I’ve been mulling this idea over for a few weeks and it’s a bastardisation of the lovely Clare Grant’s 3BT– for which I apologise but I am afraid I live in London and I’m cynical so I would like to introduce the 3 Really ANnoying Things or 3RANT. I will try my hardest to make 3BT more regular than 3RANT but there are times I just need to vent. I will attempt to stick at three but this has been brewing for a while…
1. I have revisited the joys of peak time public transport this week. Now on the whole public transport is a jolly excellent idea and I enjoy being able to go around London on my Oyster card (even though London public transport is the most expensive). But try to get anywhere in peak hours on time without leaving hours in advance…pah! Actually it’s the buses I have issue with at the moment rather than the tube.
But then you get on to the tube and you die in the heat (even in September). So hurrah they’ve announced air con. But will it be available on the tube lines that actually need it? Oh no, it’s those poxy not really underground lines which spend so much time overground you get a breeze anyway. In an age where scientific advances are so amazing you would think that keeping cool on proper underground lines was not beyond the wit of an intelligent man (an intelligent man you note not the numpties in charge of TfL).
2. Deliveries. Argh the postman! He regularly delivers stuff for other people to our house. But perhaps worse, he delivers our stuff to other people’s houses. Luckily there is a sort of neighbourhood network of sorting this out which means that (by and large) The Beloved’s DVDs do eventually arrive. The problem is you are disiinclined to complain because who knows what he’ll do to the mail if you’ve moaned.
But all of this pales into insignificance compared to my joyful DHL experience today. So I arrive home to a parcel which has been left (and I quote) “behind bin – front door”. Look behind bin (all excited) and no parcel. Now we may have a thieving element in my neighbourhood (this is London remember) or we may have an unscrupulous delivery bod but either which way the ****ing parcel is not there. So I phone DHL. The phone system is beyond the comprehension of the most telephonically savvy human being (especially when your “code” doesn’t work). By the time I got through to a human being the human beings I needed to speak to had gone home. Argh!
3. Rude questions. So there is a question which many people might (and obviously do) feel completely justified in asking me. “Do you have children?” Now there are certain people I don’t mind me asking that question: medical professionals and (surprisingly although illegal) employers. But it’s amazing how many random people feel this is an appropriate avenue of questioning. I wonder how they would react if I actually fronted up and told them why I don’t have children.
4. Which in a way brings me on to the next subject (and I know I’m over three but this is my first one and – as I mentioned – I have been brooding…). So a couple of months ago I was told (with absolutely no explanation) that I needed to change my Pill. Now at this point you need to bear in mind that I started to take the Pill way before I became sexually active because of vile hormone issues. So I started taking Micronor. Six weeks of hell ensued. No period, huge weight gain (about 8 kgs- which is over a stone – okay so I’m not a gym bunny but that was the only thing that changed in my life), breasts of extraordinary soreness and a general mood of bleurgh. Went back to my GP, eventually got an explanation that I shouldn’t really take the normal Pill because of a risk of breast cancer – fair enough – but she didn’t know what to do so off to the Family Planning Clinic. Met a lovely dr who said I probably could go back to the proper Pill if my moods were hideously murderous but first we have to go through the ‘trying other options’. So I’m now on Cerazette. So two weeks in…a permanent period, even more weight gain (about 2 kg but on top of the rest…well it’s a lot) and still the shitty mood. Fuck knows what will happen next. I am not happy.
5. Being last. Ah yes, being last. Behind the job, behind the random friend commitments. Scant interest in issue 4. Oh it’s going so well. Shouldn’t really be a RANT as far too depressing and largely my own fault (I should be braver).
6. Okay double the number probably not acceptable but can you imagine how hard it is to support Southampton at the moment?