Great people aren’t always that great.
It’s a serious question.
In my very humble and slightly nosey opinion they don’t seem to say much. Not whilst at the pool, shopping or even whilst sipping a few cockatails (the drunk version of cocktails).
I’m on a short break. Solo…I am an adult in my 40s so it is allowed.
But…can I just say….being single…
I don’t think I’m missing out on much. I’m currently sat overlooking the Mediterranean Sea with a bottle of sol and some ok background music. There are two couples, one on the right, one on the left. They have said less to each other than me…me and the barmaid and them.
It’s a pattern, not a one off. You notice these things when you are enjoying sangria and food whilst watching the world go by.
I’ll stick with being single for a bit. I have better conversations with myself than this lot.
If you are in a couple and are on holiday please chat away (in a language I understand)….how else am I to listen in 🤣!
I never really noticed before how many socks I had. Then my mother bought me some (more) for Christmas. Firstly this is seriously reflective of my age. Worse than this however, she has always bought me socks or tights (never stockings) for a stocking (the irony) filler.
Anyway…my sock, tight, pant, stocking (ha I sneak them in myself) drawer has become increasingly full.
So full I took on the task of counting them. Socks are the one type of item in that drawer I feel I could easily reduce. Mainly due to my general tendency towards dresses and heels. Pants will never be non-essential; each to their own though!
39! Yes seriously. What the actual…. when did this happen? That’s proper pairs too. I chuck the ones I can’t pair (two wash rule).
39 is more than the number of pairs of shoes I have. I should probably admit I didn’t count them today but….I had a clear out of shoes before Christmas. It was a rather large mountain I put into recycling so I am confident they now number less than 39. I digress.
What do I do with this information? Why did I even count them? Am I really that bored today? Am I slightly mad? How do I chose what to bin?
Let’s face it I need to bin some. 39 is ridiculous.
Does anyone else have a sock issue? Are you all now running to count them? I doubt it but it would amuse me if I started a Sunday craze 🙌
Header image: Sandy Millar @Unsplash.com
It’s been a while. It’s been that kind of year. Time has taken its time. It’s been…it’s been boring.
So boring in fact that my musings have been diverted from yoga, socialising, good looking barmen, good looking men, good looking pictures of men…I digress.
Having a small stint of working from home (why do people rave about this?!) I have found myself confronted with a view into colleagues’ kitchens, living rooms and home offices. The one thing I can’t get my head around is why so many people have (behind their heads usually) a rather large clock.
I get the popularity of such items back in the 80’s. But in 2020 the last thing we want to see is a mahoosive reminder of time! Yes yes I know It hasn’t been a total waste of a year. In some ways I love the opportunity of a year out. But clocks? Back to the point…what is the point?
Time is everywhere. On our watches, phones, laptops, computers, televisions, Alexa’s etc. etc. So whilst I’m happy to be wrong about this, I really don’t see the need of a big kitchen clock. Even more so a big kitchen clock behind ones head whilst they are staring into a virtual meeting.
I asked one unlucky individual if they even used their clock. I got a quizzical look. The answer, of course, was yes. But really!! I’m a little suspicious it was an immediate reaction rather than a solid evaluation.
I mean if you have a wall clock how often do you go past it and look? Does your internal dialogue comment “oh look it’s 10.40am I must check back again later to see what time it is”?
Yes I am honestly curious about this. Maybe I am missing out. I have to admit I doubt it; but open to good clocking debate.
If you missed my carrot tale…the one where my neighbour in basically said I was rubbish at gardening…then check it out here.
Fast forward, ooh, almost four months. Basically the months that time forgot. My carrots were slowly growing. Growing from seeds into a big, mahoosive, ok adequate sized but fully fledged and hopefully edible carrots.
This was important to me. Slightly childish, yes, but important none the less. When I stuck to my guns and didn’t give up my last bastion of relaxation away from work (especially important when nothing else in Edinburgh has been happening) who knew that success would come. A kind of coup, if you, will from the tyranny of the ‘controlling communal garden’ neighbour.
To be fair his veg have also done ok. But…he stuck to onions. I have onions too! Still a little small owing to the colder climate, but I have them and they look bloody better than his!
I am surprised, as will everyone I know, that my veg worked out. For me the outcome is not always the point of it. I enjoy having a couple of raised beds. I oddly get excited about things growing into food. And whilst I am not bloody Monty Dom even his carrots don’t always work. He just plants about four different types so that one of them will. Well Monty (and the garden warden, aka ‘that’ neighbour) how about my carrots.
I’ll leave you with a photo (actually my carrots in my photo!!!). And a couple of wise words to the neighbour.
P.s. gardening is actually rather relaxing. Im going to make soup with these carrots and whilst I am amused at how well they have done (to annoy my neighbour), I am more happy about them just actually growing.