Wednesday, 26 August 2015

Ranty Rant Rant

It's been a while hasn't it?

You join me on my way home and there's only so much moaning I can do in a Facebook status so here I am again.

My day didn't start well when I realised I would need to wear boots today. I can't tell you how much I object to wearing boots in August, I'd quite happily wear flip flops all year round so boots in August is not the one.

Fast forward to home time the fricking joys of commuting.

Hey fellow commuters, why not wait for everyone who wants too to get off the train so the rest of us stuck on the platform are getting on and then try and alight the train! Cos we love that shit. Especially when the train is packed already and the doorway is half blocked by someone with two massive suitcases.

That brings me nicely too...
I get that today you have to bring your huge suitcases on the train but do you need block half the doorway? Did you never play Tetris? I can't begin to imagine how popular you were on the tube.

Oh and Thameslink, I know it was raining 3 hours ago (did I mention the boots?) so no need to put the air con on now the train is packed, the sun is out and we're all melting. Nope, no need at all.

Although now I look out the windows it looks suspiciously like it's going to piss it out down just in time for the walk home. 


Lard x

Monday, 16 February 2015


From Wikipedia:

"An earworm, sometimes known as a brainworm, is a catchy piece of music that continually repeats through a person's mind after it is no longer playing."

I get earworms a lot. I think part of the reason is because certain parts of my job can be a bit repetitive so my mind goes for a wander.

The songs the stick in my head are:

Yes that is Paul McCartney and the Frog Chorus. 

Another repeat offender is this:

I was never a massive fan when I was a kid so I've no idea why this keeps coming back to haunt me. My earworms take many forms but these two are the ones that come back time after time.

Until a couple of weeks ago when my lovely work colleague reminded me of this:

Tots fricking TV. 

Periodically for the last two weeks as soon as my mind wanders the music starts and before I know it...."I'm a tot, Je suis une tot, Tilly, Tom and Tiny..."


And now it'll be in your head too, sorry about that.

Do you have any earworms you'd like to share? Comment below or find me on the twitters @rantingsoflard

Thanks for reading

Friday, 6 February 2015

The Delivery Man Cometh


Still waiting.....

Waiting for the delivery man.

He's not delivering anything particularly exciting but I've missed him three times already this week. Today I've got a day off so I specifically asked for delivery today.

"Yes that's fine, delivery will be anytime up to 9 pm"


It's like being held hostage in your own house. So I've tried to be productive. So far, not massively productive.

I've had breakfast. I've made some brownies (How's the diet going? Yeah really well thanks). I've made a mad dash to the shop to get some cigarettes (How's the non-smoking going? Yeah about as well as the diet thanks). I've had lunch. I've been on the Wii Fit for half an hour (trying to counteract the brownies). I've also watched an unhealthy amount of TV.

I'm still waiting.

I don't have the patience for this.

I'd quite like to have a nice long bath but you know full well that the doorbell will go the minute in submerged.

Fricking deliveries, tell me I'm not the only one who has this little patience!

Thanks for reading

Monday, 2 February 2015

Parking Wars

Surprisingly enough I'm not a massive fan of confrontation. I love a good rant (obviously) and my job involves an element of confrontation but it's not something I enjoy, however, sometimes a prefect match of circumstances make it inevitable.

Picture the scene:
It's 8 pm on a Monday night, I've just driven home after a long day at the office and I've popped into the local supermarket to get some dinner. I'm tired, it's pissing it down with rain and I've got killer PMT.
As a side note, I'm often annoyed by inconsiderate drivers and shite parking at the local supermarket.
So I'm in and out in less than 10 minutes, I've got my dinner and I'm going home a good 12 hours after I left that morning.

I see her straight away.

I see the look on her face and sense the laziness in her soul.

When I first arrived, I got a parking space close to the door and I knew that she wanted it.
I wasn't wrong.

She watched me go to my car and sat and waited. By doing this she's blocking the way completely, she's blocking people in their spaces and stopping anyone behind her getting through.

As well as being a bit ranty, ladies and gents, I'm stubborn too.

I get in my car, get my phone out, check my messages, have quick look on the book of faces and the twitters. I'm going nowhere until she gives in first. At this point I notice the bloke beside me. He's playing the same game but he's got his engine on.

