Since I came back to London on Thursday, I have barely been still for a minute! Each day I’ve been roaming around either trying to sort out stuff for next week or I’ve been in the library with Tristan trying to get some work done. Then every evening I’ve been meeting up with various friends to catch up on important gossip. Thursday – Joanna, Friday – Patricia and Saturday – Esther and co!
So today, Sunday, I’ve spent the whole afternoon in my sofa with endless cups of tea, playing Killer Sudoku, listening to piano music while the rain has gently been drizzling on my window. It’s sometimes hard to understand how something so simple can suddenly become a little piece of heaven! It’s like wrapping your soul up into a giant cashmere blanket and serving it honey and grapes! You’re charging your batteries.
But my spiritual haven was abruptly interrupted when the phone rang in the middle of my Sudoku.
Ok, hang on here for a minute. There’s something I feel I need to point out. When I’m saying “Sudoku” I’m not referring to the version where you simply have to check the numbers that have already been put into the grid for you in advance, to figure out which numbers the remaining empty spaces are supposed to contain. I’m talking about the ones with no numbers whatsoever, and your only clues are the total sums of various clusters within the grid itself. THAT is an addictive game! After you’ve started playing this, you’d never go back to normal Sudoku ever again. I laugh in the face of Sudoku after Killer Sudoku was invented (a few thousand years ago by some Tibetan monk…)
But, let’s try to move on!
So basically, there I was, pen in my hand, tea in my mouth, when my phone rang. I briefly considered not taking the call unless I was sure it would only concern either tea, Sudoku or piano music. Or rain, ok, fair enough – or rain! But it’s hard to get guarantees like these nowadays, so I took the call.
It was nothing wrong with the phone call per se, Patricia wanted to chat about her neighbours towels and quite obviously I found that incredibly interesting! But then she said:
- “You know that new law about getting a £50 fine for throwing cigarette butts in the street, that you believe exists…"
- “Err..the one that was all over the news for several days, yes.”
- “Yes, that’s the one. That no one else has heard of…"
- “The one that the police had put up posters about all over the city?”
- “Yes, that one."
- “That was on the side of pretty much every single London bus for a month?”
- “Yes. I was talking to my friend and her boyfriend about it and, well, they claim you must have imagined it as well!”
This has got to be cleared up once and for all! Before I’m loosing my marbles! London went smoke free on the 1st of July this year, which means you’re no longer allowed to smoke in public places. This has happened in several countries already, so it didn’t really come as much of a chock. But what I did find somewhat surprising, was that it had also become illegal to throw cigarette butts in the street. You’re allowed to smoke in the street, but not put the cigarette out on the ground. You’re supposed to put it in a bin or an ashtray. There has been quite a substantial amount of money put into this and the police has employed people to function as undercover cigarette officers who, if they catch you, will flash their badges and demand a £50 fee. Yes, it’s a bit harsh, but nevertheless true. People don’t believe me.
Joanna is even worse (and even more illogical!)
- “Have you actually been fined yourself?”
- “No, but that’s mainly cos I haven’t thrown any butts on the ground.”
- “Hmm, so that means you can’t really say you know this to be true for sure, can you, since it hasn’t happened to you in person?”
- “Well, I saw it on the news! Several times! They even showed people with badges and gave numbers of how much money had been dedicated to this in every part of the town…”
- “Ahh, so you saw it on the telly, did you! Come on, you know you shouldn’t really believe everything you hear on TV!”
- “But it was on the BBC News! If the nation is being informed of a new legislation via the news – we should choose not to believe it’s for real? And the police, what about the police? What about the posters?!”
- “Advertising? Oh Evelyn, you really shouldn’t pay all that much attention to advertising…”
So today, Sunday, I’ve spent the whole afternoon in my sofa with endless cups of tea, playing Killer Sudoku, listening to piano music while the rain has gently been drizzling on my window. It’s sometimes hard to understand how something so simple can suddenly become a little piece of heaven! It’s like wrapping your soul up into a giant cashmere blanket and serving it honey and grapes! You’re charging your batteries.
But my spiritual haven was abruptly interrupted when the phone rang in the middle of my Sudoku.
Ok, hang on here for a minute. There’s something I feel I need to point out. When I’m saying “Sudoku” I’m not referring to the version where you simply have to check the numbers that have already been put into the grid for you in advance, to figure out which numbers the remaining empty spaces are supposed to contain. I’m talking about the ones with no numbers whatsoever, and your only clues are the total sums of various clusters within the grid itself. THAT is an addictive game! After you’ve started playing this, you’d never go back to normal Sudoku ever again. I laugh in the face of Sudoku after Killer Sudoku was invented (a few thousand years ago by some Tibetan monk…)
But, let’s try to move on!
So basically, there I was, pen in my hand, tea in my mouth, when my phone rang. I briefly considered not taking the call unless I was sure it would only concern either tea, Sudoku or piano music. Or rain, ok, fair enough – or rain! But it’s hard to get guarantees like these nowadays, so I took the call.
