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Feb. 24th, 2012 06:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolThis Lent, I have given up jam. I like jam as an occasional treat, and it's about the level of hardship I can cope with at the moment. I was debating cake, but since am getting married in the middle of Lent this was clearly a bad idea.
Richie is currently in Aberdeen, so I am on my lonesome until Sunday night. It's not a bad thing, really. I quite like having the flat to myself, and lying diagonal across the bed. It also gives me a chance to catch up on some TV - yay for Being Human, and why has no one told me about Homeland before? - and later tonight I'm going to go and get a takeaway and drink copious amounts of wine.
I think I will need copious amounts of wine, because I am having Problems With The Neighbours. The Friday before my hen party, I got a knock on the door, asking me to phone a taxi because it was an emergency. Well, okay, I though, and dialled the number. The Monday after this, I got a knock on the door. "I need to borrow your phone," Him Across The Way slurred at me. "I need to phone for a takeaway."
I firmly told him that we weren't a phonebox and shut the door on him. He tried the same trick at the other flats in the building, and came upstairs swearing when everyone refused. (We are MINUTES away from loads of food places by foot, and if you can afford takeaway you can afford to put credit on your phone.)
Last weekend, they had a stonking great row in the hallway regarding Him Across The Way going out and drinking all of Her Across The Way's money, doubled up with them dragging up a very drunken mate. It was fascinating to listen to, but a little alarming, particularly when she hauled her bike upstairs, screaming at him for having broken it.
There are dirty bike marks all up the hallway stairs, and now there are dirty bike marks on my door. I am going to clean them off tomorrow, but I've documented all of this for the landlady. One of the bright sides of all this is that the rest of our block of flats are getting quite friendly in terms of swapping horror stories about them.
Anyway, on my way home today there was a group of people deciding the sensible thing to do was cross at the roundabout, rather than the roads around it. They were carrying shedloads of lager. Luckily enough I didn't honk aggressively at them, as on closer inspection they were in fact my neighbours and presumably houseguests. They enjoy getting trollied on a Friday night, so I think I might as well. Tomorrow I have nothing more invigorating than going to getting some piercings swapped over and working on wedding programs, and none of these things need to be done all that early.
The rest of my family is at my aunt's wedding today. I have seen photos as Mum is surreptitiously sending them to me with sarcastic comments. It looks like a classy, classy affair. < / end sarcasm > (Yes, I am a horrible Bridezilla, but planning her wedding before mine was deliberate even if I have taken the moral high ground and sent a card down.)
Right. Hoovering, Chinese food, wine.
Richie is currently in Aberdeen, so I am on my lonesome until Sunday night. It's not a bad thing, really. I quite like having the flat to myself, and lying diagonal across the bed. It also gives me a chance to catch up on some TV - yay for Being Human, and why has no one told me about Homeland before? - and later tonight I'm going to go and get a takeaway and drink copious amounts of wine.
I think I will need copious amounts of wine, because I am having Problems With The Neighbours. The Friday before my hen party, I got a knock on the door, asking me to phone a taxi because it was an emergency. Well, okay, I though, and dialled the number. The Monday after this, I got a knock on the door. "I need to borrow your phone," Him Across The Way slurred at me. "I need to phone for a takeaway."
I firmly told him that we weren't a phonebox and shut the door on him. He tried the same trick at the other flats in the building, and came upstairs swearing when everyone refused. (We are MINUTES away from loads of food places by foot, and if you can afford takeaway you can afford to put credit on your phone.)
Last weekend, they had a stonking great row in the hallway regarding Him Across The Way going out and drinking all of Her Across The Way's money, doubled up with them dragging up a very drunken mate. It was fascinating to listen to, but a little alarming, particularly when she hauled her bike upstairs, screaming at him for having broken it.
There are dirty bike marks all up the hallway stairs, and now there are dirty bike marks on my door. I am going to clean them off tomorrow, but I've documented all of this for the landlady. One of the bright sides of all this is that the rest of our block of flats are getting quite friendly in terms of swapping horror stories about them.
Anyway, on my way home today there was a group of people deciding the sensible thing to do was cross at the roundabout, rather than the roads around it. They were carrying shedloads of lager. Luckily enough I didn't honk aggressively at them, as on closer inspection they were in fact my neighbours and presumably houseguests. They enjoy getting trollied on a Friday night, so I think I might as well. Tomorrow I have nothing more invigorating than going to getting some piercings swapped over and working on wedding programs, and none of these things need to be done all that early.
The rest of my family is at my aunt's wedding today. I have seen photos as Mum is surreptitiously sending them to me with sarcastic comments. It looks like a classy, classy affair. < / end sarcasm > (Yes, I am a horrible Bridezilla, but planning her wedding before mine was deliberate even if I have taken the moral high ground and sent a card down.)
Right. Hoovering, Chinese food, wine.
