Inconsideration

Today was what I’d call a Day of Annoyance. It was like the gods of misrule had decided I needed irritating. Well, they succeeded…handsomely.

My right foot
Yesterday, returning from putting the rubbish outside, I bashed my toe on the Ghost Prevention Ledge. Normally this would be okay but with my feet, nothing is normal so it hurt like buggery. It also ripped the flesh open on the top and underneath my big toe. I wrapped it in antiseptic and Elastoplast. It made walking very difficult because I had to twist my right foot to the side rather than use the big toe. So, walking to and around work was not easy today. The moments spent sitting at the desk with my right shoe off were bliss indeed.

Earplug hell
My journey home was underlined (heavily) by the woman sitting next to me with the bleeding earplugs. At least her choice of music was reasonably harmless (it was R&B) though I don’t remember asking her if I could listen to it. She joined the train at Woking and accompanied me all the way to Farnham. At Farnham she joined up with another earplug wearing woman asking if she’d like to share a taxi to some Christian camp because the bus wasn’t due for 45 minutes and they’d miss dinner.

Upper class parking
When Exhibition Road was made into a shared area I think the idea was for pedestrians to share the road with cars, bikes, buses and trucks. Some people, the kind that live on Exhibition Road at the fancy Georgian houses that are probably worth more than a small African country, think it means they can share the footpath with pedestrians. To quote Sheldon, “In what universe is this acceptable?”

Miscellaneous
The rest of the day was littered with irritating little incidents of people getting in my way or standing in front of ticket gates because they don’t know how to put their ticket in a slot or blocking doorways because they are just plain rude. Like I said above, it was just one of those days.

On a brighter note…I overheard this conversation on the basement level of the museum between an 8 year old boy and his mum. They had just left a bigger group which included, I think, grandma and second child in a pram waiting for the lift.

8 YEAR OLD: But I don’t like lifts.
MUM: It’s fine, honey. Look. It’s glass and everyone is perfectly happy.
8 YEAR OLD: No. I’d rather walk.
MUM: I don’t understand you. You catch the lift at home all the time.
8 YEAR OLD: But that’s MY lift. I know MY lift. This one is completely different. I don’t trust it.

It should be noted they were only going one floor.

Oh, and it was raining and very, very crowded, so I didn’t leave the museum cafe at lunchtime.