beeeeep!
Irritability
I've mentioned before how I can get irritated at the slightest thing, usually out of proportion to the thing itself. But not for very long... unless something else irritates me some more. Then it keeps going.
Attempting to get back home this afternoon seemed like a trial from some higher power. Everywhere I went, there were slow cars, buses and tractors blocking my way. Then there were roadworks with traffic lights, with a big queue which mostly seemed to be the fault of a bus. Any time I tried to get around it I encountered more slow vehicles holding me up. Needless to say, I got a mite tetchy.
Now, at home I can't park by the house. There's no drive, no real place to park on the road. The small open area in front of the house is used by other people and my mother; there is space for four cars, and no more. All those spaces are filled. So I have to park in the pub carpark, which is only a hundred yards away, so it's not that bad.
When I got home, the carpark was almost full, and, well, after I had a bit of a childish tantrum (very pissed off) I parked rather badly. For some reason, the owner of the pub was standing around outside, and took perhaps understandable exception to the way I had parked.
I can only imagine that he had been having a very bad day himself, because he seemed to take my behaviour (it was of the non-conversational, glowering and walking off variety) and the fact that I park there very personally, yelling about how I had been there eighteen months and never said a word (i.e. not gone into his pub and spent any money), blah blah blah. I wasn't very polite to him, either, but still in the non-talking, walking off way. So he called me an "insolent little cunt" and banned me from parking in that carpark again.
I don't take part in the oh so exciting social life of this little village. I've been in the pub twice, and it's an old man's village pub. Not interested.
I wonder what had happened to put the guy in that bad a mood.
So now I have four parking options. Make my mother park in the pub carpark when I'm home; force someone else to do so by taking up their spot; park on the side of the road and risk my car being trashed by one of the many huge lorries that go by day and fucking night; or park in that carpark anyway and see what jollity comes next.
Oh, and if that guy had come knocking on our door afterwards, I'd be locked up in the local police station now. I was ready to do murder, I tell ya.
Irritability
I've mentioned before how I can get irritated at the slightest thing, usually out of proportion to the thing itself. But not for very long... unless something else irritates me some more. Then it keeps going.
Attempting to get back home this afternoon seemed like a trial from some higher power. Everywhere I went, there were slow cars, buses and tractors blocking my way. Then there were roadworks with traffic lights, with a big queue which mostly seemed to be the fault of a bus. Any time I tried to get around it I encountered more slow vehicles holding me up. Needless to say, I got a mite tetchy.
Now, at home I can't park by the house. There's no drive, no real place to park on the road. The small open area in front of the house is used by other people and my mother; there is space for four cars, and no more. All those spaces are filled. So I have to park in the pub carpark, which is only a hundred yards away, so it's not that bad.
When I got home, the carpark was almost full, and, well, after I had a bit of a childish tantrum (very pissed off) I parked rather badly. For some reason, the owner of the pub was standing around outside, and took perhaps understandable exception to the way I had parked.
I can only imagine that he had been having a very bad day himself, because he seemed to take my behaviour (it was of the non-conversational, glowering and walking off variety) and the fact that I park there very personally, yelling about how I had been there eighteen months and never said a word (i.e. not gone into his pub and spent any money), blah blah blah. I wasn't very polite to him, either, but still in the non-talking, walking off way. So he called me an "insolent little cunt" and banned me from parking in that carpark again.
I don't take part in the oh so exciting social life of this little village. I've been in the pub twice, and it's an old man's village pub. Not interested.
I wonder what had happened to put the guy in that bad a mood.
So now I have four parking options. Make my mother park in the pub carpark when I'm home; force someone else to do so by taking up their spot; park on the side of the road and risk my car being trashed by one of the many huge lorries that go by day and fucking night; or park in that carpark anyway and see what jollity comes next.
Oh, and if that guy had come knocking on our door afterwards, I'd be locked up in the local police station now. I was ready to do murder, I tell ya.
"Speak when you are angry - and you will make the best speech you'll ever regret." - Laurence J. Peter (1919 - 1988)
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message left by Fool at 23:45 
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