bored of excitement – the griefjunkie blog 

Archive for August, 2011

For Idle Hands To Do

Wednesday, August 24th, 2011

Dear Rachel

We didn’t have a valid insurance certificate the last time we traded at the Thames Festival, so to be on the safe side Tony drew one for us.  Resourceful bluffing of this kind is a valuable asset when trading at events, and a great deal cheaper than getting actual insurance.  Sadly, I do not have Tony’s easy familiarity with the calligraphic arts, so when I trade at it this year I will be fully insured to do something for the first time in my life.  Lack of insurance is also a hindrance when attempting to drive legally, but fortunately not if you’re driving illegally, so I foresee no problem getting the considerable amounts of stock involved to and from the event itself.


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Walking Through Town Is Quite Scary

Wednesday, August 17th, 2011

Dear Rachel,

In future, whenever I have bad news to impart – redundancy, death of a parent, the unhappy results of a smear test, and so forth – I’m going to ask the recipient to whip their shoes off and boing about on a bouncy castle at a children’s party while I do so, because nothing seems so bad when you’re airbourne among all that red and yellow vinyl in the company of five year olds.  I discovered this last Monday when I was informed, in a voice shouted over the happy yelling and squealing, that Croydon had burned down, Clapham had gone up, and the whole of London had gone off.

I was eating toothpaste in the bath when I learned that John Lennon had been shot.   Thirty one years later, and being roughly thirty one years older than my bouncy castle companions, I have a much more immediate grasp of cultural events.    Therefore,  it only took a couple of hours  for the  implications of the London riots to become clear.   By three o’clock the following morning, with my bouncing shenanighans seeming to belong to an entirely different world, I was drinking tea, watching rolling news footage and finding myself unable to say anything other than the names of parts of London whose streets and inhabitants are familiar to me, as they drifted across the bottom of the screen accompanied by words such as ‘riot’, ‘looting’, ‘arson’ and ‘widespread’.


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Platform Game

Tuesday, August 2nd, 2011

Dear Rachel,

I know a girl who went on a date with a bloke last year – an internet date, actually – and she said that he’d been basically nice, despite turning up quite late (he’d cycled across town to West Kensington) and appearing irritable and distracted throughout. Towards the end of the evening, while she was talking about her work, he said ‘I’m sorry to have to interrupt you, but I think I’ve broken my arm’ which, after she’d driven him to casualty, it turned that he actually had, after falling off his bike on the way over.  This neatly explained the lateness, irritability, and distraction at a stroke.  I would on principle marry any girl who made several hours of polite chit chat before revealing that they were nursing a more than slightly severe and traumatic injury, and I was saddened to learn that the relationship lasted only another two or three dates before fizzling out.


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