Today, while stumbling blindly around the internet like the drunk homeless guy I saw hanging around the cheap vodka in Sainsbury's at ten past eight this morning, I came across this. Well, I say "stumbled", but like the homeless guy in Sainsbury's I kind of knew where I was, having originally been linked to another page on the same blog through twitter. I just didn't know I was going to find anything that made me laugh as much as the concept of "brick roulette" . I thought I'd share it with you. (At this point I should also clear up that the cheap booze in Sainsbo's is en-route from the croissants to the checkout. I wasn't perusing the own-brand gin at eight-ten this morning any more than the hobo was taking a pan-au-chocolat to the self service.)
Not content with one homeless encounter I had a fun second about a minute later, when I crossed the road to find a man in a sleeping-bag on our office doorstep. I felt sorry for him - I feel sorry for all homeless people, really - and I didn't want to wake him up. However, I was at this point caught in the grip of a massive and terrible internal conflict; I also wanted to eat my croissant, inside, on a comfy chair. I simply had to get into the building. A plan was formulated.
I carefully looked down to plant my shoe in the small space formed by the crook of his neck and the door, the only way I could reach the keypad. Stabilising myself against the door, I reached over to the pad on the wall above his head. So far so good. The foot was planted, position was stable. I looked down again and, in doing so, noticed that he was in fact, wide awake. And staring at me with what can only be described as an expression of considerable peevishness. The kind of look you reserve for those occasions when you've just caught somebody squatting over your flowerbeds. Or just woken up in a potentially uncomfortable early-morning near-teabagging situation with a complete stranger.
The straddled groin-above-head moment continues for far longer than it should. I key in the number on the pad and - get it wrong. The door emits a pissed off buzzing sound. We wait, wordlessly, as the door finishes letting us know quite how much I've angered it. I look down again. Eye contact by now is well and truly established. He's not moved a muscle and is looking really quite pissed off. The door eventually stops buzzing and I key in the code again. It's right this time, the door buzzes its appreciation in a much happier way. I hurriedly step inside. His eyes follow me. The door takes an age to slowly swing shut on its fire-safety hinges. When it finally does I pull out my phone and aim it, considering a blog photo. I catch his eye again; that's a seriously unhappy glare... and I decide against the picture. In retrospect, not taking a picture was a mistake as it would be quite a nice one to blog with, but that's hindsight for you.
Which neatly and concisely brings me onto the birdy part of the day. I did Rainham again this evening. I was tired when I got in not having slept all that well all week, and consequently the prospect of dragging myself out to Two-Tree Island and back for a night heron didn't appeal all that much. Naturally, having been out to Rainham and seen very little, the prospect of driving to Two-Tree and back seemed far more appealing, but as I say, such is hindsight.
I missed out on grasshopper warbler again, but did find a skylark doing a very passable impression of one. The usual two peregrines were there but not at the same time and the most interesting bird I found was an all-black mallard with a white front on its neck. Quite pretty, for a yuck-duck, and not a pattern I've seen before. I did take a picture, but it's on my phone and I can't be arsed getting off.
Pffft, who cares about night herons anyway? Seen one already...
Not content with one homeless encounter I had a fun second about a minute later, when I crossed the road to find a man in a sleeping-bag on our office doorstep. I felt sorry for him - I feel sorry for all homeless people, really - and I didn't want to wake him up. However, I was at this point caught in the grip of a massive and terrible internal conflict; I also wanted to eat my croissant, inside, on a comfy chair. I simply had to get into the building. A plan was formulated.
I carefully looked down to plant my shoe in the small space formed by the crook of his neck and the door, the only way I could reach the keypad. Stabilising myself against the door, I reached over to the pad on the wall above his head. So far so good. The foot was planted, position was stable. I looked down again and, in doing so, noticed that he was in fact, wide awake. And staring at me with what can only be described as an expression of considerable peevishness. The kind of look you reserve for those occasions when you've just caught somebody squatting over your flowerbeds. Or just woken up in a potentially uncomfortable early-morning near-teabagging situation with a complete stranger.
The straddled groin-above-head moment continues for far longer than it should. I key in the number on the pad and - get it wrong. The door emits a pissed off buzzing sound. We wait, wordlessly, as the door finishes letting us know quite how much I've angered it. I look down again. Eye contact by now is well and truly established. He's not moved a muscle and is looking really quite pissed off. The door eventually stops buzzing and I key in the code again. It's right this time, the door buzzes its appreciation in a much happier way. I hurriedly step inside. His eyes follow me. The door takes an age to slowly swing shut on its fire-safety hinges. When it finally does I pull out my phone and aim it, considering a blog photo. I catch his eye again; that's a seriously unhappy glare... and I decide against the picture. In retrospect, not taking a picture was a mistake as it would be quite a nice one to blog with, but that's hindsight for you.
Which neatly and concisely brings me onto the birdy part of the day. I did Rainham again this evening. I was tired when I got in not having slept all that well all week, and consequently the prospect of dragging myself out to Two-Tree Island and back for a night heron didn't appeal all that much. Naturally, having been out to Rainham and seen very little, the prospect of driving to Two-Tree and back seemed far more appealing, but as I say, such is hindsight.
I missed out on grasshopper warbler again, but did find a skylark doing a very passable impression of one. The usual two peregrines were there but not at the same time and the most interesting bird I found was an all-black mallard with a white front on its neck. Quite pretty, for a yuck-duck, and not a pattern I've seen before. I did take a picture, but it's on my phone and I can't be arsed getting off.
Pffft, who cares about night herons anyway? Seen one already...
1 comments:
That just made me laugh out loud on my morning train, your fault. Still, laughing to yourself for no reason is a very good method to clear the seat next to you.
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