The backwards man

So I promised yesterday that I would tell you my immigrant story and that it wouldn't be like the Daily Mail headline generator which can be found here: http://www.qwghlm.co.uk/toys/dailymail/

Those of you who know me well will know that I have a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I am the queen of the disaster, so it came as no surprise last week when I witnessed a nasty accident on the tube.

Minding my own business on the down escalator, I was happily listening to some Dead Mau5 when out of the corner of my eye, I saw something toppling over backwards on the opposite escalator. On closer examination I could see a mans body, out cold, feet first going up towards bank. Very undignified, was my first thought, and thank goodness it wasn't a women in a skirt, was my second. Then I thought- fucks sake, why isn't anyone doing anything! The people behind the collapser were watching in horrified silence as his humilated body hurtled towards the top (well, chuntered).

Realising no-one was reacting in any appropriate way, I shouted out for someone to 'hit the emergency stop button' and 'NOW!'

No joy.

I ran down the escalator, hit the stop button, and pushed my way past the useless gawpers to the collapser- super woman style. It was then I could see why no-one was doing anything- a giant hole in the guys head, which was pissing blood like a hose. Having bitten off much more than I could chew, I started shouting at everyone around me to do something- get an ambulance, help me turn this guy gently around, try and stop the bleeding. After much grunting and pivoting, we managed to get him turned around so his feet were at least pointing downwards- a minor victory. It was then he came too. And he was pissed. Angry AND sozzled. I had wedged myself behind him to stop him slumping forward and in the process got myself covered in blood. He tried a couple of times to stand up, and I shouted at him to stay sitting down and wait for the ambulance. It was about then that I realised that he didn't speak a word of English. Luckily TFL staff appeared and one of them spoke to the chap in Polish. By this time he was properly shouting and waving his arms and she explained to me it was because he did not want to have an ambulance called.

Don't be so silly, I thought- how ridiculous. You have a 4 inch wide, gaping hole in your head. You don't have a choice.

The TFL lady looked at me with a worried expression, "he's not supposed to be here", "he can't go to hospital because they will find out and he might get sent home". Exasperated, I shouted at her, 'we NEED to phone an ambulance, we can't risk not calling one, look at the state of this man's head'. And so they did. I left with a wet wipe, covered in blood (nice handprint on my arm and cheek) and pretty much an entire carriage of the Northern Line to myself. And a horrid feeling of guilt. Had i done the right thing? What if this poor man ended up being seperated from his family? GAH. You can see why some people these days make the swift decision not to get involved. I for one am glad I did, but I'll forever wonder what happened when I left that evening.

Why the hell not

I have let myself down. I have promised and not delivered. I'm sure I'm the only one who really gives a damn, but I do feel somewhat guilty that I haven't been updating my blog. For one thing, it's brilliant to look back at my own antics and tut and laugh at them, for another- status lines just aren't long enough to tell the world everything I need to.

No more Miss Slack Ali.

So, what gives people? Well, the main thing that gives I suppose is that not only am I not split down the middle geographically, I'm not not split emotionally anymore. I'm in London proper like, and I'm happy and settled. CHRIST. When I write it it sounds so horrifically smug and dull. The thing with being happy is that when people ask you how things are going, you can say 'really well thanks, I'm so happy' and it's a conversation killer. You can't dissect exactly how happy you are. It would be painful. No-one really wants to know.

This isn't of course to say that I don't suffer from complete self indulgent middle class gloom from time to time. I do. It's in my genes. The good thing however, is that I now have someone in my life who doesn't react and calm and supportive. I think I might almost be a normal person now.

Of course this remains to be seen, and future blog posts may tell a different story.

I'm going to start back with posthumous posting about an incident I had with an illegal immigrant last week. I promise I won't be Daily Mail but it is an interesting quandary.

Turrah for now though....lunch beckons and my tummy is demanding Itsu chicken noodle soup.

The return of the ali-mal.

My good friend Anita occasionally has far too much to drink and becomes obnoxious, difficult, unhinged and quite frankly....nuts. On those occasions we call her 'Angemal' to embrace her animalistic qualities.

I, of late, have become my own special breed. The Ali-mal. It's fairly similar, but it's a slightly more self involved version because well, it's me.

