A* for Assassination

The UK education system will forever be up for criticism. This is a given for every generation ‘X’. Every parent to generation ‘X’. Every political party in the firing-line at any given moment. 

I always find it comforting therefore, to hear young adults discussing their school day with conviction, and an obvious yearning to find out more. 

As a group of student types boarded the bus; wearing mandatory casual-scruff meets Made in Chelsea attire, thick-rimmed glasses and talking slightly louder than socially necessary, I couldn’t help but take an interest in their topic of conversation.

“I’ve completely failed that Physics module,” young fashionista.

“But your Dad’s a scientist,” not all there in skinny jeans.

“What’s that supposed to mean, I’m a baby Einstein?” young fashionista.  

The group sat in front and to the left of me so I was in prime ear-shot (as was the rest of the bus) for a post-work tutorial.

“Humanities is proving tougher than I thought. Although our teacher did tell us how to assassinate someone without getting caught,” text book carrier.

“What? That’s crazy!” not all there skinny jeans (looking decidedly more ‘with it’.)

“Yeah, it’s pretty simple really. Perhaps one day I’ll teach you,” text book carrier, smiling as if she’s lost a £20 note and found a £50.

“Wow, fingers crossed that question comes up in your exam. You twat,” young fashionista.

And with that, the topic turned from education to Celebrity Big Brother – naturally.   


I Should Be So Plucky

It’s a given that many of us feel a little worse-for-wear after the festive season and view the new year as an opportunity to preen, tweak and refine.

I kick-started 2014 off with a new job, which doesn’t only mean a new pair of flats and an ever so slightly eager set of stationery (I do love a notepad), but a whole new commute. Already, I’ve been treated to some wonderful over-sharing, a man with a crotch so wide I would’ve been more comfy travelling al fresco on the bus roof and a lady so desperate for a sip of her morning latte, she had to shout that oh so uncomfortable, “Can you let me off please?” at the bus driver, as he began to depart.

Thankfully, any first day nerves I had were put on the back-burner, as I was treated to a detailed description of a young man’s beauty regime.

“I so need to book a session before Monday. You should see the state of them, they need some serious TLC,” metrosexual man, “I literally can’t look at them. And I’m out of moisturiser.”

I do love a good moisturiser. In actual fact, I’ve been using the same one for over 14 years – a creature of habit!

“Hun, do you still have those pictures of me at the party? Can you send me the ones where my eyebrows look really good? They were seriously well plucked before Christmas. No, I said plucked,” metrosexual man.

Ah, that age old problem of finding a good plucker. Can’t say I’ve ever understood the rhyme or reason behind such an activity, whether male or female. I suppose it could’ve been worse, he may’ve been talking about his bikini line!