassin because she was stunning, had really sleek black hair and looked like she could be a glamorous assassin, and the guy next to me was Mr I-Got-No-Strings because he'd fallen asleep in a completely slumped position also popular with train snoozers, like a puppet with all the strings cut.
I was on the tube this evening on my way home from a day out in Camden Town and King's Cross with Anna, a friend who I haven't seen face-to-face in something like four years (which is unbelieveable and disgraceful and I promise I won't let it happen again) when I noticed a guy snoozing to my opposite right in the carriage. I smiled to myself- he was quite good-looking in my books, and I found the hunched, dishevelled way he was snoozing in (the same form most travellers take when they fall asleep on the tube, in fact), sweet. Not being one to be a Miss Stare-y Stare-ason though (and remembering one creepy incident on the train once when a lady watched me doze very intently for seemingly the entire journey), I turned my attention to the various posters in the carriage.
A few stops later, with my internal monologue asking when it's the appropriate time to wake someone up in case they miss their stop even if you don't know what their stop is (and I'll admit with my curiosity getting the better of me), I looked back at Mr Sleepy*.
He was wide awake and staring right at me.
I looked away quickly, trying not to laugh- it's always awkward when you catch someone's eye on public transport, because this is London and you're supposed to avoid any interaction with your fellow commuter at all costs. All the same though I acknowledge that this is quite a tragic social state to be in, and I find it quite entertaining. I quickly put it out of my mind.
A little down the line though I got the heebie-jeebie feeling out of the corner of my eyes that I was being watched again. I quite firmly chose to ignore it; it's really easy to get into a glance-towards-glance-away match with someone on public transport, where one person wonders why the other is staring at them, whilst the other is thinking the exact same thing.
I forgot about it for a bit, but happened to look in Mr Sleepy's direction again (this time by accident- I promise). He was looking in my direction again, but quickly diverted his gaze as mine crossed his.
What was it this time? Did I have something in my teeth? Fluff in my hair? Had I smeared something on my face but not realised it or had my eyeliner melted halfway down my face in the humidity? (All of these have happened to me on the tube before, of course). I surreptitiouly flicked my phone out to check my reflection on the blank screen (because I didn't want to appear vain and actually get my compact mirror out). Nope, nothing. What was this guy's problem?
A bit later on in the journey after a bit more ignoring I cautiously, suspiciously looked around in his direction again, to find him almost pointedly staring at the door to the next carriage, away from me. Good, I thought, now I can continue my personal journey in peace.
Finally Mr Sleepy's stop came and it was time for him to step off. Instead of just getting up and exiting the door right next to him though, he crossed the carriage to go through the doors just past me. I didn't think much of it as he did- I do stupid things like that all the time- but I avoided looking up because I was feeling a little bit embarrassed by now (like a real Londoner, rather than the social semi-freak that I am).
As the doors closed behind him I allowed myself to look up one last time at Mr Sleepy- who I still conceded was good-looking- and found him watching me right back as he headed up the stairs and my train pulled away.
The penny dropped. Oh. Damn. If only I'd just smiled.
At least I can add this to the growing list of incidents involving the Y chromosome (since my ex knocking the confidence-stuffing out of me four times over, that is) that assure me that I'm not an utter troll. And to Mr Sleepy- in the unlikely event that you're reading this- I was the girl on the Northern Line to Edgware in the Totoro T-shirt with the long brown hair. Sorry I didn't twig- I'm smiling now to make up for it.
~Fin~
*Sometimes to pass the time I temporarily name my fellow passengers- the guy next to Mr Sleepy was Brighteyes because he had really striking eyes, the girl next to him Wondergirl Assassin because she was stunning, had really sleek black hair and looked like she could be a glamorous assassin, and the guy next to me was Mr I-Got-No-Strings because he'd fallen asleep in a completely slumped position also popular with train snoozers, like a puppet with all the strings cut.
Wednesday, 1 August 2012
Short Stories: A Real-Life Golden Snitch
It's my mum's birthday on Friday, and she requested a croquembouche instead of a birthday cake this year (which is fair enough, since I made a pretty massive Chinese-style birthday cake for my dad's birthday only about three weeks ago). Since I work 9-5, practise the piano and do the odd fitness class/ make myself skip almost every day if I'm not at a fitness class, I've been preparing it since this Monday (it's Wednesday night now).
This evening I've been making the vanilla crème patissière filling, finishing off the white chocolate roses I've been crafting which I'll be decorating the croquembouche with, along with some milk chocolate leaves (which are evil to make, by the way), and then spraying them with edible gold lustre. There's also been great big fat bluebottle flying around whilst I worked.
Whilst I was spraying my chocolate flora (and I SWEAR this didn't happen on purpose), the bluebottle managed to fly straight into the stream of the spray.
So there's now a very bling bluebottle flying around. Every so often I catch it glinting in the corner of my eye- it makes me laugh because it's just like a tiny golden snitch.
Friday edit: here's the finished article, incidentally:
This evening I've been making the vanilla crème patissière filling, finishing off the white chocolate roses I've been crafting which I'll be decorating the croquembouche with, along with some milk chocolate leaves (which are evil to make, by the way), and then spraying them with edible gold lustre. There's also been great big fat bluebottle flying around whilst I worked.
Whilst I was spraying my chocolate flora (and I SWEAR this didn't happen on purpose), the bluebottle managed to fly straight into the stream of the spray.
So there's now a very bling bluebottle flying around. Every so often I catch it glinting in the corner of my eye- it makes me laugh because it's just like a tiny golden snitch.
 |
| Maybe I should craft a little golden white chocolate fly in its honour? |
Friday edit: here's the finished article, incidentally:
 |
| Vanilla bean crème patissière- filled profiteroles with muscavado ganache, milk chocolate leaves and white chocolate roses. All hand-made from scratch by yours truly. |
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