I was wondering round the shops yesterday...actually that's not true. I went to two shops and had an argument in one, embarrassing my teenage son no end. The rest of the time we argued about my argument and somewhere in the middle of this I'm sure there was a great idea for a post here. Can I remember it? Can I buffalo?
I carry a Moleskin notebook. Unlike most other writers I even carry a pen or two. That'll teach me not to write things down. In my head it was a great idea. Really funny. Really entertaining. Are you feeling deprived? Don't be. A friend of mine once woke up in the middle of the night, scribbled down his brilliant plot for a film and awoke the next morning to find he'd written something about a banana. Like anyone who has ever lost any work...it's never as good as you think it is.
The argument if anyone is interested was fuelled by my frustration at the appalling service in this city. Yes, it's the same all over but I mostly eat and shop in Liverpool. And having just returned from America, and while I wouldn't want to be told to have a nice day every five minutes, the difference is highlighted dramatically. I went home and made a complaint to Head Office and, it gets worse...then wrote a letter to a well known celebrity hairdresser (or at least his PO Box) about dodgy shampoo bottles.
I am officially a twat. I don't deserve to have my mental notes back. Please do not return to sender if you find them
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1 comment:
And so it came to pass that a novel was written (or at least a long-term series of columns in the Guardian).
Hoorah for Kirkbygirl!
(PS. I can buffalo. Would you like lessons?).
(PPS. Did you kill the actual mole yourself, or did you borrow the skin from a friend of ours who has several living around his neck?)
(PPPS. Was the hairdresser Nicky Clarke? If so, he never responds to complaints. Or love letters).
(PPPPS. Did you get a certificate for your new qualification? If so, I'd double-check it if I were you - think it might be a forgery).
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