The Wheels on The Bus Go Round and Round...

As discussed previously, I spend a large part of my day travelling to and from work.  As I work in the city centre of Nottingham it is easier (I use that term loosely) to get the bus back and forth.  Now, this is the bane of my life on most days, but it also gives me an opportunity to have a ponder and also people watch / eavesdrop.

If I could read on the bus I would have got through the massive pile of books I have got in no time at all, but alas, I am of the persuasion where it makes me feel a bit tom dick so I don’t bother.  I am usually plugged into my iPod instead. 

Check out that view

Even with headphones in I can still overhear some dozy arse conversations sometimes.  A woman not long ago plonked herself down next to me and phoned her mother as soon as she sat down.  This woman was around 40 odd I’d guess and she proceeded to inform ‘mother’ of what she had been buying whilst shopping.  I got the ins and outs of the Debenhams sale, how she had a money saving voucher, but it didn’t work, so she went to customer services and it turns out that the item wasn’t in the offer, but she wanted the item, so she bought it anyway, but it meant that she saved on some trousers…..AHHHHH!!!!  It went on for about 30 minutes.  I was near to strangling her with my headphones cord, but I resisted the urge and put some thrash metal on to calm myself down….

A top tip for you – there is usually someone being annoying loud on the bus talking on their mobile phone.  If however, you don’t think this is the case, then its more than likely you.  Think on it…

Something else that people on the bus are guilty of is taking up 2 seats with all their bags.  I will admit, I have done this before, BUT in my defence I only do it when there are plenty of empty seats.  I wouldn't dream of doing it when there is no room.  Although to be fair, most of the time no-one wants to sit next to me anyway with the exception of the talkative old woman who ignores the fact I have headphones in and proceeds to disturb me all the way home.  She’s great!  There was also the time I got totally drenched in a down pour and it could have looked a bit like I had pissed myself, but I swear I hadn’t.  Not on that occasion anyway….

 

Form an orderly queue please

Then we have the queue jumpers.  Grrrrr, this gets me really riled up.  I have been waiting patiently in a queue (as is the British way) and some knobhead disregards the line of people and waltzes onto the bus first.  It makes my blood boil.  But as is also the British way, we ignore it and just mumble to ourselves that it was ‘frightfully rotten of him’ and do nothing.  I did shove someone out of the way once when he tried to push in front of me and the sense of achievement was amazing!  Take that you prick!  Strangely, come to think of it, I haven’t seen him for a long time.  Hmm….

The bus I catch to work doesn’t appear to have any sort of timetable whatsoever.  I just rock up whenever I can and hope that it will appear soon.  Usually it doesn’t, but I can’t bring myself to walk to another stop and catch another bus.  “I've committed to this one and need to stick with it” I say to myself and the 3^rd other bus I can catch drives past…. One day I will learn and will perhaps be fit enough to run for the alternative.  When I say “I can’t even run for the bus”, I genuinely mean this.  I am so unfit it’s not funny.  If I ever have to run for the bus it takes me about 20 minutes of heavy breathing to calm myself down afterwards.  The other passengers probably think they’re dialed into a dirty phone line with all the noise.  Not that I would know what that sounds like of course….

The drivers themselves can either be very nice or down right miserable gits.  Last night was a prime example of a total dick driver on the bus I got home.  It was parked up at the stop, but as I went to get on-board he shut the doors.  He then decided to allow me on, but his machine wasn’t logged in so when I tried to ‘touch on’ using my card the machine went a bit haywire.  “You can’t do it yet, you can’t do it yet” he shouted at me.  Alright happy, calm down will you.  “I’m already running 10 minutes late” he spat at me.  Well that’s not my fault is it.  You clearly weren’t waiting for me were you as you have just tried to kill me by closing the doors on my head, you moron.  In London the bus drivers are encased in ten foot of plastic so no-one can get near them.  They don’t make eye contact with you and certainly don’t speak to you.  I’m not sure what is worse, having drivers who are totally removed from you or having ignorant ones who think it’s acceptable to be rude to you.  Although, to be fair, you don’t need to be driving a bus to do that…

Office Overheard

My office is full of amusing little tit-bits so I decided to share these with you.  I have to admit, some of the time I deliberately set things up to cause amusement, but sometimes there are gems of comments that need to be shared. 

Today’s comment came after a discussion on fish and chips and what you have with it.  Someone was talking about mushy peas and the response was “I don’t like mushy peas.  I like to know where one pea ends and another one starts”…. Genius.

Southern Comfort...

WARNING!  This blog contains swearing!

There are plenty of blogs around that discuss life in various cities around the UK so I guess this won’t be that different to any of those.  I decided to write this as I wanted to share with you my views and feelings about coming from East London and being classed as a cockney when you live somewhere else in the country and feel like a bit of an outsider.

