It's a bit rich

The almost life of a fifty something living in Norfolk

On the train

Plucking eyebrows on the 18.52 from Sheringham

Plucking eyebrows on the 18.52 from Sheringham

It’s a little before seven in the evening and I’m sat on a train at Sheringham Station blogging. Just opposite a young woman has all her make-up out and is giving her face the full works.

Behind her is a guy wearing headphones. He’s singing (miming) to his reflection in the train window.

There’s something about travelling on trains at night, when it’s dark outside, that’s very atmospheric. Gone are the vast open space of fields and sea and sky in the next room. Instead we’re all in this narrow tube together avoiding each other’s looks in the mirror like Windows.

We pull into Cromer and a fresh intake of faces join us. Join our carriage. A woman in a yellow jumper. A man with plastic shopping bags that look like they have been used many times.

Because of the way the railway is set out the train now continues out of Cromer the same way it came in and we won’t know if it has successfully negotiated the junction until we arrive in North Walsham (and hopefully not Sheringham again).

The young woman plats her hair. The woman in the yellow jumper looks at her book. The guy with the bags it too far down the train to see what he’s doing.

The guy with the headphones is not to be seen. I can only presume het alighted at Cromer.

We pull into North Walsham and I breathe a sigh of relief. We’re heading in the right direction and I can relax, sit back and avoid eye contact, which might be difficult as the young woman is now plucking her eyebrows.


What the..?

What the..?

This freaked me out.

A shadow head on a headless mannequin.

I’m off to bed.

I doubt I’ll sleep.

Ever again.

Trigger happy

On a train

On a train

Don’t get me wrong, I like that I can unlock my phone with my finger print. It makes me feels all futuristic or spy-like. Here I am at the cutting edge of technology. I literally have the future at my fingertips.

The only problem is that I seem to have got into the habit of somehow managing to open my phone and take pictures without knowing about it.

The picture on the right was taken today. It was while I was on a train. Obviously.

It’s amazing to think that within seconds of me inadvertently snapping my picture is uploaded into the cloud and available to family and friends to see. They must wonder what on earth I’m up to.


No idea

Earlier in the week I managed this one. I have no idea.

I’m looking to see if there’s a pattern. Perhaps my finger and phone are trying to tell me something. Some subliminal message. Perhaps a bit too subliminal.

I have a number of totally dark pictures that I presume are a study of the inside of my pockets.

I have no idea, sorry

I have no idea, sorry

Well if you insist, here’s a final one for now.

This is dated September 14th and was taken in Norwich. After that you’re on your own.

That row of green dots makes me think that it could be something to do with an alien life form of some sort, although it’s more likely to be inside where I work taken as I pulled the phone out of my pocket to take a call from someone offering to sort out all my PPI problems, when what I actually need is help with my fingerprint recognition button.

A little light has come on

A little light shaped like an engine

A little light shaped like an engine

A little light has come on. It’s shaped like an engine.

The handbook says that this is bad and I shouldn’t drive. Which has come as a bit of a blow because I was expecting to be driving for at least another fifteen years or so. Perhaps longer if we have guide dog drivers for the old in the future.

I pulled into a garage and asked them if they could tell me what the fault was as I needed to be in Sheringham for 10am. I was thinking that if the light had only come on to indicate that the faulty engine light was working I’d be able to get on wth my day.

The guy behind the counter said the earliest they could see me was 10.30. “Do you think it’s safe to drive to Sheringham?” I asked. “Can’t say. If a light has come on then it’s come on for a reason.” Yeah, that’s what I thought.

The handbook was’t much help. They have a little light in the shape of an oil can to tell you that you are low on oil. There’s a light in the shape of a petrol pump to indicate you are low on petrol. There’s a battery shaped one that tells you that your battery is low on power. There’s even one in the shape of a door to show you that the massive draft is down to the fact that a door is open.

But the engine shaped one only tells you that there’s something not right. No indication of what it is that you are low of, other than the ability to get where you want to go.

So now, until I can get it booked in, I’m without a car and will have to reply on public transport to get me to Sheringham tomorrow and London on Wednesday. What could possibly go wrong?

It can’t be true

Facebook doesn’t load. I stare at the computer screen and press refresh. It doesn’t load again.

Twitter is alive with tweets about Facebook being dead. I go back to the browser and hit refresh.

The BBC and The Guardian are running online stories about how this is the second time in a week that the  Facebook site has been unavailable. And yet I don’t believe them, so I hit refresh again.

The last time I felt like this – denial – was when someone stole my car and I refused to believe it, checking nearby car parks as well as other places I would never have left it. Gone.

I just refreshed again. The server timed out. And again. Nothing prepares you for this.

I may have to talk to someone. Did I tell you about that time someone stole my car?



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