Saturday, 16 February 2008

Oh No, Not Another Bloody Repeat


Sorry, too busy to post at the moment so rather cheekily, I am recycling an old post from when you didn't know me, way back last summer, in the hopes that you are not one of the two people who read it the first time.


Shit Happens:

Well, have just come back from a quick trip into Birmingham City Centre to return most of the stuff I bought last week whilst on a shopping trip with my daughter. It's all her fault. She eggs me on. I think it's because she doesn't like the thought of me getting old, so she encourages me to buy clothes which aren't really suitable and a bit too young for me. Either that or she's planning to raid my wardrobe sometime soon.

Anyway, we nearly didn't go because I was worried about the heightened security alert we've all been under since last week's scarey terrapin* episodes in London and Scotland, but my husband (whose message is "bollocks to that, I'm going") taunted me with an offer of lunch at Selfridges Noodle Bar which I considered to be worth the risk so off we went with me still a bit nervy. He gave me a pep talk all the way into town about how we mustn't be intimidated or be frightened to live our lives because some people were trying to force their views upon us, etc., etc., and that I was more likely to be hit by something dropping out of the sky than be blown up whilst shopping, and so on (and on). Lecture over, he dropped me off at the back of Rackhams (please note, if you are from Birmingham, this does not mean that I am a prostitute) and went to park the car, so I walked through the sunny Cathedral square, picking my way carefully through the two million pigeons who have squatters' rights there.

What is it with pigeons? Why do they wait for you to politely skirt around them, then suddenly fly up into your face all feathers and flutter? I hate the bloody things. The feeling is obviously mutual because today one actually pooped on me - although judging by the huge acrid dollops that hit me this could well have been a case of formation-pooping by the pigeon tribute version of the Red Arrows. Yes, something actually did fall out of the sky and it definitely wasn't a bit of space debris.

If you've never been crapped on by a pigeon, I can honestly not recommend it - it reeks. It's hot, acidic and burns like hell. You feel so stupid with pigeon-shit highlights and a liquid brown handbag charm when only one minute earlier you thought you looked quite good, actually. No amount of Chanel Number 5 is going to hide this stench. You just know your rope-soled suede wedges are going to be a bugger to clean. It also tends to put a dampener on your enjoyment of beef in blackbean sauce at the Noodle Bar although I can guarantee you'll definitely get an empty seat beside yours where you can put your coat.

Am off to wash my hair, clothes, shoes and bag now so must dash. There must be a moral to this story somewhere though for the life of me at the moment can't think of what it is.


*not using the proper word in case I set off a bloody great hooter at the Anti-Terrapin HQ or something.

20 comments:

Sweet Irene said...

It may be an old post, but it was new to me and quite hilarious, although I did pity you for being pooped upon by one or more pigeons, which I agree are vile creatures and do not belong in any city scene.

I would have liked to have heard more about the actual shopping expedition, you know, about the crowds and the hustle and bustle and the crowded changing rooms and the clothes bought and/or returned, but maybe there is a second post in which you will enlighten us about that.

Shopping with offspring can indeed result in buying all the wrong clothes, depending on the age of the offspring. When they get to be in their 30's, they become quite realistic, but by that time you don't need advice anymore, as you have developed your own independent taste.

If they are teenagers, it can't be done, as they will have you look like Madonna in her early days, except with an older face on top, and you turn out quite ridiculous looking.

The safest bet is to shop on your own and to go strictly by your instincts, which will never point you in the wrong direction. By all means, don't bring a husband, as they will say yes to anything, even if it looks absolutely horrible.

Swearing Mother said...

Hi Irene, yes maybe I'll do a shopping post, it's something I've got a lot of experience in!

Thanks for visiting. Best wishes.

Manic Mother Of Five said...

Do remember this but still feel as passionately about pigeons now as I did then. They are nothing more than flying rats and should be treated as vermin. Bloody things - they scare me silly and such is the depth of my fear, my boys have taken to walking in front of me when we are in HPPP (highly populated pigeon places) to sweep the area "clean". Bloody, bloody things....

Am intrigued to know what is keeping you away from us......

MMoF xxx

Valleys Mam said...

Selfridges in Brum, love that food hall, but omg can you rack up a bill.Well you can if your as greedy as me.I think I must have denial when it comes to how much i actually have in the bank!

Tina said...

I love this post now & loved it the 1st time. God, there's a lot of pigeons in Birmingham. But not so much business at the back of Rackhams nowadays.

