The Witching Hour Vol. 1
‘The Witching Hour’ Series will become a set of rants that I’m going to document on here. There will be no structure to these posts, or necessary themes, I envision them being a brain dump of anything I feel is vital to rant about at a certain point in time.
So, without further ado, here is my first pure ranting blog – Volume 1 of The Witching Hour.
*Take these rants with a pinch of salt. As aggy as I may seem, I tend to get a bit carried away sometimes… some people call it dramatic, I prefer passionate.*
Just when I thought my life was on the up (I’d got over my vertigo, travelled back to civilisation in London, was on the way to get my nails done)… there I am, peacefully cruising down an East London side street, window down, DJ Russke mix blasting out, Shea in the passanger seat… the sun was shining and I was feeling positive about life.
There were a few cyclists on peddle bikes so naturally I went to overtake them. Suddenly, a loud click was heard… Shea and I looked at each other, ‘what was that?’ We couldn’t see anything so ignored it. Anyway, skip forward a few hours, nails done, car freshly washed, we pull up at my apartment block. Shea exclaims ‘El, what’s that crack going up your window screen??’
Bearing in mind, I’ve only had my brand new car for two weeks. TWO WHOLE WEEKS. And NOW… because of some cyclists flicking a stone onto my windscreen, the whole fucking thing needs to be replaced. Fuck off cyclist. Fuck off diversion (if the diversion hadn’t of been there I wouldn’t have been confronted by said stone on my windscreen). Fuck off stone.
Olympic Park Ice Creams:
Shea and I were taking a casual stroll through the Olympic park today. As we passed the ice cream kiosk, we thought to ourselves, let’s get an ice cream to celebrate such a nice day (bearing in mind we had early passed a corner shop that sold ice creams, but we thought no, let’s wait – error). I rock up to the kiosk, and am slapped in the face by a picture of a cornetto with the label £2.80 next to it.
SORRY. A whole two pound and eighty pence. Let me just get me cheque book out. Nah – and I’m not fussed because I’m cheap, £2.80 isn’t going to break my bank – but are you having a laugh. For a cornetto which I could get for £1.00 at the corner shop. Why is your Cornetto worth nearly three times more?? Does it come gift wrapped? Does it come with twice as much chocolate at the bottom of the cone??? – I have so many questions that need answering before I pass over my dollar.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse. I thought, let me give them the benefit of the doubt and check how much a Calippo is. An orange Calippo, standard Ice Lolly, nothing special – I don’t even particularly like them that much. Guess how much…
I have no words. Unless the oranges were freshly squeezed into the lolly. Even then I wouldn’t want it out of principle.
Couples on the Olympic Park:
(I’m sat in the Olympic Park whilst writing this – so I’m just ranting to my surroundings).
If you’ve had me on Snapchat for a while then you would’ve heard me rant about this in the past around this time of year. As soon as a little bit of sun comes out… so do the couples.
All couples are welcome and do seem to take advantage of the open space, and also the hidden spaces. They are typically/ all teenagers. I understand that it is a nice area, a nice park, a nice place to go when it’s sunny. However, when I have to weave in and out of couples lying on top of each other on the grass like no one else exists on my 5 minute walk across the park to get to the gym – it is not only awkward but quite frankly annoying.
I fully appreciate that when you are younger, as a couple there isn’t many places to go when you live with your parents but it is purely the vast number of the couples!!! I might just stroll across the park one day and tally the number of couples spotted to emphasise just how many there are!!
My solution to the problem would be to have a section of the park dedicated to couples so that they can do their thing in a contained environment that doesn’t disrupt everyone else’s day.
Prams in Shopping Centres:
One of my pet hates.
Let me say my peace first on this topic. I appreciate that people work during the week and therefore the weekend may be the only time that they have to get their shopping done, and also spend time with their children. So please don’t hate on me for this one – because I’ve fully acknowledged this factor.
HOWEVER. Westfield Stratford, Saturday – it’s fucking busy. I’m just trying to get from one shop to the other to get my shopping done as quickly as possible and get out of here. What does not help in the slightest is constantly having to weave in and out of prams that have either stopped in the middle of everyone’s walkway or are going at about 1mph acting as a barrier for everyone trying to walk past.
To make matters worse – has anyone else ever been scuffed in the back of the heel by a pram driver who is walking too closely behind? THE PAINNNNNNNNNN! This has happened to me a number of times and it really frustrates me because it’s like – when I’m walking behind you I’m being held up, however when I’m walking in front of a pram its right up my arse -_- .
My solution would to be having two different walk ways in shopping centres. One for free walkers and one for prams. That way everyone gets to do their shopping, and the traffic of the shopping centre is regulated. And no scuffed heels. Happy Days.
So yeah, basically, this was my first proper rant blog. The first in the Witching Hour series. Had to get a few bits off of my chest.
If anyone else has any pet peeves that they would like me to touch upon/ elaborate on then please contact me and let me know!!
Ciao for now – Elz, The Witch.