I had me some Blog Block yesterday. Ugh. So I went out for a run and turned on my tunes.
Running with music blaring out is a bit like being in a movie. Like when the hero runs through a meadow towards a foxy minx, or runs away through a field being chased by zombies. It’s good fun pretending to be in a movie. Especially as my husband told me I looked like Robocop with my new phone-holder (or holster, shall we call it) strapped to my upper left gun. *smug face*
Although, wait? Like Robocop? Beefy and manish?
Nah. He must be thinking of another holster wearing strong movie hero. Sarah Connor in Terminator 2.
POW! And I start running again, looking in to the horizon, narrowing my eyes and thinking there is a storm coming…
That is until an old banger full of teenage boys whizzes past me and shouts
I stop. Shocked.
Maybe I do rock the manly android look?
Or, thinking back on it, it was probably more likely it was
But that’s not the point, ok? I get this a lot. People shouting stuff at me. Because I am a ginger. I got it at school, which was crappy but kids are vile to each other. I didn’t expect to get it when I was grown up. But get it I did and get it did I good (get your pointless whipsy beard attempt laughing tackle round THAT you little chavs). Wandering through the pretty quaint little town of Wendover one summer, appreciating the warm sun on my face and admiring the 20% Cath Kidston sale, this bellend suddenly drove past me in a Golf and shouted out
I felt a bit shocked. And sad. I mean…why? But then anger kicks in and I always wish I was clever and quick enough to have a witty comeback then and there, and not 4 hours later driving down the A404 with my dad.
I am not the kind of person who is quick enough to shout
“BLONDIE!” (whose song, incidently “One way or another” is an excellent running song)
Anyway, tonight, like 10 years ago, the chav’s drove on not giving me a second thought. And as I run away (from the baddies and my memories *sigh*) it starts to rain. And I go back to being with my music and on my movie-set. Is it raining? I hadn’t noticed. Except no wait, I DO notice! My phones USB hole is exposed in my gun holster! It is suddenly chucking it down! I cradle my left arm across my chest like it is in an imaginary waterproof sling, batting away the drizzly air rushing towards me like a drowning cat with one paw. Or like how a camp man might fight another camp man.
And in to my brain pops Tom from Bridget Jones’ diary. I imagine he would fight like a drowning one limbed feline… and my memories unravel like a ball of soggy wool until I remember…
I have a friend who reminds me a lot of Tom from Bridget Jones’ Diary. And one of our favourite games was driving around in another friends car, and when we spotted a pedestrian on the street, and we were far enough away from stopping risks like traffic lights, we used to shout out the window
and wave like mad like we knew them.
We were not being mean. It was our hilarious game and we always used to collapse in a fit of giggles in the backseat when they used to jump about 10 billion feet in the air, looking really confused.
Karma, of sorts then? Me being a LESBIAN!
And here in endeth the Blog Block.
But Robocop does need your help. My husband is horrified that I run blaring music out of my phone sans headphones (I have weird shaped ear holes and the little wotsits just keep falling out all the god damn time and Robocop stops for no man nor techincal beast). He likens it to me running along reading my book out loud so everyone knows what I am doing for entertainment (he always threatens to do this whenever we are on a train and some chavvy loser is blaring out N Dubz or One Direction and reaches for his book like he is reaching for a loaded gun…a weapon of words…). But music is my movie soundtrack and keeps me trucking along. And I need more running tune-age suggestions. Anyone recommend anything decent to keep Robocop on the road?