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OK, so ten days really isn't anywhere close to my average hiatus, but as we're only a couple of weeks into the new year it really doesn't bode terribly well, does it?
Oh well. We'll see.
On the whole, it's been a pretty quiet week. In fact, the only notable event that particularly sticks in my mind was traveling back on the train one evening. It was completely packed when I got on, so I had to stand. This was made even more uncomfortable by the presence of the person behind me who seemed to be trying to get me to move (where to, I've no idea -- there was literally no other space into which I could have squeezed). There is something quite alarming about having one's buttocks so intentionally rubbed by another, mysterious gluteus maximus -- at least on the Thameslink. Other situations might call for it, but none with which I'm particularly familiar, needless to say.
As I am fairly stubborn (at least on occasion), I refused to let myself be intimidated and I held my ground. Fortunately, after the first stop, half the train appeared to pile out. The intimidarse moved, and I took the opportunity to move across to the other half of the train, and secure myself a seat of a different kind. I risked a glance to see who had been behind the behind, and was quite surprised to note it was a rather professional looking woman in a business suit. I was even more surprised when she moved across from where she'd initially been sitting to a seat available opposite me.
No sooner had she sat down, she leaned across towards me.
"Have you got a pen?", she demanded.
I reached into my pocket. Now, I don't usually carry pens around, but I'd had to write a birthday card en-route recently, and still had the one I used in my coat. Dumbstruck, I handed it over.
She proceeded to scribble furiously over some notes she'd been carrying with her for the rest of the journey. I daren't speculate as to their nature. After all, it's unlikely they were my every move for the last week. As long as I keep telling myself that, it's bound to be true, right?
Anyway, it became apparent that as the train pulled into my station that this was not also her stop. I made some hopeful gestures, to no avail. As the train slowed down, I had no choice.
I leant across.
"Sorry, this is my stop", I apologised in advance.
She looked up at me incredulously.
"You want your pen back?" (The cheek!)
"Um yes please", I mumbled.
She handed it back.
She looked me straight in the eye. "Don't worry. I'll get another one."
It was a statement of fact. As if she was about to invoke some kind of universal law of which I was previously unaware. I've no doubt she did.
I'm still not sure what to make of it all. I mean, none of that behaviour is normal, is it? To paraphrase Zaphod Beeblebrox, maybe I just need to turn my charisma down a notch. Seems unlikely though, doesn't it?
Very, very weird.
My arse isn't all that bad, considering what it looked like a few years ago. My Mrs showed that ChrisR photo of me to a colleague yesterday noting, "...and he got even fatter than THAT! He's only got two chins in that picture, he used to have THREE".
On another note, I got some Calvin Klein underwear for Christmas. It's the wonderbra for cocks, I tell you.
You should recommend them on Spunk.
BTW, would you be interested in the address of Simon "Wendy" James's online journal? He appears to be using it to express his more... sensitive side. Or possibly as a minge trap, given the number of ladies that turn up to fawn over his "deep and meaningful" outpourings.