Urban Heroine

I hate busybodies. Don't you? Mind your own fricking business!!! Twats!

So, I'm on the Piccadilly line tonight. Coming home from Silver Hammer, run by the lovely Daphna Baram. I don't mind saying - I'd had 2.5 pints of Murphy's booze, but I was ok, I can handle my stout! It was about half past eleven or something...

and there is this man and this woman on the train together. Sat directly opposite me.

I had a Tesco cheese and tomato pasta salad, so by all accounts, I shouldn't have even noticed them. Notice them I did though... what I noticed most was the body language between them. He was very much in her space and throwing her compliments and she was very much ... well embarrassed, yet  cornered. They were both drunk and the conversation led me to believe they worked at the same company, but tonight was the first time they had met... Yes, I feel I really got to know them... Anyway ... yum, yum, can I make these last few tomatoey pasta twists last to Earls Court? Will it be bad manners to lick the pot? Oooh, a few more bits of grated cheese.... mmmmmm.

I can't exactly remember when I ran out of pasta distraction, but the situation opposite me only went from bad to worse. I think the point at which she told him, she was only 24 and he said - "Oh, Fuck, Fuck, No, Fuck, I didn't realise you were that young", kind of piqued my interest. Who, was I to judge, I love a silver fox... And yeah, he was if I'm being generous (very generous) early forties, if I'm being unkind... He was wondering how 50 had crept up on him so fast and how it had become such a distant memory. I wonder if he had kids of his own that are her age, or nieces or nephews... Probably! He wrestled with his conscience for literally seconds, before continuing to tell her, 'it was because she was sensible and mature (or some other shit) that he'd thought she was older than 24' and so continued his charm offensive. Yeah, that kind of got my goat...

The journey and their story bimbled on - He was making sure she got home ok, but didn't expect anything from her. She was telling him, if he wanted to get off at Holborn, She was fine she could find Holloway Road and her home, safely by herself. He didn't take the hint... So, what -  Oh the times I've enjoyed the delights of being coerced into intimate situations because I'm too drunk and lack the self esteem to say... "Yeah, probably not gonna happen mate...Jog on!" Many a happy relationship, has started under those circumstances exactly. Oh no, sorry ... my relationships (few and far between as they have been) usually end up in me realising 3 months down the line, that the flattery and the booze, don't make up for the lack of genuine connection.

So it carried on...She appreciated him seeing her home, but may be too tired to invite him in. He really needed just one more beer if she had one for him... (things they were actually saying to each other) If ever a situation needed screaming at from a stranger, this was it.

Now I'm peeling off the wrapper of the pasta salad pot and looking the other way to try and disguise my genuine disgust at this guy's tactics, he is holding her hand and in her space, intermittently telling her she is lovely and you know... there was nothing you could pin him down for being exactly out of line, except a sense of her discomfort at it all. She really looked like she wanted him to back off a bit.

Then this happens, I try and get his attention. I think I've got a fairly expressive face and while partially hiding my face behind my pasta salad pot... because watching them had become too much, I do my best peak around, I make eye contact and I give him my best. 'Don't do this, you're being a real shit' kind of look... at which point he stage whispers to her ... "She is on drugs. She just looked at me with one eye"

I was fucking gobsmacked.

He what?

I what? I'm sat right here you pathetic shit. Even if I am on drugs (I'm not). I'm not fucking deaf.

Fuck you buster. The gloves are off now!

Except they weren't. Not to begin with. I was totally disarmed.

I think. Does he think I'm on drugs because of my wonky eye? Or because I'm mad enough to try and tell him with my bestest bitchiest glare to reign it in. I didn't know.... But I did still have until Holloway Road to sort this out!

Now, not only have I got to let it be known what a slimey overbearing shit he has been... I've got to do it while making sure it doesn't sound as if I'm on drugs!

Then they had the same 'walking her home safely / he didn't expect anything / could he come in for a beer? / wasn't she lovely' on a loop conversation another few times and then they get to Caledonian Road (the one before Holloway - her stop). This is it. I'm doing this. I'm speaking!

*gulps*

Shall I?

Yes, I will.

