Postcards from the edge
Sep. 10th, 2005 06:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zoetropeWell, that was interesting.
I've spent the last month incommunicado, after becoming trapped in the cargo hold of a freight ship bound for Sri Lanka. After an amusing series of misadventures I managed to hitch my way back, through India, Pakistan, Iran and, er, some other countries too many and varied to remember. I can't possibly begin to tell you the amazing, hilarious and sometimes poignant stories of what happened to me along the way. Perhaps some day I shall write my memoirs.*
Anyway, now I'm back, and so I present to you:
The Chronicles of Mania
A vaguely amusing story that might interest you, or might not.
My mother is obsessed with her latest fashion purchase and every-woman-must-have: her gypsy skirt. She wears it rather a lot. It has, as do most of these skirts, an elasticated waist. These are all pertinent points that will be explained later in the story.
One Wednesday she arrived at work in her little Ford Focus, pulling into her parking space, switching off the engine, getting her things together. The usual stuff.
However, when she tried to release the car door, it wouldn't open. She jiggled the handle, she tugged on it, she pushed, pulled and, yes, checked the locks. No joy. The other door wouldn't open either. She realised she was, in fact, trapped in her car! (Remember that TV programme 999? This could so totally have been on that programme.**)
She sat there for a moment pondering the problem. Then, as she was about to climb out of the window, she saw redemption in the form of a co-worker.
"Hello!" she said, waving wildly.
Said co-worker trotted over.
"I'm stuck!" said Mother. "Can you try opening the door from the outside?"
He pulled the handle and, open sesame, the door released. Mother realised it must be a problem with the lock that would only open from the outside. "Oh, thanks!" she said. Co-worker happily trotted into the building, presumably imagining his moment of glory appearing, reinacted, on 999 (or 888, as I orignially mis-typed. The less alarming version.)
This is where the story gets a little hazy, presumably because my mother did as well. She must have been distracted by something. She does rather like shiny objects. Personally, I suspect Radio 4 was the culprit. So, distracted, she shifted around, packed up her things, put her phone away, something like that, and closed the sodding car door again.
Oops, she thought - right back where she started.
She looked around. The car park was completely empty. Tumbleweed drifted past.
Damn, she realised, I'm going to have to climb out the window after all.
It was then she discovered that, to add to her predicament, her delightfully trendy gypsy skirt had, in fact, become trapped in the door as well.
Mother envisioned climbing out of her skirt and out of the car window in nothing but her cardie and knickers - and possibly tights, too, just to round out the picture - and balked.
What would she do next?! Would she show her Marks and Sparks underwear to the nation? Would she develop super-strength and pry the door off with her bare hands? Would another kindly soul arrive and save the day?
Tune in next time![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
zoetrope has insomia to find out!
*All lies. Some deviations from the truth inserted to maintain high interest level of content.
** Oh, shut up.
Some other time I'll tell you about how, the day before, she set off a bomb alert in our local department store.
And now, picspam.
From Waterloo Bridge:
The river:
St. Pauls, 2pm:
Tate Modern:
The South Bank at lunch:
I've spent the last month incommunicado, after becoming trapped in the cargo hold of a freight ship bound for Sri Lanka. After an amusing series of misadventures I managed to hitch my way back, through India, Pakistan, Iran and, er, some other countries too many and varied to remember. I can't possibly begin to tell you the amazing, hilarious and sometimes poignant stories of what happened to me along the way. Perhaps some day I shall write my memoirs.*
Anyway, now I'm back, and so I present to you:
The Chronicles of Mania
A vaguely amusing story that might interest you, or might not.
My mother is obsessed with her latest fashion purchase and every-woman-must-have: her gypsy skirt. She wears it rather a lot. It has, as do most of these skirts, an elasticated waist. These are all pertinent points that will be explained later in the story.
One Wednesday she arrived at work in her little Ford Focus, pulling into her parking space, switching off the engine, getting her things together. The usual stuff.
However, when she tried to release the car door, it wouldn't open. She jiggled the handle, she tugged on it, she pushed, pulled and, yes, checked the locks. No joy. The other door wouldn't open either. She realised she was, in fact, trapped in her car! (Remember that TV programme 999? This could so totally have been on that programme.**)
She sat there for a moment pondering the problem. Then, as she was about to climb out of the window, she saw redemption in the form of a co-worker.
"Hello!" she said, waving wildly.
Said co-worker trotted over.
"I'm stuck!" said Mother. "Can you try opening the door from the outside?"
He pulled the handle and, open sesame, the door released. Mother realised it must be a problem with the lock that would only open from the outside. "Oh, thanks!" she said. Co-worker happily trotted into the building, presumably imagining his moment of glory appearing, reinacted, on 999 (or 888, as I orignially mis-typed. The less alarming version.)
This is where the story gets a little hazy, presumably because my mother did as well. She must have been distracted by something. She does rather like shiny objects. Personally, I suspect Radio 4 was the culprit. So, distracted, she shifted around, packed up her things, put her phone away, something like that, and closed the sodding car door again.
Oops, she thought - right back where she started.
She looked around. The car park was completely empty. Tumbleweed drifted past.
Damn, she realised, I'm going to have to climb out the window after all.
It was then she discovered that, to add to her predicament, her delightfully trendy gypsy skirt had, in fact, become trapped in the door as well.
Mother envisioned climbing out of her skirt and out of the car window in nothing but her cardie and knickers - and possibly tights, too, just to round out the picture - and balked.
What would she do next?! Would she show her Marks and Sparks underwear to the nation? Would she develop super-strength and pry the door off with her bare hands? Would another kindly soul arrive and save the day?
Tune in next time
zoetrope has insomia to find out!*
** Oh, shut up.
Some other time I'll tell you about how, the day before, she set off a bomb alert in our local department store.
And now, picspam.
From Waterloo Bridge:
The river:
St. Pauls, 2pm:
Tate Modern:
The South Bank at lunch:
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-09-10 09:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-12 05:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-10 07:18 pm (UTC)I look forward to the next instalment :)
no subject
Date: 2005-09-12 05:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-10 10:06 pm (UTC)Um, couldn't your mother have wound down the window and reached through to unlock the door from the outside?
no subject
Date: 2005-09-12 05:22 pm (UTC)I'm *assuming* she tried that and it didn't work - but you never can tell *g*
no subject
Date: 2005-09-10 10:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-12 05:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-11 02:54 am (UTC)that being said, the story about your mom cracked me up. omg. too funny. (but again, dude, are you ok??)
no subject
Date: 2005-09-12 05:24 pm (UTC)Didn't think anyone would notice I was gone!!
Yeah I'm fine, rather exhausted and currently suffering from a cold, but it's all this evil job really. Long long hours.
Only six weeks left to go though!