A taste of my "old life" - The view from my bedroom on Tuesday 17th July 2007 at 12.29 pm.
Saturday, 21st July 2007 12.29 pm...what was in front of my eyes just yesterday...38°c..sunshine...the beach...crystal clear waters...ahhh!
Yes, ladies and gentlemen! Having tried pretty much everything in life, I am proud to announce you that today I have had my first ever taste of MUSHY PEAS! I used to think I'd reached an all times low with "fish 'n' chips, shocked myself enough with Scottish Haggis, proven my point by eating Croccodille meat, experienced a true 'taste-sensation' with beans on toast, but no, oh no: there behold -lunch time on a gloomy and rainy day I was sitting in a traditional chippy in Manchester city centre with a pot of tea and plate full of fish 'n' chips and mushy peas with buttered white bread...(I am really praying Matt will never find out about today's lunch..doh!)
Nosing about a number of other blogs, I have noticed that a few of us have been having issues of anger recently. Alongside that, I have also discovered that the lovely Mrs Heasely used to be an "anger management therapist". Ever since I moved to England, I am a changed woman. My friends and neighbours may tell you different, but I truly believe I've come a long way from my fiery, quick-tempered days. Maybe it's got something with God shaping my character, maybe it's all about maturing, growing up, or possibly I have acquired something of that beautiful "English phlegm" as the Italians call it.. together with that, however, I also seem to have acquired an irresistible urge to complain about everything wrong and stump my feet at injustice. Prime example of this is yesterday. I rang up my bank about a week ago to make an appointment with the bank manager to discuss the arrangements related to closing my account when I am gone. 1 o'clock pm on Tuesday 12th June, we established. So at 12.50, I am there, firmly determined not to be late. I cue up at the custumer service desk to be announced to the manager I had an appointment with. The custumer service fresh-faced young lad looked at me blank and politely gave me the same answer he had been giving everyone: "Please take a sit, a customer advisor will be with you shortly". First of all, I had made an appointment so tha
t I wouldn't have to wait together with all the 18 year old foreign students who have only just landed at Manchester airport, hungry, inexperienced, jet-legged and not very fluent in English as the alleged thick Mancunian blond prison-warden-like bank manager bosses them about shouting at them louder and slower ('coz that way they will certainly understand better) ... together with all the old ladies with thousands of penny coins to be counted .. I am sitting there, tapping my right foot on the lilac coloured dirty carpet, drumming my fingers on the table, starring in the empty space, turning my head a heck of a lot, puffing a lot, pulling weird faces and throwing angry looks at every customer that goes before me.. after all, I had booked an appointment!!!! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!! Getting up off the chair, walking up and down, cuing up again to speak to the same clueless guy who gives me the same answer again, 5 minutes, 10 minutes, I am going insane, 12 minutes, 20 minutes, my temperature is raising, I can feel it, raaaahhh. 21 minutes later the manager calls me in to then leave me with the only person who knows what she is talking about in that branch - an unassuming young customer advisor who has always impressed me for her humble professionalism. I am out in 3 minutes. She tells me what to do and I am happy again. I suddenly don't feel like killing the patronising blond manager anymore. Does this make me a rage-aholic?