"Excuse me, I wouldn't usually speak to strangers, but I just wanted to say that I'm not on drugs and I don't like that you spoke about me, when I'm right here." He interjects - "We weren't talking about you, we were talking about us" - Me carrying on "Well, I'm sorry, that is what I heard, I'm sorry if I misunderstood and I'm sorry for eavesdropping, I was only looking at you like that, because I didn't like  the way you were completely in her space and making her feel uncomfortable. I'm sorry for staring."

There it was ... and what did she do?

She mouthed 'Thank you' at me and looked very very relieved. I looked back at her to make sure that is what I'd seen and it still looked like a grateful face... He was pissed off.

As they got up to leave the carriage, I said "Have a nice evening." She said with a smile "Yes, and you" It was the most assertive thing, she had said in about fifteen tube stops... He said. "Yes, thank you for your comments." I don't think he meant it.

I hope she got home ok.

I hope he has a bit of a think about his seduction techniques.

Chemical Imbalance Days

This afternoon (just an ordinary day in March 2012), I sat and wept ... alone at the bar of my local pub. I didn't want to come home and weep in front my lodger and his seven year old daughter (who stays a lot more often than he said she would). So, I just sat there and cried. Nothing bad had happened. I was just having a shitty low day. I mean yes I'm still jobless, childless and single, but I take all that in my stride.

No I'd generally agree with the view that you can choose happiness. I do my best to, with a healthy dose of cynicism, but every now and again, my brain chemicals (you'll never get me to admit - my hormones...) choose for me: Today, they chose uncontrollable public sobbing. The bar staff were as understanding as can be expected and one in particular was very sweet actually. She even stroked my arm and gave me till roll and a pen to write swear words on. Sometimes shit just gets real hey?

PS. I included some of this on my OKCupid profile... Good advertisement??

I felt I'd exhausted the bar staff's good will and patience, so came home eventually - got in at about 9 pm and thankfully, both lodger and lodger's daughter had gone to bed. Small mercies...

Do you like my sad dogs on till roll?

Somewhere to plop out ideas...

Yes, I've been gone for ages without any explanation, but I'm back now. For a bit at least. What did you do since last April? I did my first Edinburgh run last August (mostly a nightmare), then I got back and hit more brick walls than I care to mention. Emotional brick walls, Creative brick walls, Career brick walls... as I say, all kinds of walls. Well they say you build your own walls, but I'm slowly trying to knock through a few of mine. 

So, In December, I finally quit my job, after years of complaining about life at the council... in the end things got really horrible, so I chose my happiness and sanity over financial security and I have to say it felt great to leave all that horror behind me.

I'm off work for the moment, so I have some time on my hands and looking for somewhere to dump ideas and try and do a bit more writing. I'm guessing this is as publicly private as anything else - no one I know that was blogging when I began really still bothers and I doubt anyone will read this unless I choose to draw attention to it.

I still do stand up comedy. I'm still only gigging once or twice per week, but still going says something doesn't it? Dumb persistence... Still on the open mic circuit. Still doing mostly five minute spots, but most of all, still enjoying myself. (Most of the time.) It does form 90% of my social life and takes care of a similarly large chunk of my self esteem, so I've no choice but to continue for the time being

I was bold enough to complain this week about my lack of success in relationships and was told - "You have two cats and a nice checked shirt. What more do you want?" In fairness, I was probably talking to the wrong person, but if that isn't an incentive to turn things around, I don't know what is! 

Anyway, imagine this is me dipping my toe back into the world of blogging. Imagine there are people reading... Imagine you need something to know it is worth visiting here again... Well

• Imagine I'll write more in the future about what is fun and what is not about being at home all day and explain my views and experience of job hunting. 
• Imagine I'll wow you with intimate gossip from the world of open mic comedy and insightful gig reports.
• Imagine I've invited you in ... as I rebuild my life ... from single jobless aimless sofa dweller into successful creative type with a fulfilling day job and happy relationships, 
• or just watch as the shit really hits the fan and my life falls to pieces... or maybe a bit of both. 

For now, here are a few pictures from the last ten months of Og-land. 

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1) Attempting to write an Edinburgh set - Spring 11. 

2) Post 'Race for Life' with Mummy Ogs - July 11. 

3 and 4) Cakes I made - Summer 11. 

5) Drunk in a borrowed hat in Edinburgh - August 11. 

6) An aptly named street in Islington, where I used to hide in breaks from hateful work - September - November 11. 

7 and 8) The cats - All the time.

9) The only Veg harvested from the garden - September 11.

10) Another cake - December 11