Now, actually, I am not really a proper cockney.  I sound like one, but I’m more of a mockney (mock cockney).  In fact I sound a bit like I should be in a Guy Richie film playing a villain.  To be a proper cockney you need to have been born within the sound of the Bow Bells, which sadly I wasn’t.  Here’s a little bit of info from Wikipedia on this:

The term Cockney has geographical, social, and linguistic associations. Traditionally, it refers to people born within a certain area of London that is covered by "the sound of Bow bells". It is often used to refer to working-class Londoners in the East End. Linguistically, it can refer to the accent and form of English spoken by this group.

Can you hear the sound of Bow Bells?

I grew up in East London and lived there until I was about 27.  Since then I have lived in the Midlands and this is part of the reason why I wanted to write this blog.  Coming from somewhere outside of this area causes the people I work and socialise with no end of amusement.  I think it is perhaps the only reason that I am employed where I work, to bring fun and endless comedy value to the office.  I don’t think a day goes by where someone doesn't try to imitate my accent.  “Cor blimey guvnor” or “apples and pears” are just some of the things that are regularly thrown at me.  I wouldn’t mind, but I'm pretty sure I've never called someone guvnor in my life….

Anyway, it’s interesting to think that where you come from brings with it a whole set of assumptions.  I mean, along with the slang words I think people genuinely think I dress up at the weekend as a Pearly Queen.  Don’t be so stupid people, that’s reserved for special occasions only….

My weekend attire I'll have you know...

For a short time I had a co-conspirator at work who came from Croydon.  He also sounded like me so we were the 2 southerners in the midst of Middle Earth.  It was comforting to have someone who sounded familiar and we had a lot of laughs telling people we were actually related as clearly all people from the South know one another.  And as is portrayed so heavily in Eastenders (cos it’s totally real) none of us own a washing machine and we all drink in one pub.  He once told me that the fact the locals could not handle our accents was because the Midlands don’t really have one and as such they actually have no idea what to do with it so they resort to poking at it with a stick.  It’s true, the accent around here is very mild.  Quite pleasant, but it doesn’t really stand out at all so I think I can see his point.

Living as an idiot abroad comes with a whole new set of rules.  I have to repeat myself a lot as the folks can’t quite grasp my lack of pronunciation.  In fact, we cockneys tend to add letters into words just for the fun of it.  The word castle is a good example.  We say it as CARS-ALL adding in an ‘R’ for literally reason whatsoever.  No idea why, we just do.  I guess we just want to use as many letters of the alphabet as we can.

One of the most interesting debates that you can have is the whole rolls and cobs debacle.   It goes a little something like this:

For the South – it’s a roll.

For the Midlands – it’s a cob.

For the North West – it’s a barm.

In Scotland – it’s a bap.

It’s an absolute minefield and it amuses me no end.  The same as the fact that in the South we don’t have anything wet with our chips (except possibly vinegar - yuk!)  Since living in the Midlands I have discovered that things like gravy and curry sauce are the usual additions with your fish and chips.  This is not the case in the South and when my friend from London came to visit and I had gravy with my meal I never heard the end of it!  GRAVY?? GRAVY???!!! 

Now, in the good old East End we have pie and mash which is an institution.  I can remember as a kid being taken to Manze’s pie and mash shop in Walthamstow and sitting in a booth having lunch.  It was a tradition, but I never had the liquor on top which apparently you then have to cover with vinegar (again yuk!).  The shop is still there so if you are ever in the neighbourhood, go and check it out as the mash is lovely!

Yum, pie and mash!

Living in London used to mean getting the Tube to work every day which was an experience that I guess you just got used to.  Standing up for 40 minutes pressed into some strangers armpit was the highlight of my day.  Now I get the bus into the city centre of Nottingham each day which brings with it some new joys.  We are currently having new tram lines built which means constant delays to and from work, but I do get to people watch which can be fun.  I sat behind someone last week who was doing the Metro crossword whilst proceeding to wipe his nose on his sleeve and hoping that no-one would notice.  Dirty bugger.  I saw you and I wasn’t impressed.  I bet he then rang with bell with the same hand…. nasty.

One other thing I will touch on briefly before I go is the fact that I mostly cannot have a conversation without introducing some sort of swear word into it. I can’t help it.  It’s part of our language and we have to emphasise things by adding a f**k or calling something shit.  It’s the law of the East End and I actually think most swear words sound better in my accent.  I tested this out once with a friend from Darlington and when he said some words they sounded cute and fluffy.  Not in the cockney accent my friends.  We were built for swearing and don’t you f**king forget it…!!

Now p**s off and let me do some more people watching…!