I think it all stems from lots of changes in live. No. Not the menopause just yet (although I am getting those fecking oestrogen patches on my face after being in the sun which I was horrified to find out are known as 'widowers' something or other-geeez give me a break). The main change is that I decided that it was high time I took a long hard look at myself and work out what I want from life. Turned out I didn't want a boyfriend who wasn't around very much and when he was there wasn't the easiest company. And turned out that I'm really very bad at being with someone- just one person, long term.

So off the back of this has emerged a shiny, new (old), frisky, mischevious Ali. Old enough to know better but not overly fussed. Last weekend I actually threw up down my own t-shirt and this morning I spent the morning diagnosing what I must have eaten last night from the contents of the work sink. I'm embracing my fun side. I'm booking up to do things I'd never have done this time last year...like going to Glastonbury. ME! At Glastonbury. No more Maldives for me, I'm a changed lady. Hmmmmmmmm.

My resolution is to update my blog more frequently. So watch this space..

The big sulk

Sometimes in life too much happens and this means that keeping a blog becomes increasingly difficult- what do you give your time and love to? Should I cover important issues, or funny ones?

I have to also confess a slightly childish sulk at not being short listed for the Brighton and Hove Poxy Web awards. I mean those two bit hippies wouldn’t know a decent funny blog if it jumped up and bit them on their hemp covered bottoms (Dan and Jonathan’s blog aside of course). Anyway, enough is enough- what exactly has been going on in my life.

I’ll keep it to bullet points so you’re all in the picture without being desperately bored:

1) Holiday to Thailand- Bangkok- Chiang Mai, Samui, Koh Tao. Lovely- ate my own body weight in noodles and coconut milk and rather annoyingly didn’t pick up a severe case of the trots to shed aforementioned weight seamlessly. Am now moderate heifer. Managed fair few dives and took in some decent scenery including several strip joints and temples (and other places of worship). Met a lovely baby Elephant at the Elephant hospital, fell in love. Hairy little devil.

2) Day I left for holiday to Thailand got made redundant (whole company when into administration). Fantastic timing. Not only that but was told that I, along with all of my colleagues, would not be getting paid for the previous months work, or the 2 weeks of holiday I was about to leave for (in 4 hours!) or my notice period. Marvelous. Skint. Not able to undertake usual several hundred pound duty free binge. Ate sweaty 59p burger instead. Sulked.

3) Returned to family crisis- Dad has told Mum about new girlfriend. Mum slammed down phone. Communications meltdown. Torn between the two.

4) Return to Court Summons for unpaid Council Tax- a slight concern given awful financial circumstances. Thankfully all sorted now.

5) Am officially unemployed for 1 week. Make the heinous error of putting my CV on Monster in the ‘searchable’ section. Plagued by irritating swarm of recruitment consultants each more smarmy than the last. Become friend’s bitch dropping off dry cleaning, undertaking odd jobs. Feel lost and bored.

6) Start new job in Fulham. Bitch of a commute and longer working hours- 9-6pm. Due to ‘issues’ with my old employer have to be employed as a contractor = bag of shite as no holiday pay, sickness pay etc. On upside, some ‘financial stability’ over the Christmas period. No pay before x mas though so presents for family are looking grim- home made cookies anyone?

7) As luck would have it without 2 days of starting work pick up horrid bug and feel like have swallowed 10 razors. Have to work as overdraft is straining and bulging and Mr Bank Manager refusing to budge on any more handouts. Miserable fucker. Thank goodness for lovely boyfriend.

8) I think that’s about it. Of course there are lots more funny stories like the fact that Natalie’s boyfriend had to go and collect Dot Cotton from Croydon for a funeral over the weekend and the fact that Lindsey met Daniel Craig at the BAFTAS on Sunday, but they all make my poor, overdrawn existence seem depressing so I won’t dwell.

9) Steve’s talking about taking me to Tahiti in the New Year- must be exemplary girlfriend in meanwhile with minimal whining to stand chance. Without him I’d be holidaying in Skeggers for next decade.

10) I’ve been ill. This takes up lots of time moaning and whinging.

And that's me- bet you're glad you bothered!

Commitment phobes and the gainfully unemployed

Oh its all about phobias - 2 whole posts while the rightful blogger has been away and the best I can muster is phobias and making it a bit sam centric.

Ali will be back next week to write up about her holiday and maybe any issues she is having about being one of the unwashed masses :) For now though you will have to make do with yet another from me.

