Archive for the 'Around the town' Category

In search of a photograph

February 1st, 2009

I decided to go into town yesterday.

I got some library books out last November and they were cluttering the place, so I thought I had better return them.

On the way, I called into the local shop to get the paper. 

I was greeted with a big grin – ‘We have got your tobacco at last, Grandad’ he said.  Five fucking weeks and he expects me to be grateful?  I thanked him anyway and told him his wife and children would be released unharmed.

This did cheer me up a bit so I sang quietly to myself as I drove into town.

I managed to get my usual spot right outside the library.  It’s one of those places with a sort of weird wheelchair thing painted on the road but it is always empty.

I returned my books and took a saunter around the stacks.  No sign of “Headrambles” anywhere, so I complained to the head librarian. 

‘It’s on order’ says he.  ‘There is a waiting list for it.  Do you want to be added?’

’Nah!’ I said.  ‘I have already read it.  It’s not much good anyway’ and I left.

I decided to take a stroll up to the bookshop for a laugh.

The first thing I saw when I entered was a big display.  They were flogging a book by Barack Obama.  Now, it would be nice to have a best seller on my hands, but I’ll be damned if I am going to get myself elected as President of America just to get one.  That is just too high a price to pay, and I don’t fancy living in The White House anyway.

I checked the best seller rack anyway, just in case.  No sign.

I checked the new releases rack.  No sign.

I checked the Irish releases rack.  No sign.

I checked under fiction, hobbies, gardening, science and children’s.  No sign, so I asked the assistant.

She brought me to the humour section for some reason, and there it was.  ‘You’re in luck’ says she.  ‘There is one left.’

Fuck that.  I came to photograph a nice block of books, not a single copy.  It looked sort of sad there stuck between “The Mega Book of Useless Information” and “Bad Cat”.

It wasn’t an entirely wasted journey though.  I was getting very tired of our shopkeeper’s wife and her constant bitching.

I’ll be glad to be rid of her.

book_on_shelf

‘Tis the season to be jolly

November 23rd, 2008

If I hear any more “music”, where the “lyrics” contain the words Santa, Christmas, Wonderful, Snow or Jolly, I am going to go ballistic.

Does anyone actually likes this tacky sickly stuff?

Does this shite actually put people in a festive mood?

How do people work in shops where they are blaring out this rubbish non-stop?

I would rather have my eardrums perforated with red hot needles.

Yuletide jollies, my bollox.

Next time I hear it, I’m going to kill someone.

Free parking

August 9th, 2008

I had to go into town yesterday.

As you may have gathered, I hate driving into town.  I hate the traffic, and I hate all the traffic lights.  But most of all I hate finding parking.

Parking in town is a nightmare, as they have removed all the car parks.  And then they have the gall to charge me if I do find a spare space.

I cruised around and actually found a space just outside the opticians.

This was fairly lucky, as it was the opticians I was going to, to pick up the first of my pairs of glasses.

I was going to nip in and collect them, and not bother with paying for the parking, but then I realised there was a warden sniffing around.

I hate parking wardens.

He was an ugly brute, but I went up to him and said “excuse me”.

He glowered at me, because I presume he thought I was going to pick a fight.

I gave him my most endearing smile, which isn’t easy when faced with a parking warden, and told him I had no change for the meter.  I said I was just going to nip into the nearest shop and get some, and would he mind looking after the car while I was gone. 

He must have been relieved that there wasn’t a row in the offing, because he agreed to do it.

I nipped into the opticians, and collected my glasses.  They are my prescription sunglasses, but they haven’t put the tint on yet, so I don’t have to look like someone from the CIA all the time.

I came out of the shop and the warden was still there, looking after the car and chatting to Sandy, who by now was sitting in the driver’s seat.

I thanked him profusely, and said that the shop wouldn’t give me change, and that I was too honest to park without paying so I would have to go home and come back another day.  This impressed him, and he said that was no problem and wished me a safe journey.

The glasses are nice.  I can see better than ever.

I like them.

But most of all, I like parking wardens.

Down at heel

May 10th, 2008

I went into town yesterday.

Town has always been a haven for Skobies, and I was shocked to find that they were in a minority.  The place has been overrun with foreigners.  I was relieved though to see that the foreigners are learning fast.

All the foreign girls are getting pregnant as fast as they can, and are pushing prams around to get into practice.  They are getting very adept at the knack of pushing a pram while lighting a cigarette and talking loudly into their mobile phones all at the same time.

All the foreign lads are learning the tricks of hanging around the betting shops and throwing empty lager cans at their passing women.

In no time at all, Skobieville will be back to normal, but with different languages.

One of the reasons I went into town was to buy a pair of shoes, as the soles had fallen off my old ones.

I’m fussy about shoes.  I couldn’t give a damn what they look like as long as they are comfortable and hard wearing.  I went through quite a selection before finding a lovely pair.  The girl who was serving me had a lovely pair too.  [She was foreign, of course]

I was about to pay when Herself turned up.  I threw her out because she was smoking a fag, and that’s not allowed in town.  But she put it out, and came back in.

“You’re not buying those?” she said in horror.

“Why not?”

“Because they are lime green.  You’d look a right eejit.”

“What about these then?”

“No.  Not in a thousand years.”

“Why not?”

“Because they have little lights that flash in the heels.  Everyone will laugh at you.”

I sighed, and picked an ordinary pair of shoes.  They weren’t quite as comfortable as the others, but I prefer discomfort to nagging.

The only problem is that the heels aren’t quite as thick as the old ones.  So if I stand still for more than a moment or two, I fall over backwards. Herself has to keep picking me up.

Serves her right for being so picky.

Getting dressed for the occasion

November 14th, 2007

I had to go into town yesterday, as I mentioned.

It was a typical town visit – I sat around for hours while Herself vanished. Once she gets a smell of a shop she dematerialises like something out of Star Trek, and I don’t see her for ages. Then she re-materialises, laden down with stuff we don’t need. She has even phoned me on occasions to tell me which shop she’s in. The strange thing is that I’m in that shop at the time and I still can’t see her.

Anyway, I digress.

The main object of the exercise was to get myself kitted out. The invitation said ‘black tie’ but that’s daft. You’d freeze to death wearing only a black tie, and anyway, I’d have nowhere to put my pipe and tobacco. So I phoned a friend [I'd already asked the audience, and done a 50:50 but they were useless]. The friend said that what they really meant was a monkey suit. Why the hell couldn’t they say?

So I went off and got fitted.

I am going to look great on the night. Very suave. very elegant. Very distinguished.

gorilla

I can practice my guerilla tactics on the audience..?

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