Senior moment (slight return)

I had a major senior moment at work the other week. Actually, it was more than a moment really; it lasted several days.

Whenever I went to make a cup of tea in the kitchen, or popped to the loo, or headed off to a meeting somewhere, I kept bumping into this young woman in the corridor outside my office. Metaphorically bumping into, that is—it wasn't that kind of senior moment. It was uncanny: almost every time I had cause to walk down the corridor, there she was coming the other way. I had no idea who she was; a new face from another department, no doubt.

After a while, our bumping into each other became something of a private joke: I would nod at her, or share a conspiratorial smirk we walked past each other.

Until a week last Thursday, that is, when I finally realised that she was two totally different women. I know this for a fact, because I saw them talking with each other. Apart from their blonde hair, petite builds, and stylish suits, they looked absolutely nothing like each other. Not even remotely.

I'll bet they were talking about the nutter down the corridor who keeps smirking at them.

See also: Senior moment

Senior moment

True story: I heard someone refer to 'the Prime Minister' on the radio yesterday, and I suddenly went blank. For a whole 15 seconds or so, I couldn't remember who the Prime Minister was.

Jesus! It's finally come to this, I thought.

But, reflecting on it afterwards, I think this little tale says more about Gordon Brown than it does about me.

At least I hope it bloody well does.

Salt & pepper

While we were out playing the Paparazzo Game the other week, Stense complimented me on my "salt and pepper beard".

It wasn't until the following day that I realised what Stense was really trying to tell me was that my beard has recently developed quite a few grey flecks. I sent her a text message, pointing out that she had spoken about my salt and pepper beard as if it was a good thing to have. Her reply:

Of course! It's a very distinguished look - well done! Stense xx

Distinguished! I liked that! For about 24 hours, that was. Then it occurred to me that I have only ever heard the adjective distinguished used to describe elderly people. The cheeky cow!

The problem with having my particular salt and pepper beard is that three or four of its grey hairs have chosen to clump together directly under my left nostril. From a distance, when the beard hasn't been trimmed for a couple of weeks, this can look uncannily like a trail of snot.

Which isn't particularly distinguised.


BBC: Many would 'want to live to 100'

Many Britons would give up favourite things, including sex, to reach 100 years of age, a poll suggests.

Some 40% said they would give up sex—half of women and a third of men—39% food and drinks and 42% travel.

Why do people have to be so STUPID? Why elect to give up sex and food and travel and stuff in order to live to be 100, when they might just as easily have chosen to give up things they don't like doing, such as filling in tax returns, or mowing the lawn? Me? I would quite happily give up decorating, going to the dentist, and queuing behind old ladies who prefer to pay with cash, if it meant I could live to be 100.

I mean, it stands to reason.

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