I think I just rambled, Life

THINGS. ALL THE THINGS.

I haven’t posted for a while. BUT I HAVE MY REASONS. In the last few weeks of non-posting, I’ve:

  1. worked
  2. gone to London
  3. seen Wonder Woman

DISCHUFFED WITH WORK

I’m using the word ‘dischuffed’ from now on. Recently at work, a darling Joanna Lumley lookalike used it, and I’m in love. That is all. (And I’m not dischuffed with work; I just wanted to fit the word in somewhere.)

As September looms and an uncertain certain future shines, not on the horizon, but straight into my eyes. (IT BURNS!) I’ve been taking as many shifts as work can throw at me. Consequently, it’s hard to find time to do things. When you get home from a long shift, you don’t think:

MY GOSH LET ME HAVE MOOOOORE THINGS TO DO RIGHT THIS MOMENT!

You want to wind down. You want to relax. You don’t want to plunge into other things. AND THAT’S MY EXCUSE. And I’m sticking to it.

onthetrain

I GO TO LONDON. BECOME METROPOLITAN. TRY TO BREAK INTO M&S.

I travelled down to London via train. I’ve learned a lot about trains since my first solo trip on one – apparently, it’s not enough to get the right platform, you also have to wait for the right train. All trains arriving at platform 6A, for example will not go to the same place. This was quite the surprise.

In London, I …

  • worked out how to navigate the Underground (occasionally by accident)
  • found┬áGrosvenor Square (definitely by accident)
  • did not locate any Heyer heroes (a grave disappointment)
  • was mistaken as a businesswoman by a banker #dubiouslyproud

Also in London, I strode jauntily down Oxford St, a spring to my step. I was a queen in a beautiful flowy dress. I was in London. Red buses were going past. Life was good. I strode up to the steps to M&S (opposite Selfridges? Or was it …?!). I reached the doors. I attempted to open the doors. The doors did not open.

I forgot that there are such things as opening times and slunk off like a shamed hedgehog to the side doors which were suddenly open because I … had arrived at 8:59 and … and then it was 9:00am and … *heavy sigh*

But as a side note, the M&S staff are lovely and I wanted to hug them and squeeze their London out of their cheeks.

atthestation

THE WONDER OF THE WOMAN

One day, I was fed up with scrimping and saving. So, in rebellion against saving sprees, work, and denying myself books (FOUR WEEKS WITHOUT BUYING A BOOK. THIS CANNOT KEEP UP MUCH LONGER!!), I went to watch Wonder Woman. It’s got some epic moments. Some hilarious moments. Some touching moments. I enjoyed it.

BUT I HAVE AN OBJECTION.

The mustache.

It was terrible.

Honestly, I like facial hair. If I was a man, I’d have a glorious, glorious beard. However … the mustache? No. No. A thousand times, no.

Kill it with fire.

TO END

Today is my day off. This is a good thing, for sometimes a bone deep tiredness takes hold; the sort that almost makes you finish a tannoy at work with:

Goooood evening, ladies and gentlemen,

blah blah blah. blah blah blah, blah blah blah.

Thank you for shopping at such and such.

Amen.

 

Books, I think I just rambled, Life

death of a bookworm

paintroom.JPGIt’s late and I’m tired. I’ve spent most of the day painting. It’s going … all right. I can’t say I’m wonderful at it, but I manage. My jeans are covered in white finger prints. My bedroom is jammed like a bad game of Tetris.

Two bookshelves have been emptied, their contents piled in corners and stacked along the radiator. Apparently, I own quite a few books. A third of which I haven’t read. (I’m pulling that figure out of thin air. It could be half. I’m not sayin’.)

What on earth is she rambling on about? you wonder. (Yes. I can hear you.) Get to the point already.

I have a book buying habit. It doesn’t matter if it’s an ebook, a second-hand book or a brand new book … all come into my possession with a quiet frequency. And so my shelves grow more packed and my to-read pile grows up and up until they’ll be using it in basic astronomy:

Question: How far is to the moon? Answer: Ness’s to-read pile.

But … that isn’t the reason of this post. (Ha. I haz mizlead you. Maniacal Laugh.) I don’t feel guilty about my to-read pile. In fact, I’m comforted by it – the books are there for me when I need them. I can pick them up right now, next week or next year. They aren’t – to my knowledge – going anywhere.

I love owning books. Love having a personal library that I can gloat over occasionally. I love being rich in words and stories.

And yet, I’ve come to a decision. It doesn’t really have much of a reason behind it. (Other than self-induced torture. Obviously.) As with most of my decisions, it is impulsive and will not be immediately regretted.

*cough*

I feel as if I need a drumroll.

I – Ness Kingsley – have decided …

Image result for drum roll gif

… that I am not going to buy a single book in the month of September.

Image result for jaw drop gif

Wish me well, my friends – already do I hear the siren’s call of kindle offers, charity shops and the marvel of Amazon’s one penny books.