never a dull moment on the island

I’m loading cherries into the clear plastic bag. The rain is coming down hard. The wind shakes the shutters. I half expect to see the apples sitting outside lift off and roll onto the cobblestones.

The lady on my right side is screaming “Brussels sprouts! We need brussels sprouts!” across the market to her partner as I continue loading up my bag. Her arms are waving frantically, and she has a notebook and pencil in her hand. Her is hair is pulled over to the side, she looks rushed and stressed.  “Brussels sprouts! Steve, don’t forget the brussels sprouts.”

I look out of the corner of my eye, in hopes that for me, and the rest of the people within ear shot, this man is getting the damn brussels sprouts. He’s not. He’s looking at asparagus. Somewhat amusingly, completely ignoring the screams.

The lady is now making hand gestures, as to illustrate what brussels sprouts look like. I hurriedly load more cherries into my bag, sensing if I hear the word one more time, I’m going to be somehow transported back to my parents kitchen table and forced to eat them. I shudder at the thought. It’s the one vegetable I hate.

As I grab the twist tie and wrap up my cherries I see the lady pick up an orange from the pile of fruit next to her. My eyes widen. She’s totally going to chuck it at him.  I’m going to witness produce meltdown and I’m right in the cross fire. I feel as though I should warn him its coming, but it’s happening too fast. I simply step back and watch it unfold.

The orange flies through the air, hitting him in the shoulder. He looks up. The orange bounces on the concrete floor. He’s not really shocked an orange just flew across the room to awaken him from his fuzzy state. She yells, “Will you get the fucking brussels sprouts!”

He turns around to face her, lifting up his left hand, which is holding a bag of fucking brussels sprouts, and shakes his head.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing and go up and pay for my cherries.

Fucking brussels sprouts. Always causing grief.

muppets

Managed to make it back to Londontown, although the journey took about 5 hours. It normally takes an hour.

We are not heading to France, as Eurostar ques are about 8 hours long.

Heathrow’s main terminals are no longer accepting travelers. Although I am hopeful, I do not think I will be home for Xmas. At least I am in good company, and more things are opening now. Most things were closed this weekend.

Britain, especially the south are incredibly unprepared for any type of weather change. It’s actually quite appalling how things are being handled. I don’t feel like going into full on rant mode at the moment, but I will say I had a laugh when on the train today back from Oxford and we were literally packed in like sardines and the bloody rail service managed to push on a tea trolley (which took up about 5 spots) instead of more passengers.

I’ve never heard more people yell obscenities at once.

I guess someone thought that even though the rail cars had no heat, one might fancy lamb and mint crisps.

a place for my stuff

Much to my dismay, little elves did not come in the middle of the night and neatly pack away all my belongings.

Instead, I woke up this morning forgetting I had boxed myself into my bedroom and tried on a pair of bankers boxes for skates, sailed down the hallway, finally, crashing into a giant pile of bubble wrap. This is what I get for refusing to turn on the lights because they make that insistent hum. It’s a good thing my new place does not have overhead lighting. As stumbling around in the dark to find a lamp will be much more effortless then scaling the wall for a switch. Definitely.

This is the first move I will be attempting where I actually have furniture I care about, so I have invested in stretch plastic furniture wrap, and I must admit, it’s awesome. The last time I moved a bed it was my futon in university and I flung that thing from my balcony to the street and someone picked it up and took it for themselves by the time I had got outside.  The same thing also happened with my couch, kitchen table and dresser. Did I mention this was also how I found all the furniture in the first place? Ah, I miss Kingston.

I also miss having my mother around in situations like these. I can’t recall my dad ever visiting me while I was away, but my mom (given her amazing ability to throw my stuff out) is a good person to have around when purging, and would always make the drive to help out. She’s also freakishly strong, given her small frame. I have suspected for many years, there might be a bit of Rosie from The Jetsons in there.

Any interesting moving stories? Debacles or triumphs?

p.s. I hope this forecast is true.

7 random pictures i snapped that made me smile today

♥ street art.

antique shops sandwiched between a tea shop? no wonder i love main street.

mmm chai. some of the best in the city at east is east.

i wonder what ever happened to my doorknob documentary?

first round of mojitos. followed by yummy plantains.

oh irony.

puppets creepier?

it might have been the jager bombs

I rang in the new year, shoes in hand, dancing barefoot and singing out loud to The Pogues and Dropkick Murphys, among friends. I haven’t had that much fun dancing in a long while. Then about 20 minutes into the year, I had my first puke, chugged some water and continued dancing until 2am.

Sometimes, you just have to throw up, right?

As always the drunk walk home in search of poutine was another highlight of the night. Unable to climb stairs at that point due hours dancing in 4 inch heels, I was left outside and propped up against a tree. I assured the Boy I was fine, and he followed my friends into order food. They should have warned him I wander when left alone and drunk.

He found me later down the street, giving people directions.

Hope you all had a good night!

How are you spending the first day of the year? It’s gonna be a PJ day for me, finally! Last day of vacation and all.

mash

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve just been walking down the street and thought, you know, I could totally go for mashed potatoes in a cone.