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Peas and Queues
Sep. 7th, 2005 05:51 pmSleep pattern becoming a little more normal. Unfortunately if I'm really knackered on a work night I start to panic that I'll get insomnia again, which in turn makes it hard to sleep, so I nodded off at about 2, even though I went to bed at 10. Annoying, but meant that I managed about 6 hours, which is plenty enough for me. Will attempt another early one tonight, although I do have to stay up to watch Lost. That boring Doctor's dead dad is wandering around out of his coffin! It's nuts!
I get really irritated by the widely held belief in most press (esp in Kent) that the middle aged, middle classes are naturally very polite and lovely and that the younger, working class people in this big ol' wide world are all obnoxious and never mind their Ps & Qs. This always further aggrivates me whenever I go into M&S for a sarnie at lunchtime, since as soon as I enter said department store I am overwhelmed by a tide of the most hateful posh old bitches I can imagine. People are always complaining that shop workers (read: young, working class people) are all terribly rude 'nowadays', but M&S workers are all absolutely lovely and have to put up with some of the most godawful crap from their stuck-up customers who've probably never had to a shitty shop job in their life. Worst example - some worthless old cow publicly humiliating some poor girl because she hadn't heard her calling that her till was free and the girl had, shock horror, caught her eye and beckonned her over. Apparently the old woman had 'never been so insulted' before. I doubt that that was true, but if it was, I think it's very unfair that somebody that malicious had never been insulted any more than having a working class teenager beckon her over. Somebody that unpleasant deserves to have 'Twat' scrawled on her forehead and rotten mayonnaise rubbed into her hair at the very least.
It makes me cross. When I was a teenager, old people were bloody horrible to me. We're talking strangers on the bus loudly discussing my skirt length as they sat behind me, and one claim from an old Biddy, bizzairely enough in Miss Selfridge that 'My type were all at it.' It happens less these days now that I'm not 16, I'm not skinny enough to wear minidresses any more and no longer have black hair (A teenager who dyes her hair! It's the end of the world, I tells ya!) the only comments about my appearance I get nowadays are from a certain breed of 'gentleman' who like to inform me that I have 'a big pair'. (Cue me: 'Oh really? Gosh, I hadn't noticed those. No wonder I've been getting backache lately.) but this tirade all stems from my most recent foray into M&S, at lunchtime. Being the horrible, obnoxious young person that I am, I always hold the door open as I leave for other people to go in first. I usually have little choice, since the blue rinse brigade apparently have the right of way and push through, zimmer first, anyway. This I do not mind. However, I have probably performed this random act of courtesy about a hundred times, and I have yet to recieve even the slightest murmur of a 'thankyou.' Perhaps these people are all deaf mutes. Or perhaps the posh and the old are just as ignorant and mannerless as their twentysomething, council estate 'inferiors'.
Today's favourite word: Bespectacled.
I get really irritated by the widely held belief in most press (esp in Kent) that the middle aged, middle classes are naturally very polite and lovely and that the younger, working class people in this big ol' wide world are all obnoxious and never mind their Ps & Qs. This always further aggrivates me whenever I go into M&S for a sarnie at lunchtime, since as soon as I enter said department store I am overwhelmed by a tide of the most hateful posh old bitches I can imagine. People are always complaining that shop workers (read: young, working class people) are all terribly rude 'nowadays', but M&S workers are all absolutely lovely and have to put up with some of the most godawful crap from their stuck-up customers who've probably never had to a shitty shop job in their life. Worst example - some worthless old cow publicly humiliating some poor girl because she hadn't heard her calling that her till was free and the girl had, shock horror, caught her eye and beckonned her over. Apparently the old woman had 'never been so insulted' before. I doubt that that was true, but if it was, I think it's very unfair that somebody that malicious had never been insulted any more than having a working class teenager beckon her over. Somebody that unpleasant deserves to have 'Twat' scrawled on her forehead and rotten mayonnaise rubbed into her hair at the very least.
It makes me cross. When I was a teenager, old people were bloody horrible to me. We're talking strangers on the bus loudly discussing my skirt length as they sat behind me, and one claim from an old Biddy, bizzairely enough in Miss Selfridge that 'My type were all at it.' It happens less these days now that I'm not 16, I'm not skinny enough to wear minidresses any more and no longer have black hair (A teenager who dyes her hair! It's the end of the world, I tells ya!) the only comments about my appearance I get nowadays are from a certain breed of 'gentleman' who like to inform me that I have 'a big pair'. (Cue me: 'Oh really? Gosh, I hadn't noticed those. No wonder I've been getting backache lately.) but this tirade all stems from my most recent foray into M&S, at lunchtime. Being the horrible, obnoxious young person that I am, I always hold the door open as I leave for other people to go in first. I usually have little choice, since the blue rinse brigade apparently have the right of way and push through, zimmer first, anyway. This I do not mind. However, I have probably performed this random act of courtesy about a hundred times, and I have yet to recieve even the slightest murmur of a 'thankyou.' Perhaps these people are all deaf mutes. Or perhaps the posh and the old are just as ignorant and mannerless as their twentysomething, council estate 'inferiors'.
Today's favourite word: Bespectacled.
