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17 September 2010 @ 06:25 am
Teeniest of cuts.
12 September 2010 @ 08:02 am
Any doubt that I am incredibly stupid is now dispelled for good.

Last night, Heather bumbles in the door and shouts 'Chinese!' quite, loudly, randomly, and presumably to no one. She often does this.







We managed to pool together 27 pounds which bought the three of us quite a feast. Thing is, our local takeaway doesn't deliver, so I offered to pick it up. Heather was conviced I'd get raped, but I reassured her that anyone desperate enough to even attempt it would probably lose heart halfway through and go off and weep somewhere. I toddled off round the corner, Dizzee Rascal blasting in my ears, and went in to collect my food.

'Twenty-seven twenty, please.'

 I pushed some notes and coins over the counter.

'I'll get your change.'

'No love, you keep it.'

She gave me a smile of unimaginable warmth and put a free bag of fortune cookies in with our takeaway.*

I get back to the house and there's the local black female cat that our Pablo seems to have a crush on, waiting on the doorstep.

'You're wasting your time there love, he's never coming out', I murmur, holding out my hand. Cat runs off.  I look to my left, and see a mass of prickles rooting through our refuse bag. I scream, drop the bags, and bang on the door frantically. Rob opens it.

'What's that. What's that? WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT.'

'It's a bloody hedgehog, what's your problem?'

'Oh, is that all it is?! Shit me right up.'

 He sighs. 'You twat.'

'Shouldn't it be asleep?'

'They're nocturnal, moron.'

'I mean for the winter.'

'Well I don't know! Come inside before Pablo gets out.'

I call up the stairs: 'Heather, come and see this hedgehog!'

She comes down, pronounces it cute, and starts rooting through the food bags. I take one last look over my shoulder and go inside.

Scared by a hedgehog. What an idiot.

*I've noticed this. You tip anyone in England, you've made a friend for life because they don't expect it. dreaded_walrus  will back me up.
01 August 2010 @ 08:16 pm

"There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense."

"You can hardly imagine that I would dream of allowing our only daughter—a girl brought up with the utmost care—to marry into a cloak-room, and form an alliance with a parcel?"