The first of many lists

Things I love about train travel:

1) The romanticism of it
2) The building excitement as you reach your destination (in this case an amazing gig)
3) The person sat a few seats away from you who you fall in love with, despite the fact that you never speak to them, only to find to your dismay that they aren't alighting at your station.
4) Children who find the whole concept of train travel fascinating (in an adorable way)
 
Things I hate about train travel:


1) Switching trains
2) Delays
3) The obligatory mad person (on the outward journey she sat telling whichever unfortunate person it was on the other end of the phone that she is in fact normal.  The fact that she had to clarify this  made me suspicious.  On the return journey he ate an entire fresh pineapple using a penknife.)
4) The person sat a few seats away from you who you fall in love with, despite the fact that you never speak to them, only to find to your dismay that they aren't alighting at your station.
5) Children who find the whole concept of train travel fascinating (in an annoying way)
6) Judgmental passengers (it was the effects of caffeine and nothing stronger)

...I am aware of the irony - Rosencrantz

All you need is a vocabulary.

Please imagine the annoying accent yourself.

I was subject to the following conversation:

Chav:  EMO! EMO! 


Me (Rosencrantz): Excuse me?


Chav:  Where's all your friends Emo?

Me: I think you will find referring to me as an Emo is a faulty syllogism.  What you appear to have done is taken two unrelated pieces of information, possibly but not necessarily, the fact that I have a relatively long black coat and that I don't appear to be wearing a cap at a jaunty angle and reached the incorrect conclusion that I must be an Emo.


Chav (with a blank expression):  What are you on drugs or something?


Me:  No I'm on an education.  Toodle pip. 

I have an addiction to Coke

I suppose the first step is admitting you have a problem.

Rosencrantz

I respect my elders because apparently they have superpowers

I really do love living in the West Country of Great Britain. On the day of the autumn heat wave the local news informed us that the snow gritters have been put on standby. Also the news reader said "... the South West suffers from more extreme weather like floods and heat waves. This is due to the elderly." That is what the news reader actually said, I think she might have been confused. I believe she might have meant the elderly suffer from the extreme heat waves not that they cause heat waves.
- Guildenstern

The Suey Decimal System

Chinese takeaways are well known for their numbering system, like the dewey decimal classification in libraries except you get food not books. Although my Dad did get a calender from our local takeaway once and I've still no idea why. So all the dishes are labelled as numbers, yes. From number 1 to how many dishes they have, yes. So it's simple when ordering, you just say a number. Then why on earth has my local got options 9 and 9a! Why go number every dish not to number every dish with a number of its own. Your ruining your own system. Numbers aren't like letters, you don't run out after the 26th. You have from 1 to the biggest number you can think of, an infinite number of numbers, why go back to being constricted by the 26 letters of the alphabet. However, I understand many places use this number option along with a letter option and it's normally done to options that are similar or only differ slightly. But not my local; option 34) Beef Chop Suey, option 34a) Chicken with Green Pepper and Black Bean Sauce! What!
Guildenstern

Feminism is fine until there's a heavy bucket

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-THE FOLLOWING POST IS THE OPINION OF ROSENCRANTZ AND MAY NOT COINCIDE WITH THE VIEWS OF THE COLLEAGUE- 

On the other hand it may as I didn't ask.

 I am a full supporter of feminism and wholeheartedly believe that women are just as capable as any man in any profession and in anything they chose to do and should be treated accordingly.  However, I will not suddenly become offended if a nice guy happens to offer to carry something for me or help me with something that in anyway resembles manual labour.  Perhaps I'm an enemy of the cause, perhaps I care far to much about the state of my nails and perhaps I am far to quick to declare myself a frail little girl or a damsel in distress when the bucket of disgusting water, leaking from what to me is the mystery pipe, under the sink needs to be emptied.  To me being offered this help is not sexism, this is chivalry.  What woman can honestly say that when something difficult and disgusting needs doing they would prefer to handle it themselves for some mistaken sense of pride than let that helpful fellow who lives down the street (or in my current case down the corridor) handle it.  For me it is enough to know that I could do whatever it is (probably) without having to go through the discomfort of actually having to do it.  And anyway, if you can use your womanly wiles to convince some poor unsuspecting man to do the gross stuff for you surely that makes you more in control and less of a victim... take that Germaine Greer.

Musicism

Well what are all the non-ravers meant to do?  Just grow beards!?

They're spats. I wear spats now. Spats are cool.

I'm not going to say I have too many pairs of shoes as, not only would that be physically impossible but that would also give far too much power to my father and brother, who seem to think three pairs is enough.  All they seem to require is a smart pair for work and other stuff which requires you to be both physically and mentally smart, a pair of trainers for the weekend and training (or if you are reading this in America a pair of sneakers for... sneaking?) and an optional posh pair for use with a suit and events which require you to pretend to be posh.   Now for some, perhaps even most men, I am sure this is enough.  However, for your average girl this is not enough.  What my male relatives don't seem to grasp is that girls don't buy shoes to match events, girls buy shoes to match outfits... which are initially purchased for an event.  As you can imagine this is what leads to a storage predicament.  Well I have the answer to all you shoe fanatics!  The answer is spats.  Spats are perhaps one of the greatest inventions.  Ever.  Perhaps storing the copious amounts of shoes necessary in daily life is just a girl problem, although in this world of the metro-sexual I can only assume it is a common issue which affects many men as well.  Now just take a moment to consider how much easier it would be to store varying amounts of cloth.  A spat can transform any pair of shoes instantly... well instantly once you have got the hang of putting them on.  This means the more spats you buy the more styles of shoes you have.
To conclude this is Rosencrantz instructing you never to be afraid of a good spat.

Please ignore the housekeeping

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I have a dream...

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Well strictly speaking that should be I had a dream... or even dream(s).  Recently I dreamt I was a contestant on 'Dancing on Ice' and throughout the live show was unable to keep my ice-skates on my feet.  To some this may seem comical but instead I awoke full of mind-numbing fear.  Perhaps I should have informed you that, apparently, I have a phobia of dancing in public and what is quite possibly more disturbing is that this dream was one of many.  Previous dreams have included my appearance on 'Strictly Come Dancing' and perhaps most spectacularly Guildenstern and myself performing the routine from the music video for OK Go's 'Here It Goes Again' on 'Let's Dance For Comic Relief'.  I have a feeling a fear such as this may make the forth coming freshers events, for a virtual teetotaler such as myself, into a representation of 'The Battle of Jericho' in which I will have to put my complete faith into those who have done their up most to convince me that I will have fun.  So "Go blow those rave whistles, Rosencrantz cries / 'Cause the battle is in my hands."

Episode_001_Absolute Beginners

In the first episode of 'A is for Anarchy' Rosencrantz and Guildenstern ponder social injustice, the quality of local news reports and the boundaries between fiction and reality... It isn't as boring as it sounds.  Honest.