Ramblin'

This post isn't going to be about anything much. Just me rambling.

Had to drop the car off at the garage this morning, because the bonnet-rlease lever wasn't working. I remembered to check my oil yesterday lunchtime. But sod's law and all that. The other sod's law aspect is the fact that this is Thursday - potentially my last commute-to-work day of the week for the 3rd week in a row. First such Thursday: motorway closed at J21 - both directions - so I had to take a wide and time-consuming detour and had a shitty journey to work.

Second such Thursday: motorway closed after J26 - queues going back to J25 when I first heard about it, so I made another, slightly less wide detour.

And today: can't open bonnet. Except. When I was on the phone to the garage, it came out as, "I can't open my boot." I know it's not a boot, but the word bonnet doesn't come out very easily. It's like the skirt/dress thing. You say, "Take your skirt off and make it look like it fell off..." And she says, "It's not a skirt, it's a dress." And you say, "Whadever."

A bonnet sounds like something you put on your head. Americans call it the hood. Which is also something you put on your head, if you are a yob, or an outlaw of some description.

I might as well take a camp bed and live at the VW garage. I'm practically an employee. Next time I might get a different brand of car, just so I meet some new people.

When I worked in the tax office, many years ago, I used to have a lot of trouble with various bosses. I've spoken about it before: people who criticised me for the way I walk, the way I dress, the way I look for files, and so on. The most mindblowingly petty, insignificant things. I was the very definition of the face that didn't fit. I still have the same kind of problems. People who don't know me from Adam Ant, decide they don't like my accent, or my little jokes and cutting remarks. I'm certainly guilty of having an always-on joke reflex, and I don't guard secrets well, and have a low tolerance for preciousness, which is all around you.

One time, I had a direct supervisor who hated me because his girlfriend fancied me more than she did him. This is true, I swear to god. It's one big reason why you shouldn't date people from the office. There was this girl, I don't remember her name now, though I remember the boyfriend's name, my supervisor. She was not my type, I hasten to add. She was High Maintenance. Pretty, but lots of make-up, and, you know, hairspray and high heels. That kind of thing. It was the 80s. Probably.

Anyway, we were sitting near each other. The flipside of people hating me when they don't know me is that - surprisingly - they find they get along with me quite well when they work with me and/or know me better. Obviously, from a distance I give off the wrong kind of signals. I'm vibrating in N-space or something. So she was sitting across from me or something, and we chatted away, and started to continue our chats in the pub at lunchtime. This was the civil service, remember, and flexi-time (yay), so 2-hour lunchbreaks in the pub were, *cough*quite common*cough*.

Anyway, Truswell, that was his name, my immediate supervisor, was supposed to be engaged to her or something. And she was clearly looking for an escape route, via me, her stepping stone. I thought about it all this morning because I saw a lorry from a company called Truswell Transport on the motorway. So I didn't fancy her, but I liked her, and it was fun talking to her, and she was into it. And he was jealous.

So, if you can imagine, that was another year that I didn't get promoted, though I was doing my job as competently as anyone. Since then, I try to avoid involvement. People will still take a random disliking to you, or do a character assassination for their own purposes. And sometimes it's as blatantly selfish as the jealous boyfriend thing. So I get sick of it and just withdraw.

So I dropped off the car and walked up the hill, and I'm feeling a little warm from the unaccustomed exercise. I'm wearing a sur-chemise or overshirt that I got from Boden. Years ago, I hated with a passion the Boden catalogue and its smug (and self-promoting) models. But now I look at the clothes and realise they are my kind of thing, and I like the kind of service you get from Boden - the tailoring on the trousers to the length you want, etc. Not that I know the length I want. And I like these shirts, so I got two of them.

Looking through the catalogue, a couple of things struck me. One was that they do what I want to do with the catalogue I work on, which is to have two "fronts" and have one end upside down, meeting the other in the middle. So the women's side is one way up and the men's the other.

The other thing is that they still do that smug thing with the models, which doesn't bother me as much. The women are mostly gorgeous. Some of them obviously French, and I love French women (and married one). And they answer their questions in a certain way. Favourite indulgence: red wine; Favourite Chick Flick: Breakfast at Tiffany's. Innocent enough (still smug though), and likely to make you want to shag them all the more.

But the blokes are all answering in "jokey" ways, trying to be funny. Sartorial hero: Tarzan that kind of thing. And it is of course very annoying.

So I can see myself there, can't I? Wearing the Boden clothes, and giving jokey answers. And being annoying. So I understand why people dislike me. But I'm quite likeable when you sit near me, honestly. Just don't let your girlfriend too close, especially if she's French.