Odds and Ends

I’ve been off-line this past few days – partly because life just got in the way and partly because I haven’t had access to a decent connection. Anyway, it’s been an odd few days. The cyclist on the M20 merely being the start.

The Terrible Twos

I had a few hours to kill, so as I was passing on my way down country, I popped in to see my youngest sister and her daughter. Said daughter is two and a half and more than a handful, if truth be told. There was a moment during the afternoon when my sister had to nip out to the kitchen, leaving niece and I alone in the front room. Niece took it upon herself to seize this opportunity to play up. She clambered onto an armchair, balancing precariously on the arm with the intention of climbing onto the mantelpiece. So, as you do, I said; “Don’t do that, it’s not safe.”

Seemed reasonable to me. I was completely unprepared for what happened next. Niecy dropped to her knees on the chair, put her head down between them and while shaking her fists, screamed. And screamed. And screamed. And… You get the picture.

My sister told me that this is normal. Apparently, she doesn’t like the “N” word… (“No”, in case you were wondering).

I do hope I don’t end up being recorded as a negative influence on ContactPoint. And I’m only half joking.

Self Service Checkouts

Living in France, while being delightful, one misses the occasional UK product. That’s why I do a Sainsbury’s shop each time I return. An Ex-pat neighbour asked if I could get a couple of things for her, too. So, my nephew and I did the rounds, collecting various bits and bobs – mostly the recipe for Christmas Pud – something the French don’t do. Anyway, we couldn’t get everything we wanted, so we decided to try the Asda outlet on the way back to my sister’s place (the other sister). We couldn’t get what we wanted there either, but there were a couple of items that I had forgotten in Sainsbury’s, so I picked them up at Asda.

There were some pretty horrendous queues at the checkouts, so, foolishly, I went to the self service ones.

A tip here; never, ever use the self service checkouts. They would try the patience of a very patient man from patienceville…

I swiped the first item.

Bleep!

There was a pause as my nephew grabbed one of the bags and put the purchase in. We then got an error message about the bagging area. I pressed the “continue” button in the screen and told him to put the bag down as it detected the weight – well, I think that’s how they work. Anyway we had confused it.

I swiped the second item.

Beeeeeep! Error! You have swiped the item twice.

No I bloody well haven’t, I have bought two identical items. An assistant came to reset the machine, because it wouldn’t let me do anything.

I swiped items three and four.

Beeeeeeep! Age related items. Seek assistance.

What the fucking fuckitty fuck? Two packs of fucking aspirin, for crying out loud. Yup, just in case I was planning to top myself with two packs of aspirin, I have to get an assistant to check that I’m over twenty-five. Fortunately, he didn’t ask for “ID” or I’d have walked. He just reset the machine.

Having finally got the machine to accept my purchase and take the debit card details, we left the shop with me feeling just a little ragged at the edges. I am not a happy shopper at the best of times and fighting with technology that is supposed to make life more simple but in reality makes it feel like doing battle with the outputs of the Sirius Cybernetics Corp only to be beaten to the door by the people who waited in the long queue does my blood pressure no good whatsoever.

In future, I will wait for the manned checkouts, I think.

And Finally…

While I am having a moan, if you are one of those people who thinks that travelling on a motorway at sub 50mph speeds is “safe” just take a look in the mirrors once in a while and indulge in a little introspection. Those cars swerving around you at the last minute are doing so because you are too retarded to use the motorway properly. You do understand the effects of closing speed on a motorway, don’t you?

And, no, I wasn’t one of them, before you ask, just a mildly irritated observer.