So Monday see me off to the British Museum, a stop over at Pret on the corner of George St for breakfast then into Selfridges. I've got madames camera today to see how it goes. I really cannot be bothered with my big camera, too much of an incumberance. Aaaanyway I get a few selfies in Selfridges, ooo poet and dont know it. The upshot is that it is difficult to keep the camera straight using it one handed but I'll just convince myself they are a bit arty-farty. It is one of things if they are slightly off it looks odd and you don't know what you are doing but if you make it a long way off it looks intentional.
So there I am on the bus trundling along Oxford St and we get to Oxford Circus, masses of people innit. It is not until much later I find it was all for the Balmain clothes at H&M, ah well. We get almost to Tottenham Court Road and the inevitable traffic comes to a standstill and some moaning Minnie who wants to get off starts having a go at the bus driver to let her off. I'm late she says. Well dear you should have left earlier then you wouldn't be would you. After a fair bit of arguing he lets her off so we can all have a bit of peace and quiet. Goodness that Tottenham Court Road is drafty so its down the side streets and into The British Museum via the rear entrance, just where I want to be.
Soon its time to go home so I wend my merry way back to Portman Street and the bus home. There I am stood standing there, as you do, waiting. My bus doesn't figure in the first 10 but not to be dishearted I've learnt that as this is the first stop on the route it could turn up any time. So there I am and I can 'feel' someone looking at me. I half turn and sure enough there is. Some bloke, eyeing me up. So as his attention is focussed on my legs I can see who can't I. Oh my! Is he a looker? Hardly. But much to my amusement I know him, well used to, a long, long time ago. We were childhood friends, he lived on the corner of my road, we went to junior school together, played football together. Yes I know but at that age I didn't know any better. Then he went off to grammar school and... I didn't.
Been having a clear out this week. The dump that was our son's room needs to be cleared as madame wants it to be a sewing room and all his stuff has been making the room damp. So skip hired we start. We are taking a breather and next thing we know a van pulls up and some guy starts nicking stuff out of the skip. Well he gets told to go forth and multiply for not asking first. It is on my property therefore it is still mine, if the skip was in the road I could understand but it isn't. He feigns no-speak-English, yes right but I bet you can speak it when you come to argue a price when you sell it. A few days later while I am out another van arrives. According to madame a nice, polite Irish guy comes to the door and asks if he can go through the skip and take stuff. Madame says of course, help yourself and he does. See that is how you should do it.
