Tuesday, December 21, 2004
The World Moves Too Slow
Ever have the feeling the world is moving at a different pace to yourself?
This morning, I could have sworn I was moving slower than the Earth’s rotation when, as I made my merry way towards the bus stop, I saw the bus pull away having collected it’s quota of passengers. The lucky ones peered out the windows at me, smirking at the poor sod left to decide whether to wait for the next bus or walk it. I plumped on the walk.
About half way through my walk into Leith I realised perhaps I am moving at a faster pace than the people of Earth and not slower as first thought.
As I walked, I looked back to see another bus coming but was unable to cross the road to get to it, being stuck half way between bus stops and with a sudden build up of traffic from absolutely nowhere. Thus, I missed the second bus of the morning.
I decided to get a bag of Jammy donuts for my team at work, partially as a gesture of goodwill but mostly because I wanted one to cheer me up over a coffee when I got to the office. I popped into the local supermarket and grabbed a fresh bag of strawberry-filled sugary donuts and went to the checkout but was dismayed to see only two checkouts open complete with very long queues. I went to the Service Desk, which often doubles as an express till, and asked if they could put my one, single purchase through, to a maximum cost of 89 pence.
The woman turned and in a posture that can only be related to a bossy school teacher with her hand raised out, pointed towards the tills and in a shrill voice said, “Sorry, but you’ll have to use the check outs like everyone else.”
“Don’t you have an express lane I can use?” I asked (a reasonable question I assumed).
“Sorry,” she said smiling and turned away.
Cue rush of blood to my head.
I adopted her pose to mimick her arrogant actions. “Sorry," I said in a loudish, deep voice, "But just forget it,” I said, with the intention of making it clear I would not be buying the bag of donuts any more due to my dissatisfaction with her attitude.
What I hadn’t counted on was the bag of baked delicacies flying out my right hand as I raised it and landing in a heap on the floor.
We stared at the bag, and I straightened up first and left the supermarket satisfied with my refusal to cave both to her commands and my temper.
During the cafuffle, I hadn't notice time had wore on and I was now at risk of being late for work, but with no donuts to soften the blow, I thought I should get a taxi instead of a bus.
I gave the driver my destination and off we went. Everything seemed to be going fine until we reached the first set of traffic lights when I detected more friction between the speed of my life and the rest of the world.
A bus was having problems rounding the corner. Eventually, when it squeezed through the gap in the t-junction left from the traffic in the other direction and the roadworks on the near side, I had to endure a snail’s pace as we crawled behind the bus all the way into town.
I paid the driver and went into the snack shop for some breakfast. Something healthy I thought to myself, that would feel good to eat and help boost my immune system against this stubborn chesty cough.
I bought a tuna and sweetcorn sandwich and a carton of Tropicana real fruit orange. When I got to work, I noticed the juice was two days out of date.
I rest my case.
Today is the 12 year anniversary of my first ever Madness concert.
I remember it as though it was yesterday. Snow had fallen the night before as myself and three friends made our way to Edinburgh in a tiny white Ford Fiesta, clad in our Doc Martens, Fred Perry Tops, red braces and pork-pie hats and with a bag overflowing with cans of Miller. I was 19 years old, skinny and had a head thick with hair.
I’m not going to go into it, needless to say the day ended in a riot – literally and nonliterally as it turned out when two groups of casuals kicked off in the middle of the arena. Riot Police were called and the gig was cut short and the band to this day still talk about how horrified they were. No wonder they never returned to Scotland for 10 years.
The other talking point was the car breaking down at the most remote section of motorway between Edinburgh and Glasgow during a blizzard as we returned home. Sitting on the hard shoulder, unable to see five feet in front of us made for a scary moment in time so we sent out two hardy souls to search for a house. An hour later they returned after finding nothing. We sat in despair and tried the car one last time – it started! We drove the rest of the way back west at 20 mph along Scotland’s busiest motorway late at night.
I remember it as being a special day though. It was a one off for me, and a dream come true. Who would have thought back then, the things I would go on to do with the band; correspond with them, meet them, get drunk with them, follow them all over the country and run the biggest Madness website going, The decade after the Edinburgh gig was unsurpassable and the least predictable.