It was nothing wrong with the phone call per se, Patricia wanted to chat about her neighbours towels and quite obviously I found that incredibly interesting! But then she said:
- “You know that new law about getting a £50 fine for throwing cigarette butts in the street, that you believe exists…"
- “Err..the one that was all over the news for several days, yes.”
- “Yes, that’s the one. That no one else has heard of…"
- “The one that the police had put up posters about all over the city?”
- “Yes, that one."
- “That was on the side of pretty much every single London bus for a month?”
- “Yes. I was talking to my friend and her boyfriend about it and, well, they claim you must have imagined it as well!”
This has got to be cleared up once and for all! Before I’m loosing my marbles! London went smoke free on the 1st of July this year, which means you’re no longer allowed to smoke in public places. This has happened in several countries already, so it didn’t really come as much of a chock. But what I did find somewhat surprising, was that it had also become illegal to throw cigarette butts in the street. You’re allowed to smoke in the street, but not put the cigarette out on the ground. You’re supposed to put it in a bin or an ashtray. There has been quite a substantial amount of money put into this and the police has employed people to function as undercover cigarette officers who, if they catch you, will flash their badges and demand a £50 fee. Yes, it’s a bit harsh, but nevertheless true. People don’t believe me.
Joanna is even worse (and even more illogical!)
- “Have you actually been fined yourself?”
- “No, but that’s mainly cos I haven’t thrown any butts on the ground.”
- “Hmm, so that means you can’t really say you know this to be true for sure, can you, since it hasn’t happened to you in person?”
- “Well, I saw it on the news! Several times! They even showed people with badges and gave numbers of how much money had been dedicated to this in every part of the town…”
- “Ahh, so you saw it on the telly, did you! Come on, you know you shouldn’t really believe everything you hear on TV!”
- “But it was on the BBC News! If the nation is being informed of a new legislation via the news – we should choose not to believe it’s for real? And the police, what about the police? What about the posters?!”
- “Advertising? Oh Evelyn, you really shouldn’t pay all that much attention to advertising…”
- ”Made by the police!!!”
I mean, I haven’t personally been charged with attempted murder either, but I’m still fairly suspicious it could be somewhat illegal to commit one!
But I’m really looking forward to the next time me and Joanna are in the airport. Joanna is always worried that we will have to much luggage and claims they will force us to rearrange our stuff and pay loads of fines even if we’re only a couple of kilos over the limit. The next time I’ll pretend I’ve got much more than I actually have and insist on her letting me put some of it in her luggage. When she starts fretting about the limit I’ll just ask her:
- “Honestly, how do you know for sure that there even is a limit?”
- “Well, they send out this email with information about baggage allowance and…”
- “Ohh, Joanna Joanna…”(here I’ll shake my head in a patient but yet nonnegotiable way) “Please don’t tell me you believe everything spam is telling you…”
- “But it says on that poster over there…!”
- “You mean the advert?” “Let me just ask you this – have you actually ever been fined for you luggage yourself? I thought not. Now, be a good friend and let me put a few of my books, portable TV and 7 kilo DIY tool box in your luggage. If you would just step over here, please…”
PS. Talking of smoking… When I was in Copenhagen a week and a half ago I saw a “No Smoking” sign in the central station. It was in one of the corners with arrows pointing at a designated area of about a few meters! I couldn’t believe my eyes! I thought it would be forbidden to smoke in virtually every train station in Northern Europe by now, but clearly not. But if that little square is all you get as a non-smoker, well, then what’s the point? There’s not even a bench. Even less a screen telling you which platform your train is supposed to leave from. Or showing the time… Would be fun to let the British undercover fag cops loose in there!
I mean, I haven’t personally been charged with attempted murder either, but I’m still fairly suspicious it could be somewhat illegal to commit one!
But I’m really looking forward to the next time me and Joanna are in the airport. Joanna is always worried that we will have to much luggage and claims they will force us to rearrange our stuff and pay loads of fines even if we’re only a couple of kilos over the limit. The next time I’ll pretend I’ve got much more than I actually have and insist on her letting me put some of it in her luggage. When she starts fretting about the limit I’ll just ask her:
- “Honestly, how do you know for sure that there even is a limit?”
- “Well, they send out this email with information about baggage allowance and…”
- “Ohh, Joanna Joanna…”(here I’ll shake my head in a patient but yet nonnegotiable way) “Please don’t tell me you believe everything spam is telling you…”
- “But it says on that poster over there…!”
- “You mean the advert?” “Let me just ask you this – have you actually ever been fined for you luggage yourself? I thought not. Now, be a good friend and let me put a few of my books, portable TV and 7 kilo DIY tool box in your luggage. If you would just step over here, please…”
PS. Talking of smoking… When I was in Copenhagen a week and a half ago I saw a “No Smoking” sign in the central station. It was in one of the corners with arrows pointing at a designated area of about a few meters! I couldn’t believe my eyes! I thought it would be forbidden to smoke in virtually every train station in Northern Europe by now, but clearly not. But if that little square is all you get as a non-smoker, well, then what’s the point? There’s not even a bench. Even less a screen telling you which platform your train is supposed to leave from. Or showing the time… Would be fun to let the British undercover fag cops loose in there!
SP_A1347.JPG)
No comments:
Post a Comment