Or so I believe.

menopausaloldbag (MOB) said...

Great post - not sure what I think about pigeons but never been pooped on by one of them yet. I think I would have sat down and cried!

belle said...

Slightly worried that both you and Tina both know what goes on at the back of Rackhams ... it's 'cos I'm so posh, isn't it? Sheltered and naive, that's me ;o)

Tina said...

Swearing Mother, may I make so bold as to offer you a suggestion? Well, I'm going to risk it anyway. We all know you have an immense amount of writing talent, and that you want to write more, so why don't you go here and have a look?

http://peacharse.blogspot.com/

I shall leave it to you of course. But I shall kick your arse round Selfridges if you're not doing something about getting into print.

And I shall kick their arse harder if they don't publish.

Lots of love,
Tina
xxx

Maggie May said...

As someone who has been pooped on by pigeons more than once & one time splashed over my head, I can feel for you. Can't say I hate them but they are a nuisance. Not as bad as seagulls who really are spiteful & sometimes snatch food. Seagull poop is horrid too. Fishy. Your post was hilarious! I loved it!

Swearing Mother said...

MMOF Hi chick, think I've lost my mojo, or something like that. Looking at past posts I realised I've become really boring of late, so wondering whether it's time to blog-off for a while, to be honest.

Valleys Mam, you are quite correct. The food looks great but the price is enough to stick in your throat!

Tina: No, things definitely ain't what they used to be at the back of Racks since it became House of Fraser.

Will have a look at peacharse (what a lovely name). Ta for the tip. x

Hiya MOB! It was a bit of a challenge trying to remain cheerful, I can tell you. But it gave everyone else a laugh.

Belle darling, you are far too posh to know about back of Racks activity. In fact, I expect you are so posh that you were able to use the Cardholder toilets on the 6th floor while the rest of us peasants had to pay a quid.

Hello Maggie May, I have a thing about seagulls too, why can't they get their own lunch and leave mine alone?

Swearing Mother said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Norman said...

Love the pic of a pigeon updating its crapping technique.
Here in Lancaster they are classified as feathered rats so much so that our City Fathers have passed a by-law making it an offence to feed the b****rs.

When I was a [motor] biker we used to have a motto "Shit Happens". It helped us to feel better when things went wrong.

Have you ever been to St. Ives in Cornwall? Its not pigeons, its seagulls with the malevolent tendency to re-enact a WW2 bombing raid with uncanny accuracy.

CrazyCath said...

You don't have to go as far as St. Ives. Try Blackpool, or worse, Fleetwood and Cleveleys. The seagulls there are MASSIVE (I'm sure they are mutants), and they are intelligent - they watch, wait and pick on some one vulnerable (child, OAP, some one with a wheelchair) - it's true!

I got pooped on by one at Cleveleys and you're quite right about the stench and that feeling of never getting quite clean and wanting a bath in domestos. Dirty things.

Vicious up that way too.

debio said...

Loved this post, sm. Hadn't read it first time round.

I so hate pigeons and I hate seagulls too. Why have both species developed a liking for fast-food? Only humans should have developed a liking for such crap - the animal world should be living on their instinct and catching fish or eating whatever pigeons are designed to eat....

Maggie May said...

You boring! Never! You were one of the first people to inspire me when I first set off on this blogging nonsense!

Swearing Mother said...

Norman, I just love the idea of you being a biker, especially as I spent part (the part my mother didn't know about) of my mis-spent youth on the back of a Triumph Bonneville. Ha!

Hi Cath, know what you mean, they're like flying waste disposal units. Yeuk.

Debio, all I can say is thank goodness cows can't fly.

Hello Maggie May, you are so kind. Love your blog BTW.

the mother of this lot said...

It may be an old post, but definitely one worth repeating. Loved it. Can't abide 'blogspeak' normally, but I really did LOL!

Thanks for visiting, by the way. (or should that be BTW...)

Swearing Mother said...

Glad you liked it TMOTL. Just doing a bit of recyling.

IsobelBuchan said...

I laughed at the back of Rackhams comment. I don't think it has been used that way since I were a lass but everyone knows what you mean when you mention it. Wonderful.

Swearing Mother said...

Hi Isobel, yes it's a well known Brummie-ism, isn't it? The thing is, I never ever saw anyone at the back of Rackhams who looked even remotely professional, if you know what I mean. Was it all a mythe I wonder?