It’s Only Under G!

I have had a few interesting experiences over the past few weeks that have kind of made me question the things I needed to do, and the obstacles within the way.

Last night I finished reading an excellent historical novel. It was the sort of book that gripped me from the very first page and then held on to me for the past few weeks so that I couldn’t wait to devour each page. I had numerous late nights of sleep because I couldn’t put it down. It was wonderful. In fact, in conversation with a friend today, I mentioned that for the first time ever in all my years of reading, I have never cried over a book, yet with this one, I had the tears falling at 12.30 am this morning, because the twist and the culmination of the story was that well written that I felt so moved by it all. So there it is, a book that for the one and only time in my life made me cry when I reached the end.

The setting above made me practically bounce out of bed this morning and change this book (Sob!) for another by the same author. I have written a post about her before, Rosie Goodwin. I was on a mission, therefore, to get another from this same author this morning. I must inform you that the library I visited was the central lending library in my hometown of Leicester. This place has got lots and lots of books on lots and lots of shelves inside lots and lots of rooms. So, I entered one of these rooms and headed towards the ‘G’ section because I wanted Goodwin. Makes sense!

Every aisle was clear, every shelf was open and every face within was smiling. I walked past D, then  E, and then  F. Unfortunately,  instead of being able to look at the books on offer by Rosie Goodwin, when I approached ‘G’, there was a great big hunk of scaffolding in front of ‘G’. I said to myself out loud “You’ve got to be f****g kidding me”.  Of the thousands upon thousands of books on offer, the only piece of scaffolding had to be in front of the bit that I wanted to look at. The bloody G!!!

So I go up to the smug librarian and said:

“You know that ‘G’ section down there, well I want a book from that shelf and you have all this crazy scaffolding around it, so is there any way I can get one. I’ll wear a hard hat if you like?”

“What is your name?” he asked

“It’s Miss Luckless”, I offered, sarcastically

“Well, we knew you were coming today, so we decided to put some scaffolding up to really piss you off because we knew you wanted ‘G’, so go away and come back again when it’s been removed”.

So this scenario has occurred a few more times recently. I have an absolute favorite lipstick called ‘Fudge Brownie’ by Rimmel. I’ve used it for years and it’s a lovely shimmery copper colour that goes well with my skin type. I used the last dregs of it the other day and went into ‘Boots’ for a replacement but I couldn’t find it anywhere. So I visited a few more well-known makeup outlets and had the same outcome.

I asked one of the assistants. “I’m looking for the Fudge Brownie lipstick by Rimmel, but I’ve noticed no one seems to sell it”

She looked down at her list. “What’s your name”, she said?”

“Miss Living in Hope”, I answered.

“Well, we knew that you were coming so Rimmel decided to discontinue it after 20 years to really piss you off”.

(Mmmmmm, sounds about right I thought)

The last episode was 3 weeks ago. I’ve wanted to visit a stately home in the Midlands for the past couple of months. The problem is, whilst reading their up-to-date website, it was mentioned that unfortunately all visitors would not be able to wander around the vast building of the stately home and would be kept within a certain area to take a look at the ‘Chinese Dinosaur Exhibition’. Well, I don’t want to go to a Stately home run by the National Trust to visit Chinese bloody dinosaurs. I want to visit this site of our national heritage to view the wonders of the past within its listed walls. So I rang the people of the establishment.

“Hello,” I said. “I’m just ringing because I noticed that you have this dinosaur exhibition, but I want to visit your stately home because it’s the summer, and it’s the only time I can visit you, mainly due to the fact that my children are on their school holidays and they are older now and their interest is focused more on the history of the area and the house. They are not interested in Chinese Dinosaurs”.

“What is your name?” She said.

“Miss Tits Up”, I replied.

“Oh yes”, she said, “We knew you wanted to visit us so we decided to show this Chinese Dinosaur Exhibition, which bears no relation to anything to do with the stately home, but we knew you wanted to come with your older kids so we did it to piss you off”.

This explains the unfortunate events, which are actually trivialities but have affected my life recently. It makes me really want to shout out “You got to be shitting me!”

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