Monday, May 29, 2006

Long time, no see.

You walk down the street of a place where you haven't been for awhile. A lot has changed, new shops have opened and items that were there now aren't. It's been along time since you graced the town where you grew up, going to University in a town far away has meant you can't allways make it back as often as you'd like.

There are reasons to come back and reasons not to:

The reasons to come back are simple and delightful, to see your family, to see old pals and to trigger great memories. The reasons not to are that the town where you grew up has become chav central and a hotspot for young people with nothing better to do than to sit on the floors of the local shopping centre in groups, intimidating shoppers and passers by. Thankfully the latter only happens at certain times of day, so it's not that bad.

Another reason not to go back is that you, as a person have changed, you are no longer the same person who left the town many months ago. You've had to deal with criminals, drunk people, students with nothing better to do than cause trouble. Having to deal with all the above has made you a tad more skeptical than you were when you left and also more sarcastic.

But that all changed when something happened, it was like a lightbulb came on in your head. You were standing at the checkout of a stationary store, you glanced to your left and you saw a beautiful sight, a sight you haven't seen for months, a sight that you could never get enough of, her name is Sophie. You go over to her, start chatting, talking about how she is doing, her life and how she's grown up too, she's got responsibilities. She's only sixteen and she manages to hold down a job, she manages to be mature enough to have a conversation with you and make eye contact. Not many girls at her age can do that, she's got a gift, to you she is unique.

You once watched a TV Show, in it was a man who once said:

'Even when there is dark all around, you can always find something that will make you smile.'

Thursday, May 18, 2006

You've been cheated.

You wake up one afternoon and come to your senses. The bank you have been with for the past five years is a good bank, it's a well known bank, but their interest rates are to put it mildly, low. When your money is paid in it usually sits in that account and collects interest, to the tune of three pence, or less, it depends on whether or not the bank can do maths. You never took the time to manage your money and you never looked at different accounts, you just walked into a bank, opened an account and left it at that. What's the point in sitting in a stuffy office for an hour just to be told: 'Here's some leaflets, take your time and phone this 090 number.'

Recently you have been informed by a source that a certain bank has an account which you could open and have you student loan transferred into. It is a high interest account, tax free gross and the bank that offer this account are well known and reliable. Sounds to good to be true, right? So you decide, on this information that you will go into the bank and make some enquiries.

You walk through the town centre, admiring the beautiful female talent (or lack there of). What ever happened to inovation the creation of female orientated weather? There is no hope.

You speak to a member of staff and take a seat, getting bored very quickly your mind starts to wander. It wanders to the middle aged (about 40) woman, who, to put it midly is quite attractive, she's sitting in her chair at a computer and talking with someone. She deals with the customer and then sees her out. As she arises from her chair and walks away from you, you notice something. Her backside seems to have been sculptured by God himself, either that or you're seeing things and in a dream world. You would have gone and spoken to her, worked your charm and at least had a go at taking her on, if only you hadn't been called into the next office to do your banking business. You've been cheated, you are a victim of circumstance and you feel a little dissapointed.

You are given all the details and you open the account, lovely. You'll give it a try, all this managing money and banking online makes you a little skeptical, but new ways, new days, right?

As you exit the office the middle aged woman with the fantastic backside is stood across from you, she's talking to a man so you move on and walk out of the bank. You'll be back, ready for her, ready to charm her and take her into your arms......if only Judy Tsuke worked on every woman, your charm kit would consist of a CD and a bottle of wine, if only.

Friday, May 12, 2006

A Volunteer, a Special Constable, murdered by scum.

You're stood at the counter in your local supermarket and you take alook at that monitor above your head and you see this text: 'Partime Police woman murdered on her own doorstep.' You say to yourself 'bloody hell' and you tell your father, who knows only too well the dangers of the streets and violence in this world. You know it was going to happen sooner or later, but you wished it wouldn't. Seeing and hearing about good people dieing is hard enough, but this is even harder.

This Police Woman, this example to you all has been killed, as details are sketchy you have no idea whether or not she was intervening in a crime, as of yet. But that doesn't matter, she was a woman who gave up her free time to Police the streets so you could live in relative safety.

May the bastard, the coward, the useless lump of crap who did this to her be swiftly caught and put into a cold, dark place, for the rest of time.

Special Constable Nisha Patel Nasri, Rest In Peace.