When Ali left I promised faithfully to make sure I kept up some interest in her blog and put something (anything) on here ever day. Did I heck. But then neither did the last guest bloggers so at least I am in a quietly ashamed little gang of meant well friends. Ali is due back and the sum total of blogs is two on her return - utterly shameful - but I can explain. I am also unemployed with a boytoy in the city who just about manages to grin and bare it. However much to everyones surprise I don't actually have a free minute to myself. Ok I do, but I fill it with useful things like sending letters to the solicitors or tending to the gas men fitting the boiler or reading because I promised faithfully (again) that I would have that book review in or going for a lunch time coffee with friends or a boozy lunch. Seriously now I don't know how people manage to have a life and work a 45 hour week. When I do work (which sometimes I have to) my house falls apart. Theres washing up left in the sink for days, theres a build up of dust that would disgust Kim and Aggie, the boytoy gets fed any old crud thats in the cupboard because I haven't managed to shop that week. The the weekend comes and it is taken up with cleaning and food shopping and paying for bills.

Obviously when Ali gets home she will be straight on to finding another job to keep her in shoes and handbags (and incidentals like a roof over her head) but I suspect she will struggle to actually find time. I don't miss slogging my guts out for a minute and I have a sneaking suspicion that neither will Ms Petite.

Back to normal soon, and I am sorry to say that, although giving my opinion is one of my favourite things to do as regular readers will know, I won't miss the commitment that a daily blog brings and I will be glad to get back to being gainfully unemployed

Odd Phobias

Anyone have one?
Until last Thursday night I was held high on a pedestal of Nutterdom that my worst phobia was tidal waves. This seemed ridiculous to most of my friends given we live(d) on the South East Coast which happens to be attached to the English Channel, one of the most unassuming bodies of water in the Northern Hemisphere.
Nice – that’s what the English Channel is. Until of course we bugger up the planet so royally that 3m high tidal surges are about to become the norm. The first I heard about the imminent danger my children were in was when son younger called to say he would be home early that Friday as school was closed (during the week they live on the most easterly point of England, somewhere called Lowestoft, which is so dull that Norfolk won't admit to it) due to adverse weather conditions. Well I thought this rather odd given there was no bad weather happening up above us and although they were 100 miles away a bit of rain never hurt anyone and it certainly wasn't about to snow so I checked the schools website for closures which is when the panic set in. My worst fear realised. Day After Tomorrow happening in Norfolk at 7am the following morning. I spent the next 3 hours trying hard not to worry but had to go via the children’s godfather for information which even he had to be pressured into getting for me (oh the trivialities of relationships). I was desperate to tell their father to get them out of their right now - Lowestoft was being advised to evacuate for God’s sake. What was he doing watching TV and sniggering at the hysterical ex wife for her melodrama.
The news just wouldn't give up on it (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/7085394.stm) and of course this fuelled my fears. By bedtime the boytoy had thrown enough gin into me that he could get a decent nights sleep and I passed out with the alarm set for 7am when the wave was due to hit the East Coast.
Boytoy and I woke at 7am Friday morning to watch the surfers of Great Yarmouth and Lowestoft having the time of their lives. A little bit of flooding up the coast but nothing that couldn't be dealt with and certainly not the massive loss of life that was expected the night before. This wasn't really any succor for my soul though. My children are now in danger of being in the English version of some Hollywood type end of the world and my worst fears are justified. Can't help but feel a little smug though that, once again, even though it may have taken a good many years to prove it, I was RIGHT. HA!!!

Ali Update

Hello there people. I am the assistant blogger while Ali is away sunning herself in Thailand. And what better place for her to be than on holiday given the day before she left she was "let go". I'm not giving anything away here and she asked that I cover this before her return so she can get on with stories of elephants up cliffs and how long she spent in the jacuzzi.

Clearly life over there in the slow lane is getting to her and she is worrying about just how much gossip she is missing out on. And so we don't forget her some of her bestest friends got a text at 4am this morning letting us know she is alive and well and possibly a bit squiffy. Bless

Now I have finally worked out how to get into the blog I shall be posting at least one more but I don't want anyone getting all excited and thinking I will be in the least bit more interesting than handbags, shoes or my latest star spot (Griff Rhys Jones so you know)