You've got to love cold-callers. Well, someone has to, I suppose!

Did you know, that our sewers need cleaning out regularly? No, I didn't know that either (because I don't have a dirty mind, boom boom) but apparently so, and it can't be done with a little robot either. No, they have to send someone down to do it, and this leads me on to a very important question: How did that guy get that job? I mean, I'm not going to knock someone who does it, because I wouldn't do it and it therefore makes him or her far braver than me, but it's not exactly a regular response to the standard "what do you want to be when you grow up" question, is it? So how does this person end up doing it? You've got to be seriously dedicated to do it, or took the phrase "I'll take anything going" a little too literally. Can you imagine the sudden fear on their faces when, at a party, someone asks "so, what do you do?". How do you explain that one?



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People's dignity: cheaper by the day, it seems.

So there I was, in the queue at a shop in Cambridge to buy a pair of shoes, as you do, and I can see him at the end. He's wearing the kind of cringe-worthy blazer that someone dons when they've just proudly bought a boat, and insist on calling everyone "skipper". He had a straw-woven hat that matched the awful ensemble that he was sporting, and had a John Thompson-esque goatee. His wife was next to him, with that "sun-kissed" skin that could only remind me of a ten year old sofa. I don't like making snap judgements about people I've never met, but I couldn't shift the belief that these two are the kind of folks who are full to the brim of their own pompous opinions, and take great enjoyment in broadcasting them to everyone.



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A small German has managed to lift my spirits!

Right now, the weather is cold, with no hint that it will start warming up for months. To cheer us all up even further, we're told as well that we should expect our winters to become even colder due to global warming. Only in England could we get global warming only to see our weather get even colder! Apparently, we'll all be buried under eleventeen hundred feet of snow while we regale our children about the legend of "The Lost Underwater City of Norwich".

We also have been watching the numbers at the petrol station tick up to £1.30 a litre in some places. This is a lot of money, considering 90p a litre was enough to spark a fuel protest 10 years ago. This is getting a bit silly now, considering that most people who work rely on a car, and the electric alternative is simply impractical (unless you live in Central London, in which case it's merely embarrassing) and still quite dangerous. Apparently, as cars like the G-Wiz are classed as "quadricycles" and not a car (and the difference is...) they don't have to meet the same safety standards as an equivalent vehicle powered by small explosions. On an NCAP-style test, it transpired that a G-Wiz driver would end up having to pick his legs out of the back seat , and he'll need a Dyson to vacuum up his pelvis. I wouldn't drive one, even if the alternative was to be forced to use public transport. Apparently, some lobby group for these contraptions say it's not fair to test a "quadricycle" against a car in such a fashion. Do they think they'll crash in a different way?

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Ahh, the joys of moving. Shame about the estate agent.

This week, I have mostly been moving. It's a little overrated, in my opinion. I'd forgotten how frustrating it is dragging stuff up stairs that you've had to disassemble, followed by being totally baffled at the procedure of putting it back together again. There's also the factor of "settling in", which is a cosy euphemism for living out of your bags for a couple of days, not having a clue where anything is, not knowing how to turn the hot water on and forgetting that you had to turn the fridge on, so you have no snacky food to make you feel better. You'd have a cup of tea, but the kettle is in a box. Somewhere. Also, why is it that new homes have that strange smell? You know, that smell that you only get when you go into someone else's house, that leaves you wondering what your own "house-smell" smells like to others?



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A Little Effort Goes A Long Way.

I don't want to come across as a grumpy-guts, but I hate having to go to the supermarket. I don't like how they're always cold when you step in, I find it ironic that they sell you cigarettes right by the front door yet make you walk all the way to the back to pick up your medicine, and I dislike how they compare the prices of two very similar things using different measurements, where they say "this one is £1.50 per 100g" and "that one is £14 per Kilo". Really? Is it truly that hard to get some kind of consistency? C'mon, this isn't politics so don't try and deceive us.



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I went to this networking meeting, and all I got was this lousy sales pitch!

So I'm in the shower, right, and the phone rings. A friend of mine is awaiting confirmation of a new fantastic job and wants to tell me when they get it. Another friend, who has been entered into the Guinness Book Of Records for speaking drivel for years on end, was also due to call me soon. So I hop out, grab a towel and charge to the phone. When I pick up with an excited "Hello" I am not greeted with a friendly voice, but the classic "Hello sir, my name is ... Malcolm... and I am calling from whatevercompanyitistoday. How are you today, Sir?".

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