One of Those Days...

Everything's a bit shit, isn't it. Don't worry, it hasn't taken me this long to work that out, but it seems to be one of those days where it applies more than usual. Now, this is nothing to do with the fact that it's St. David's Day, actually that's one of the day's redeeming features, I've just had a day where things have angered me more than usual.

Today I was in Bath. I made my way to Westbury station to buy a train ticket from an unhappy looking man to wait on a platform with various other unhappy looking people to get on a train filled with yet more unhappy looking people. That's what public transport does, nothing new there, but it very much set the tone for the day. The first straw came in HMV where I nearly shouted at a man for walking down the middle of the staircase. Now this may sound seemingly inocuous, however I was at the bottom of the staicase, attempting to get up it. He could see this and yet he actively attempted to stay in the very middle, leaving no room for passing on either side. Shocked and disheartened by his lack of consideration for others, I did what real British men do- I sighed very loudly and mumbled something to the effect of "some people, tch" before clomping noisily up the steps.

Strike number 2 came when I had an argument with a toilet seat. It was a wooden one, maybe pine (I'm not an expert on wood types) and it was one of those ones which refused to stay upright, meaning that I had to hold onto it all the while. What kind of arsehole would design a toilet seat that doesn't stay upright? It defies logic. A man's peeing ability is severly hampered if he has to focus on holding up a toilet seat at the same time.

I had time to mull over these events back at the station, where I watched a pigeon being chased by a woman. Ok, pigeons are often hate-figures, but they can fly and generally go about things with feathery dignity. I'm not sure what right we have to bother them, we are basically just apes in suits. My train of existentialist thought was ironically interrupted by my actual train arriving and I boarded to find a man heading up the aisles litter-picking. Litter-picking! That's what they made us do in school as a punishment, this was his actual job. I had a good mind to go up to him and declare "on behalf of the human race, I'm really sorry about how this has all turned out" but thought better of it... eventually.

Strike 3 was when I came home to find that this had happened. So that's a hat-trick of minor niggles that have burrowed into the angry centre of my brain. Normally this would all be fine- just little inconveniences- but today they have been elevated to the state of massive injustices against myself and my fellow humans.

As I say this has nothing to do with St. David's Day, I was in the Millennium Stadium on Friday being as Welsh as possible and on my feet applauding Shane Williams for that try. That said, a row full of cougars in front of me did try and ruin my (and all the proper rugby fans with me's) enjoyment of the game, by talking, drinking and generally getting in the way. If they just wanted to get pissed and talk about things that weren't really appropriate for the situation they could have done that in a cafe or another of those Sex and the City type places. The night was redeemed by the banter between us and the most French man in the world, who was seated across the aisle. In full beret and moustache, he was incredibly drunk, waving his tricoleur triumphantly and generally being very amusing, so if that's you (probably not) then kudos, sir.

On the plus side, I did walk past Danny Grewcock today and gave him a nod and a smile, as if to say "you're quite good at the old rugby, aren't you".