My first gig review accompanied this event, though it’s more of a diary entry. Some crappy pics and words are at my Madness site over at my Madness in Edinburgh, Xmas 92 Page
This morning, I could have sworn I was moving slower than the Earth’s rotation when, as I made my merry way towards the bus stop, I saw the bus pull away having collected it’s quota of passengers. The lucky ones peered out the windows at me, smirking at the poor sod left to decide whether to wait for the next bus or walk it. I plumped on the walk.
About half way through my walk into Leith I realised perhaps I am moving at a faster pace than the people of Earth and not slower as first thought.
As I walked, I looked back to see another bus coming but was unable to cross the road to get to it, being stuck half way between bus stops and with a sudden build up of traffic from absolutely nowhere. Thus, I missed the second bus of the morning.
I decided to get a bag of Jammy donuts for my team at work, partially as a gesture of goodwill but mostly because I wanted one to cheer me up over a coffee when I got to the office. I popped into the local supermarket and grabbed a fresh bag of strawberry-filled sugary donuts and went to the checkout but was dismayed to see only two checkouts open complete with very long queues. I went to the Service Desk, which often doubles as an express till, and asked if they could put my one, single purchase through, to a maximum cost of 89 pence.
The woman turned and in a posture that can only be related to a bossy school teacher with her hand raised out, pointed towards the tills and in a shrill voice said, “Sorry, but you’ll have to use the check outs like everyone else.”
“Don’t you have an express lane I can use?” I asked (a reasonable question I assumed).
“Sorry,” she said smiling and turned away.
Cue rush of blood to my head.
I adopted her pose to mimick her arrogant actions. “Sorry," I said in a loudish, deep voice, "But just forget it,” I said, with the intention of making it clear I would not be buying the bag of donuts any more due to my dissatisfaction with her attitude.
What I hadn’t counted on was the bag of baked delicacies flying out my right hand as I raised it and landing in a heap on the floor.
We stared at the bag, and I straightened up first and left the supermarket satisfied with my refusal to cave both to her commands and my temper.
During the cafuffle, I hadn't notice time had wore on and I was now at risk of being late for work, but with no donuts to soften the blow, I thought I should get a taxi instead of a bus.
I gave the driver my destination and off we went. Everything seemed to be going fine until we reached the first set of traffic lights when I detected more friction between the speed of my life and the rest of the world.
A bus was having problems rounding the corner. Eventually, when it squeezed through the gap in the t-junction left from the traffic in the other direction and the roadworks on the near side, I had to endure a snail’s pace as we crawled behind the bus all the way into town.
I paid the driver and went into the snack shop for some breakfast. Something healthy I thought to myself, that would feel good to eat and help boost my immune system against this stubborn chesty cough.
I bought a tuna and sweetcorn sandwich and a carton of Tropicana real fruit orange. When I got to work, I noticed the juice was two days out of date.
I rest my case.
Today is the 12 year anniversary of my first ever Madness concert.
I remember it as though it was yesterday. Snow had fallen the night before as myself and three friends made our way to Edinburgh in a tiny white Ford Fiesta, clad in our Doc Martens, Fred Perry Tops, red braces and pork-pie hats and with a bag overflowing with cans of Miller. I was 19 years old, skinny and had a head thick with hair.
I’m not going to go into it, needless to say the day ended in a riot – literally and nonliterally as it turned out when two groups of casuals kicked off in the middle of the arena. Riot Police were called and the gig was cut short and the band to this day still talk about how horrified they were. No wonder they never returned to Scotland for 10 years.
The other talking point was the car breaking down at the most remote section of motorway between Edinburgh and Glasgow during a blizzard as we returned home. Sitting on the hard shoulder, unable to see five feet in front of us made for a scary moment in time so we sent out two hardy souls to search for a house. An hour later they returned after finding nothing. We sat in despair and tried the car one last time – it started! We drove the rest of the way back west at 20 mph along Scotland’s busiest motorway late at night.
I remember it as being a special day though. It was a one off for me, and a dream come true. Who would have thought back then, the things I would go on to do with the band; correspond with them, meet them, get drunk with them, follow them all over the country and run the biggest Madness website going, The decade after the Edinburgh gig was unsurpassable and the least predictable.
My first gig review accompanied this event, though it’s more of a diary entry. Some crappy pics and words are at my Madness site over at my Madness in Edinburgh, Xmas 92 Page
Colin 11:47 am