I'll Be The Judge Of That

I never judge anyone or anything, not even the devil, not until I am fully canvassed. I would always require a meeting first, to make my own mind up. I guess I have trouble trusting hearsay. I have my upbringing to thank for that.

Some People!

The end of a long hard week of argument and I arrive home, peer through the window of my front room and jump up and down pulling faces. My baby daughter soon sees me and climbs up onto the chair to jump up and down with excitement and giggle back at me. I open the front door and walk in, by which time she’s made it into the hall and charges towards me, I squat down and we embrace, she withdraws and tells me all about her day, my day is now forgotten, almost, I just need beer and dry roasted peanuts to completely rid me of the tension. Seeing as its Friday I agree to take Annie with me to the shop so she can choose a sweetie, off we go to the Co-op round the corner, me still suited and booted. As we enter, Annie takes a wheelie shopping basket from the pile and sets off pulling it behind her into the shop, it’s bigger than her, but she likes to be in charge of the shopping. The staff at the tills grin at her, those on the floor look on with slight anxiety, they all know her well. As usual, what should have been a couple of items becomes half a dozen as negotiations go her way, until finally we make it to the till and I realise I have forgotten something. I ask the lad on our particular checkout to serve other people while we go back in for something, we weren’t in any hurry, he agrees and places our items to one side. Unfortunately, Annie gets away from me, unwraps a Kinder Egg on the floor of the sweetie aisle, and there is chocolate shell and foil everywhere, by the time I prise Annie away, clean up the mess as best I can, find what I’m looking for and get back to the checkouts, there’s a queue of about four or five people for the two manned tills, so I join the end of it with Annie under one arm. As I do so, a woman in her sixties, who is almost finished at the checkout opposite my items, turns to me with absolute venom and almost hisses, ‘ This is your fault, you’ve caused this queue.’ I see red, all week I’ve had to argue with people in our professional capacities, yes it gets personal; yes it gets unreasonable and fraught with accusation, and now I’m faced with it on my weekend. I cannot abide argument or confrontation, especially in my personal life; I get quite enough in my work, so I avoid it like the plague after I’ve clocked off, I find a jolly demeanour, forgiving nature and impeccable manors work a treat for this. However, sometimes it cannot be avoided, and I’m no wall flower when faced with an unfounded attack. Calmly and firmly, I reply that the queue has in fact nothing to do with me, I'd made it very clear to staff that they were to serve other people whilst I went to get something I’d forgotten. ‘No you didn’t, you didn’t make it clear, and now there’s a queue,’ she spat, despite her having been nowhere near when I'd made it clear. By this time my fellow shoppers and some off the staff were shaking their heads at this vehement woman while smiling sideways sympathetically towards me. She reminded me of the people with whom I have to deal in a professional capacity almost daily, the people with whom I have to bite my lip not to destroy, that wasn’t necessary here, so I knew exactly what I wanted to say, she got it eventually, for her, and for every other fucker who fucked me off at court that week. I gave her one last chance, ‘Please, I don’t want an argument, I’ve argued all week and now it’s my time with my two year old.’ I couldn’t believe the silly old bats response to this, ‘I’m not arguing,’ she snapped. I didn’t point out that she was now arguing about whether we were arguing, instead my speech was as follows, and this goes out to all the other ignorant bastards out there; ‘A person of your years really should know better, it saddens me that you should have so little empathy that you cannot see that I’m a working father, on my own, with my arms full of shopping, a two year old in tow, just trying to do my best and keep life upbeat. Not only that, but for the sake of a few minutes you have spread your vent and negativity, and with a child present, shame on you, you miserable old goat, for God’s sake go and get help or top yourself, it’s better for everyone.’ I remained upset for some time after, but I sincerely hope she did too.

V Day Story

Valentine’s Day 2014 and I’m meeting my fiancée in town after work, I’ve got tickets to see the Nutcracker, a big bunch of flowers and the biggest card I could find, easily the best part of an A3. I finished up early so took the Met from Bury into central Manchester with a view to having a few beers in the Weatherspoon’s around the corner from Sam’s work. I managed to get myself a table and plonked myself up there, unconsciously spreading my flowers and card across it. Having supped three pints and being well on through my wait for Sam, I noticed quite a lot of disturbance at a nearby table; they looked like young professional types, probably just having met on a career development course and, given an early finish, decided to go to the pub. The girls were attractive, so I did find myself looking over from time to time, and certainly more than could have been deemed innocent people watching. I soon clocked the fact that I was clearly one of their topics of conversation. They obviously thought I looked handsome and were daring one of the girls to come and chat me up, there was certainly a lot of smiling and giggling in my direction. Eventually, the tidiest of the girls approached, she began talking to me, finding out about me and being very friendly and nice, I was in, perhaps I still had it. I was completely oblivious to the garish red card and flowers set out in front of me; pulling out a whole holdall of charm on her pretty little arse. Eventually, when the devil flashed across my mind, she asked me if I had been stood up! I explained that I hadn’t, I was waiting for my fiancée to finish work, that she’d be here any minute, and so, if she wanted my number she’d better hurry up and take out her phone. She laughed, exclaiming that they’d thought I’d been stood up was all, I looked across and they were all grinning in my direction. The nosey bastards, I’d been duped; they thought I was a loser and it hadn’t even dawned on me that I might look like one, even become one. So I guess the moral of the story is, if you’re out on a Valentine’s date and you’ve got a bit of a wait, either hide away your paraphernalia, or get there on time, oh, and keep your libido in check.

Smile

As long as you do your best, that's all you can ever do, then if it all goes wrong it isn't your fault, it's just the way it is.

Nobody Knows You Better Than Yourself

For years I thought I wasn't practical, because that's what they told me, then I tried something practical.

Jumper

Last night me and everybody else walked past a rather sorry looking homeless man in our thousands on the commute home past the NCP on Oxford Road, I heard him say, 'Not one soul has stopped. The shitty reality of humanity.' 1 hour later somebody had jumped off the very same NCP. I can't help thinking it was the same man. God rest that poor soul whoever it was.

No Longer Tapped

I gave up the news a few weeks ago to improve my well being, it worked, but when I do catch the odd second by accident I note it continues to be almost a bragging session of death and destruction, surely hearing that everyday whilst being powerless to do very much about it must cause desensitisation, but then I accept we need to hear it, provided it's true, but I have to say sticking your head in the sand for a bit really cheers the soul.