You remember my friend Emma, right? Well, she's been acting really strangely recently, especially since she's bought a new 1980s built mid terraced property. It's not as if she's furnished it either - the ground floor currently contains two wing chairs, a tiled occasional table and two tins of chopped tomatoes in the almost bare kitchen cupboards. At a diminutive 5ft 1in tall, she was able to negociate a very cheap price for the previous owners' daughter's pink cabin bed. Their son's bed, a red racing car design is kept in one of the spare bedrooms and Emma's (now ex) boyfriend Andrew used to use that when he stayed the night, but at a lofty 6ft 3in his lower limbs protruded somewhat.
Emma has worked in the London Travelcard zone 2 for the past decade; she's happy with that because it's a huge saving on her commuting costs. It does mean, however, that she doesn't like paying extra to enter the fabled zone 1 and undertakes a bizarre ritual of purchasing a paper single ticket using her Goldcard discount.
A blog about a strange forty-something woman who lives in the London suburbs, likes wearing acrylic and saving money.
Wednesday, 21 September 2016
Thursday, 15 September 2016
Whatever Happened To Laura Smythe?
Is a question which you'll undoubtedly be pondering, especially as I don't update this blog quite as often as I'd like to. Well, sit down, make yourself a nice cup of Mellow Birds and enjoy.
Mrs Smythe is a difficult and often truculent woman, prone to fluctuations in mood and opinion. I'd been experiencing issues with her treatment of me for a while, but decided to retain a distance as I needed the money.
It all came to a head last Thursday and due to the excessive heat, things were brought to a head. I'd taken a longer lunchbreak than usual to pick up Father's elasticated stockings and a spare washable wig from the chemist. As ever, there was a queue because an old woman was arguing that her husband's supply of Viagara hadn't been sent to the branch in good time. This all meant that I was late back to work.
I tried to call Mrs Smythe's mobile phone, but it rang and rang without the voicemail picking up. This is one of the most annoying things about her: her inability to stump up for the useful things which only cost a few pennies.
I rang the Agency and quit, giving a week's notice, as per my contract. Life's too short to be miserable.
Mrs Smythe is a difficult and often truculent woman, prone to fluctuations in mood and opinion. I'd been experiencing issues with her treatment of me for a while, but decided to retain a distance as I needed the money.
It all came to a head last Thursday and due to the excessive heat, things were brought to a head. I'd taken a longer lunchbreak than usual to pick up Father's elasticated stockings and a spare washable wig from the chemist. As ever, there was a queue because an old woman was arguing that her husband's supply of Viagara hadn't been sent to the branch in good time. This all meant that I was late back to work.
I tried to call Mrs Smythe's mobile phone, but it rang and rang without the voicemail picking up. This is one of the most annoying things about her: her inability to stump up for the useful things which only cost a few pennies.
I rang the Agency and quit, giving a week's notice, as per my contract. Life's too short to be miserable.
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