He's hardcore.

So we sit and we wait.

5 minutes pass.

Dear readers, you may think at this point that we're just being childish (we were) and one of us should have just moved. That's because I've neglected to tell you an important point.

Opposite me, a mere 30 second drive away is a big fat empty parking space. In terms of walking to the supermarket door it would add less than 5 seconds to her walk.

So we wait.

Another 3 or 4 minutes pass.

One of the people she's blocking in wants to get out. So she moves over behind me to let them out along with the two cars that were waiting behing her and then in her haste to get into the newly vacated space nearly hits my car.

I love my car and this does not please me.

And then she parks, gets out of her car looks back in my direction and sticks her fingers up.

The perfect storm: I'm tired, it's been a long day, I've got PMT and she's inconsiderate, rude and nearly hit my car.

Before I know it, I get out of the car. I stand up and glare at her. She looks back and says:

"That wasn't meant for you"

My mouth engages before my brain and I shout back at her:

"Well alternatively instead of holding everyone up, what you could have done was park in that space there"

"What the fuck has it got to do with you? I'll park where I fucking well like"

Brain engages and my immediate thought was: woah!  I want expecting quite that level of aggression! My next thought was: rule number one of confrontation: Don't argue with idiots.

And she was definitely an idiot. So I bid her fairwell (I may have done this with the words "Oh fuck off") got back in the car and left the car park.

Then man in the car next me? He smiled at me and gave me the thumbs up.

Thanks for reading

Thursday, 8 January 2015

Just Press Delete

I started writing this yesterday morning before the events in Paris. I did think twice about posting it today but in a small way I think the sentiment remains. Read something you don't like? Has it pissed you off because you don't agree? This is my solution. Just press delete.

It's a given that some people just piss me off. Social media only magnifies this, a place for everybody to voice whatever opinion they wish.

Whilst I respect your right to an opinion, I don't have to agree. Sometimes I'll voice my opinion in return. 

Unless of course you're an idiot.

Then there's just no point.

I could argue that your source information is biased, I could argue that your opinion is based on blatant lies but if you're an idiot then you're not going to listen to anyone else and I'm just wasting my time.

Case 1

Nosebook status appears on my time line saying this:

"I'm walking round Bedford park with the dogs and not one person I passed speaks English. I hate this country !!!"

Well that's pissed me off to start with because I love my home town, yes there are many foreign languages to be heard but I don't think it detracts from it, there is a long history of immigration to this town and I see this as a positive.

I'd seen this sort of stuff from this person before and just let it go. On this occasion I copped on to myself and decided it was high time I questioned him.

I started with the not so original - If you don't like it, move.

Which prompted this reply:
"This is our country not there's they should fuck off home"

Ah the old "it's mine, not yours, fuck off home" defence. I've already lost interest. It would appear that I'm dealing with an idiot. I thought i would let him know in my response.

"My bad, I should know better than starting an argument with an idiot.

Oh and it's theirs not there's."

He didn't like that. Cue Daily Mail reader style rant. I should point out that someone else made a comment on the status which went completely over the author's head.

"I feel so sad for u 2 who are happy for them to live here and pay for then, most of don't pay taxes, send there benefits home to there family's who don't live here, rape our welfare system, can't speak English etc etc, I know there are British people who a just lazy benefits cheats, we should stand up and do something about it!!!"

In the meantime, I also got a text saying something along the lines of - If you don't like it then delete me.
Oh I see, didn't want to be that aggressive on Nosebook where people could see it (we have a lot of mutual friends) so thought you'd send a nice private text instead.

One more comment and then we're done then.
"Like I said, I don't argue with idiots. I refuse to have this conversation until you can provide some evidence to back up your statement. I think you're right in what you said in your text, I'm better off just deleting you. I'll be sure to pass on your comments to my mum to see if she would like to "fuck off back to her own country" as you so eloquently put it."
And then I pressed delete and that was the end of that. I don't have to put up with his racist bollocks anymore because I choose not to have him in my life or indeed, on my timeline.

