The taxi

Very often, as I drive home from work, there is a taxi parked rather inconveniently on a bend in the road. On the side on which I drive home. If there is any traffic coming in the opposite direction, I (or anyone else on this side) have to stop as there is not enough room for both to pass. This house is on an estate, but has a back door on this main road. Because of this, I’d assumed that the house belonged to the taxi driver, or he was too lazy to pull round the front of the house to collect his fare. I usually drive around the taxi with a glare, muttered expletives and plenty of bad thoughts.

Then I drove home today.

I saw the taxi driver. I also saw the man for whom the taxi had been booked. He was mentally and physically disabled. The taxi driver was holding his elbow, walking him to his back door, which was the shortest distance he would need to walk as this was obviously causing him difficulty, ensuring that he got in safely.

When did I stop assuming the best in people?

I must try harder.

Never again will I grumble at the taxi parked on the bend. Never again will I think bad of the driver.

Instead, I shall wish that I was more like him.

Dull, dull, dull.

Hello strangers!

It’s been a bit since I blogged last. This is mainly due to the fact that I haven’t actually done anything blogworthy! How dull.

I have an exam coming up in just under 3 weeks. Yelp. I’m training to be an accountant. I really am living the dream, aren’t I? So I shall mainly be revising for the foreseeable future. Although I do have to fit in some running time too, as I have a race (10k) coming up in June for which I really need to train. I still don’t feel like a ‘runner’ yet. I thought that I would by now. But, as it is, I’m just another guy who has trouble finding the motivation to get out of the door and run! I need to remember each time how good I’ll feel afterwards in order to get me to do it in the first place. Ho hum.

Still, the day after the exam I’m off up to Manchester to partake of the carnage that is a mate’s Stag weekend. It could get messy. But it should serve as a good reward for being a boring bugger over the previous month.

I trust that you are all enjoying thoroughly exciting existences?

The weekend

Well? How was yours?

Saturday was spent tidying the house and preparing food for when my good friends Paul and Ross came round with their families, which was wonderful. The visit, that is, not the tidying. Sunday, I did very little really. We did a little planting in the garden, and I spotted the little flower above sprouting out of the overgrown jungle that is our garden. We hadn’t planted it, it’s just turned up. And I found it quite inspiring.

Other than that, I did pretty much nothing. Which you would have thought would have been relaxing, and that I’d be feeling all fresh and revitalised today. But I’m not. Maybe I would have felt better if I had done something constructive.

I don’t know.

Maybe I have too restless a mind.

The Great Tie Debacle

‘When I pass people in the hall at work, I get totally ZEN right in everyone’s hostile little FACE’, Fight Club – Chuck Palahniuk

I am wearing a tie today. I also wore one yesterday. I don’t usually wear ties to the office. I used to, but then the ‘dress code’ got gradually more relaxed and so smart-ish trousers and a shirt of some description seem to become de rigeur. I usually opt for brown cords. Exciting, I know. Sometimes I revert back to wearing your classic black ‘work trousers’, especially if the others are in the wash. When I do this, I feel that a shirt and tie combo work well with it, so I sometimes opt for this. For some reason, this causes much concern in the office, with remarks varying from the casually intrigued:

‘You’re looking very smart today, Aled’

To the downright accusatory:

‘Got an interview?’

Wearing a tie for 2 days in a row appears to really freak people out. They seem rather confused and almost afraid to ask what’s going on.

They don’t appear to like it.

I do.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll come in just a gold thong.