not making sense

I'm reading a book at the moment - one I got in a charity book shop, and one of the characters is a synaesthete - someone whose senses are mingled - for example they taste colours, see music, feel sound, hear pictures or smell temperature. I've never heard of this before and it really got me thinking about how we assume that everyone senses the same - but who's to say that when I smell a bacon buttie, it's exactly the same when someone else smells it. My mind is boggling way too much for a saturday night. I need to lie down.

Cleaning - just say no kids

I'm renting my house out next week as it's Gold Cup and I can make money out of staying at my parents for three nights. Not a particular burden with my parents whose main irritation factor is my dad typing loudly in the next room (yes, loudly, I don't know how he does it but he does). The only problem is I seem to have turned into the most slovenly individual that ever graced this planet. I'm that person in the film Se7en who is found murdered sat in their own revolting mess. I have a feeling that I will soon get a visit from a TV crew doing one of those programmes about people who live amongst their pizza boxes and cat litter. Perhaps I'll become famous though it and get to live in a house for 3 weeks with Peter Andre and Christine Hamilton. That'll be a whole weekend in marigolds coming up then...

Does anyone know the numebr for the helpline dedicated to the fact that Westlife might be splitting up?

Personal Space and mobiles

After having spent a day last week, and the first two days of this week in London I have some thoughts on life in our fair capital city. The primary thought, and it's by no means original, relates to the whole personal space on the tube thing. How anyone can stand having to commute everyday on that bloody thing is completely beyond me. Firstly you can't even get into the station because they say the platform is too crowded, then you stand there and watch 3 trains go past -you can see them, just can't quite get to them.. or get in. No-one's getting off so it's a bit like trying to squeeze my ample form into a size ten pair of jeans - there just ain't no more room honey. Then when you finally do get on it's nose to armpits all the way.
Coming back was much more civilised, but the best part was sitting in a carriage where a mum was reading "Thomas the Tank Engine" out loud to her son. All the businessmen with their financial times were trying to pretend they were interested in the market share of French Connection, but when mum had to stop mid-story to get off, you could see everyone was really frustrated to not find out if Edward was ever going to get out of the mud he'd been stuck in.

On my way back to cheltenham I had the unfortunate experience of sitting next to a David Brent clone with his mobile stuck to his ear. I started to count the number of times he said the name of the guy he was on the phone to - it's a real bugbear of mine, I find it so patronising - and the number of times he went "y'know" - another pet hate I have. The best bit was when he phoned a customer who had clearly been unhappy with his "service" and started to try and slime his way back into their good books- within about 3 minutes we went into a tunnel and he lost the connection. I was pissing myself - how not to impress an already disgruntled customer!

Overall, screw the whopping salary and cool urban lifestyle, give me a twenty minute drive to work, in the company of Terry Wogan/Jonny Walker, my own personal space and ability to sing my socks off to my hearts content... I'm happy!

Went to see School of Rock this evening - FAB! Unashamedly cheesy but not in an "I need to chunder into my popcorn" kind-of way. Wish 'd learnt bass guitar at the age of 10, then Id be cool.

We didn't like to say, but we knew some "victor meldrew" has always been in you

I shall ignore that comment Mr Stephens

PS - Only joking!

PPS - Better correct the capitalisation or the punctuation-police that is Mad will get you!

for your eyes only

Well after my dental hygienist experience I felt nothing could be worse, but then I spent 30 mins at the optician today where he rolled up my eyelids to see what was on the other side??!!! What the hell is happening to our health professionals?? I remember the days when you went to the optician and just looked at the red and green spots, and when you went to the dentist they just took a quick shufty in your mouth and gave you a pink tablet to eat after brushing. Now it seems unless they inflict pain and suffering as part of the service they've not quite performed to their peak.
(Is it doing a blog that brings out the victor meldrew in me, or was it lying there dormant...just waiting for the right opportunity to surface?)