Music to Iron To

i decided that if I was going to iron for the week ahead, that it pass quicker if I had music on while I did it. The ipod was set to random and off I went. Whilst it did make the task almost enjoyable, it did slow things down as I spent half of the time time skipping tracks as I discovered that certain songs just cannot be ironed to. No matter how much I love "Thirteen" by Big Star, it just doesn't encourge the smoothing rhythm necessary to leave a shirt crinkle-free.

Here are the songs that gave the best de-creasing results:

Dancing in the Street by Martha Reeves and the Vandellas
Vicar in a Tutu by The Smiths
Jump into the Fire by Harry Nilsson
Liar, Liar by The Castaways
Radio Free Europe by REM
Just Keep Walking by INXS
Paris is Burning by Ladyhawke

Morbid Curiosity

I shouldn't have watched it. Complaining about it now, I realise that the simple solution would have been to not watch it. I may be turning into my Auntie Dorothy who used to purposefully watch programmes she would find offensive so she could complin.

And so long as people like me are willing to watch these things, so they will continue to exist. We have stooped to a new low and I am partly responsible because I watched some of it.

I'm referring to the Michael Jackson Seance.

Why did I watch (some of) it? The OH was out for the evening, to watch boxing, which in retrospect I may have enjoyed more as unlikely as it may be. So I drifted to watching rubbish on television and after two old episodes of "What Not to Wear", I watching this rubbish.

I was not a huge Michael Jackson fan (I'm writing this extremely cautiously as the last time I wrote about him, elsewhere, I was attacked by legions of fans). He was talented. The Jackson 5 were great. I liked a lot of his early stuff, although its not really my cup of tea. Equally, I don't usually watch these television ghost hunt type programmes. I don't think I believe in ghosts, but I am not certain. What I am certain of is that if they do exist, they are not communicating with this world through Derek Acorah.

The seance was a combination of exploitation and bandwagon jumping, never a good mix. It involved a known fraud, some emotionally vulnerable people and a couple of celebrities who would do anything to appear on television more. The programme started badly with David Guest complimenting June Sarpong on her beautiful lips and white teeth, and it went downhill from there.

The seance participants were four Jackson superfans. At least two of them seemed disturbed before it started and were sobbing uncontrollably once things got going (FACT: no matter how much you like someone's music and feel it is talking to you and you feel you know him through his lyrics and think he is a good person because of the things you know about him, you did not know this person - they were not actually your friend or your family, and if their death affects you as if they were, then things have got out of control). Even Sarpong seemed troubled when one of them brokedown when in "communicating" with his idol. I turned it off before the other two received their messages. I never did find out if Jackson's hat flew around the room as a finale.

Why couldn't there have been a cynic thrown into it? Or someone who believes in the paranormal but without the attachment to Jackson? And the introduction stated that they would not be getting into the legal area of who did what on the night he died. How could they know that? Ok so Acorah might not ask those questions, but how could he control what Jackson wanted to talk about? He might have been angry and want to point the finger at the guilty parties? But happily for Sky's legal department, he was compliant and didn't stray into slanderous territory.

Overheard Conversions No. 8

Shopping in Habitat, a very very posh couple were conversing with each other across the shop, shouting "Darling" before each product analysis, which included this from the man:

"Darling. Look at this. A decanter dryer. What stage do you need to have reached in life where you need a special device to dry your decanters?"

I'm not sure myself, but clearly neither myself and the other half, nor the Darlings have reached this stage as they left empty-handed and we bought a linen bin.

If you have reached that stage in life (I suspect I never will), then Habitat in the Westfield Centre has plenty of Decanter Dryers in stock.

Fish Wife

On a temporary basis, we have a third person sharing our office. For reasons that are too complicated/sensitive/dull/ridiculous to go into here, she is not allowed to do any work at the moment, but is still expected to come into the office each day. To fill her time, she talks a lot about not much and seems to be on an endless cycle of reapplying her lipstick, handcream and perfume. The frequent sprays of the latter in a small windowless room has left me with stinging red eyes, but I haven't said anything because since she is only there short-term I didn't see the point in offending her and I reasoned that there were worse smells than an over-powering headache inducing perfume. Today I was reminded of one.

This morning I saw a pack of smoked salmon on her desk. "Shouldn't that be in the fridge" I thought to myself on my way out of the office. Minutes later on my way back in, I saw the salmon was open and she was snacking on stripes of it.

It wasn't even 11am. Surely there are better things for a mid morning snack than fish? I'm biased because I don't like any fish or seafood, but I understand that others may enjoy it for lunch or as a meal. But surely not as a snack? Its like sharing an office with a seal.

Bad Manners

Years ago I lived with a German woman who found it confusing that we British were always saying sorry. For example if someone ask us directions and we don't know, we say "I'm sorry, I don't know" and she would say "Why are you sorry? Its not your fault or your problem".

I was dashing from the train to the bus, when a boy who could have been no more than 14 asked me if I had a light. As a) I didn't have a light b) even if I did, I wouldn't have given it to someone underage, and c) I was rushing for a bus, I merely said "no". To which the lad replied "You should say 'Sorry no' not just no".

The cheek! I could begin to see that my old flatmate had a point.

Quite Evil?

I know I wasn't going to say too much about the new job (hence the prolonged silence) but this has been bugging me for a week now.



A group of us from work were having a coffee and somehow the conversation turned to friends we'd lost touch with and one woman came out with a tale that has shocked me.



She mentioned how she was back in touch with a friend she had fallen out with years ago and then went on to casually reveal the circumstances. The friend lives abroad, has never lived in the UK, but has a property here, so when she was diagnosed with cancer, a loophole allowed her to have treatment here, even though she had never lived permanently or paid taxes here. The woman from work revaled that she called the friend "an NHS tourist", and then reported her to the media, appearing herself in a television document about the loophole. She then said to us that the friend refused to appear in the documentary, which she sounded surprised at.

She finished this charming anecdote with the phrase "Oh yes, I can be quite evil".

Now I agree that is unfair and even immoral that this person came here for treatment when they could afford to pay for it elsewhere, but in reality, faced with a friend who could be dying, whose first thoughts are whether they should entitled to the live-saving treatment?

I'm keeping my distance from this woman, as if this is any sign of how she treats her friends, I hate to think what she would do to someone else.

A beginners guide to train travel

Your seat reservation is only valid on the train you are booked on.
For example, if you have booked to travel on the 7am train, you are not entitled to that same seat on the 8am train. Equally if you get on the train a day late, "your" seat is likely to be taken by someone else.

This may seem obvious, but it clearly isn't to everyone as for the second time in a row, on my journey north someone told me categorically without any trace of doubt that I was in their seat, only for it to turn out that they should have travelled on a train on a different day or time.