This happened around 18 months ago and was the beginning of me thinking, I don't have to read this shite, if you spout crap on social media that I don't agree with or you're forever posting crap from Britain bloody First, I don't have to read it, I don't have to get wound up about it because I can press delete.

Case 2

Nosebook again.

A status reads along the lines of "I don't think Ched Evans is rapist...."

Well a court of law disagrees.

"If you look at this website...."

What? The same one that's being investigated for contempt of court? Yeah, that'll be nice and unbiased.

"She shouldn't have drunk so much..."

Oh for fucks sake. This again?

Why am I bothering to read this drivel?

Just press delete.

Thanks for reading.

Thursday, 20 November 2014

Being In My Thirties - Drinking On A School Night

I've been lacking in time and inspiration for my blog recently, however slowly but surely the inspiration is coming back. After reading a post about what someone had learnt since being in their twenties I thought I'd write something similar about my thirties.

The first thing we need to talk about is alcohol. More specifically drinking on a school night.
There was a time when I first started work when I was out Thursday, Friday and Saturday night with the odd Sunday thrown in. Friday's at work would pass in a haze of Coke, coffee and Pro-Plus. I'd be full up to my ears in caffeine but I'd be productive. The boss didn't care as long as I got the work done.

Fast forward 15 years or so and drinking on a school night is simply no longer an option. Especially now I get the train to work, I'm pretty sure that trains and hangovers do not mix.  Prior to getting the train to work I was a 20 minute walk away from the office. That doesn't sound so bad does it? Let me tell you about the last time I drank on a school night.....

My best friend was coming round to dinner.

"Do you fancy going out for dinner? I can't be arsed to cook"

And so the scene was set.

It was only Nandos, nothing fancy but we had a bottle of wine with dinner.

With still much gossiping to do we adjourned to a nearby pub where we had another bottle of wine.

There was still talking to be done after that so another bottle of wine was purchased.

And then the pub closed.

"Shall we go home?"

"I don't know, it feels a bit early"

It was midnight. On a Wednesday. We both had work the next day.

So we went a few doors down to another drinking establishment which had the added bonus of a late licence and a dance floor.

Another bottle of wine was purchased and it cost £5. This was not quality wine.

Memories from this point forward are hazy. I remember moving on to vodka, I remember dancing and that's it.

The next thing I hear is the door slam.

My front door. 

It's 8 in the morning and my friend has just left for work. I'm eyes open wide awake. No particularly strong headache, no significant urge to vom, not bad!

On reflection I may have still been a little bit drunk.

I wander round the flat aimlessly for a bit, not really knowing what to do with myself and trying to remember the journey home.

Then I spot a bag. A BP carrier bag. I cling to a very vague memory of being in front of the chocolate display at the local BP garage trying to look sober.
I open the bag and this is what I find:
1 × kingsize Snickers
1 × kingsize Twix
1 × kingsize Mars
2 × Wispa
2 × Walkers ready salted crisps
2 × can of Coke
20 B & H Silver

I burst out laughing (definitely still pissed), that is proper random drunk buying but there was clearly still a part of my head that knew I would need Coke and crisps from breakfast. Oh and some chocolate.

Also in the bag one receipt adding up to nearly £20 time stamped at 2.32am. Well that answers the question of what time did we got home at.

Eventually after a lot of faffing about I finally get into work. And this is where being in my thirties takes its toll.

I might not have much of a headache but I feel like I haven't slept and no amount of caffeine makes any difference. In fact it just makes me feel sick. I'm there in physical form but I've got the mental capacity of a stapler. Productivity is zero.

All I can think is - how did I used to do this on a regular basis?

I practically crawled out of the office at 4pm (Thank god for flexi time) apologising to my boss and promising to work extra hard the next day. I don't mind admitting that I went straight home and straight to bed.

This was a couple of years ago and I haven't done it since. My school night limit is now 3 glasses of wine (not bottles) and that's a rare occasion.

No more getting hammered on a school night. Those days are over.

Unless I've got the next day off......I think that might be a whole other post!

Thanks for reading

Tuesday, 11 November 2014

The 11th Hour of The 11th Day of The 11th Month

"They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them."

Last two photos courtesy of Ian @cambscobbler