Generally my dreams are a load of tripe: for example, the one about trying to catch pigs in a flooded field whilst carrying a washing machine. Whilst being chased by anthromorphic articulated lorries*. This was a particular stand out in my catalogue of anxiety-ridden sleep time brain vomitings.
I prefer the pigs with the strawberries
DO NOT LIFT
Last night I had an epiphany. Does anyone else have dreams that come in a series? Hopefully not just me – but if it is just me, please send me the number of a good therapist.
However, I digress. Occasionally I get to have a season finale, and so it was last night. I have been dreaming about binning off lectures, skiving off tutorials and failing to hand work in for years. Hilariously, once I actually graduated, I dreamt that I had started a new degree and I was repeating the pattern. BA (Hons) Media Communications to be exact.
Last night I graduated from the fictional degree, and got a Third – and then had the realisation that a) I had a degree already so it didn’t matter all that much and b) had a much better grade. And oddly enough, woke up feeling pretty good about myself.
Brain, I could have done with this a few years ago, you twat.
*Though any inference you might hazard to make about the fact that I was married to my first husband at the time is purely coincidental.
I’ve recently been away for work and it’s involved being on trains, in hot weather and often suited and booted – which is never a good way to travel at the best of times. It’s not like I’m expecting the Orient Express, but not being repulsed by the rest of my species would be a good starter for 10.
1. People who eat fish sandwiches. That have been allowed to warm up a bit.
Really, I like fish and I was trying not to breathe in lest I chunder. Followed by equally stinky crisps. I’m not one of natures’ spewers, but it’s not like you can ask the person in your overstuffed carriage to go sit somewhere else, or sureptitiously shove hankies up your nostrils until they’ve stopped eating.
2. Getting your ugly feet out for all to see. The only people who should get their feet out on trains are babies. Or at least the folk who’ve worn comfy shoes for most of their lives so they don’t have the trotters of some grotesque hobbit/pterodactyl hybrid.
3. Manspreading – I know it’s hot but really? I need more than one buttock on a seat at a time. If you have a good solid reason for taking up this much space to ensure that “things” get air, at very least I demand either; a doctors note, and/or a letter from your partner.
4. Business folk who think they are terribly important. At the end of the day, we’re just trying to make a living, so why be a cockwomble?
I suppose earlier generations had to sit through all this huffing and puffing with the invention of television, the phone, cinema, radio, the car, the bicycle, printing, the wheel and so on, but you would think we would learn the way these things work, which is this:
1) everything that’s already in the world when you’re born is just normal;
2) anything that gets invented between then and before you turn thirty is incredibly exciting and creative and with any luck you can make a career out of it;
3) anything that gets invented after you’re thirty is against the natural order of things and the beginning of the end of civilisation as we know it until it’s been around for about ten years when it gradually turns out to be alright really.
Apply this list to movies, rock music, word processors and mobile phones to work out how old you are.
1. That the world really doesn’t care that you’ve got a bit of knee stubble. This is real life, not Heat magazine and a gigantic red circle is not going to suddenly appear around whatever perceived mistake you’ve made with your grooming.
2. Fake tan, if applied with a cautious hand, does not necessarily make you look like a clementine in a frock.
3. Sometimes accidentally buying a dress that’s 2 sizes too small is not a disaster.
4. It’s possible to bruise your pelvis.
5. That parents, who find that they rein themselves all the time, will, once the cocktails have kicked in, suddenly develop Tourette’s (or is that just me?).
6. Eating like a ravening frothing carb beast is the key to preventing hangovers. Small child has been playing the tiny squeaky trumpet and due to general freshness, I don’t want to curl into a ball and rock in a corner…
And thus we’re blessed with lighter nights and yellow nodding blossoms,
To cast off winters gloomy plight and all that’s old and rotten,
Birds bellow in the early morn and snow and dark forgotten,
But tell me why you bring to me a rash upon my bottom?
*heartily slaps self in stark realisation that writing doggerel in the style of William McGonagal about allergies is unforgivable*