Extraordinary events
Thanks to reading the sports section of the Sunday Times, I have been introduced to volzy.com, the website of a German footballer with a great sense of humour. Really, try it. And speaking of footballers, again with thanks to the Sunday Times, my favourite Spaniard Xavi Alonso was appaently the only Liverpool player not to attend the club's Christmas party in fancy dress. Hmm, maybe he is gay (counter-intuitive but it makes sense when you think about it).
The more extraordinary event was after the Headmaster's Dinner, when I was quite ruthlessly vamped by a prep-school teacher and single mother (that's the same person, by the way). Although on one level it's immensely flattering, I really do not want to enter into a relationship with a single mother, or any mother, or anybody with children to be perfectly honest. Two of my godmother's small grandchildren came round this morning and, while the objective part of me fully appreciates that they are well-behaved and adorable, I can't help regarding them with the same combination of curiosity and disgust triggered by lifting a piece of rotting wood to see what's underneath.
And when I say vamped, vamped is altogether too subtle. It would sound monstrously egomaniacal to repeat what she told me, suffice to say that it concluded 'and I really just want to snog you,' at which point my sister happily if belatedly intervened by inventing a phone call from our mother. But among the litany of drunken compliments was the one word all academics with a vestige of self-respect never want to hear.
Geeky.
I never thought I looked good with glasses, and trying contact lenses might now be added to my Resolutions for 2007.
Is there a socially acceptable of method of rebuffing unwanted females? Other than co-opting one's colleagues into forming a sort of Praetorian Guard to usher you out of the room? I mean, I'm happy that I'm straight-acting, but this is the sort of price I'm not so keen to pay.
Saturday I saw an excellent RSC production of Winter's Tale, a day marred chiefly by the bastards at Stratford-upon-Avon District Council issuing me with a Penalty Notice for overstaying in one of their car parks. This was true, but only because their stupid ticket machine rejected my coins. There is no reason, apart from unabashed sloth and rapacity on the part of Stratford District Council, why machines can't be installed that (a) take cards and/or notes and (b) give change. I know this because car parks in Worcester have such devices. They may overcharge, but at least you can put it on the card.
Some years ago I used a multi-storey in Lincoln, and was checking my change when a lady motorist wandered up to the ticket machine. In an attempt to apologise for my havering, I said brightly 'I don't know why these machines don't give change!'
'Because they're stupid stupid stupid and we live in a bloody fascist police state,' she replied. Multi-storeys can do that to you.
And now I'm home for Christmas, the Bailey's has been opened and the several dozen mince pies have been exhumed from the garage. Deck the halls, hurrah hurrah.
The more extraordinary event was after the Headmaster's Dinner, when I was quite ruthlessly vamped by a prep-school teacher and single mother (that's the same person, by the way). Although on one level it's immensely flattering, I really do not want to enter into a relationship with a single mother, or any mother, or anybody with children to be perfectly honest. Two of my godmother's small grandchildren came round this morning and, while the objective part of me fully appreciates that they are well-behaved and adorable, I can't help regarding them with the same combination of curiosity and disgust triggered by lifting a piece of rotting wood to see what's underneath.
And when I say vamped, vamped is altogether too subtle. It would sound monstrously egomaniacal to repeat what she told me, suffice to say that it concluded 'and I really just want to snog you,' at which point my sister happily if belatedly intervened by inventing a phone call from our mother. But among the litany of drunken compliments was the one word all academics with a vestige of self-respect never want to hear.
Geeky.
I never thought I looked good with glasses, and trying contact lenses might now be added to my Resolutions for 2007.
Is there a socially acceptable of method of rebuffing unwanted females? Other than co-opting one's colleagues into forming a sort of Praetorian Guard to usher you out of the room? I mean, I'm happy that I'm straight-acting, but this is the sort of price I'm not so keen to pay.
Saturday I saw an excellent RSC production of Winter's Tale, a day marred chiefly by the bastards at Stratford-upon-Avon District Council issuing me with a Penalty Notice for overstaying in one of their car parks. This was true, but only because their stupid ticket machine rejected my coins. There is no reason, apart from unabashed sloth and rapacity on the part of Stratford District Council, why machines can't be installed that (a) take cards and/or notes and (b) give change. I know this because car parks in Worcester have such devices. They may overcharge, but at least you can put it on the card.
Some years ago I used a multi-storey in Lincoln, and was checking my change when a lady motorist wandered up to the ticket machine. In an attempt to apologise for my havering, I said brightly 'I don't know why these machines don't give change!'
'Because they're stupid stupid stupid and we live in a bloody fascist police state,' she replied. Multi-storeys can do that to you.
And now I'm home for Christmas, the Bailey's has been opened and the several dozen mince pies have been exhumed from the garage. Deck the halls, hurrah hurrah.
posted by BoB at 2:28 PM
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