For whatever reason I was looking at Rightmove’s annual happiness index related to where you live in the UK.
First off a huge “What the actual ***” moment for Luton, a down-at-heal town forever rubbished, scorned, derided and snubbed ,multi-time winner of Britain’s Crappiest town seems to score highly on overall happiness despite how many seem to portray it whilst St Albans, the affluent Hertfordshire city but 20 mins down the road from Luton is seemingly full of very unhappy bunnies. And yet a typical resident of St Albans would likely imagine that Luton on a Saturday night is akin to a Syrian war zone.
And lastly by comparison the highly desired London suburb of Kensington and Chelsea, with the joy London all around it is the most expensive shortcut to a life of misery.
Overheard conversation between two passing young women:
“And he said to me; you know, for a woman you’re freakishly like a man”.
In life so far: strangers ask me for directions (I look like I know where I’m going?) & they give me unwanted stuff (I look needy?). Could be worse.
I spent time in limbo last night. In my dream I was massively electrocuted by faulty wiring whilst replacing a light bulb. I writhed around seemingly painlessly and helpless as 240 volts arced through my body. I was aware of my partners distress at being unable to intervene. The world around be faded into a milky white obscurity as I found myself in a limbo world where I was aware I was would spend time before being reborn.
I was able to view the living though few of them could view me.
Picture by Perla Lewis under this creative commons license
A quick visit to our only nearby supermarket, closed for the past three days due to a refurbishment, yielded an interesting example of role playing by a senior member of our society.
I was standing waiting to use the self checkout facility and the seventy something guy behind me struck up a conversation about how hit and miss the process of swiping your own items was. I agreed and said that it was sometimes hard to get all the items through without some kind of staff intervention but it was still worth it when you only have a handful of items.
The gentleman then revealed that he would normally stand there and look frail and helpless in order to illicit help from the designated self checkout assistant. He followed this revelation with a crafty wink and a wry smile.
I then watched in awe as he suddenly transformed himself into a doe eyed helpless retired gentleman quickly transforming his demeanour he caught the eye of said female assistant who then promptly processed each and every one of his items herself thus leaving him with little to do but smile meekly and say thank-you as the entire process was completed by a willing third party.
We both left the store at the same time and the helpless stoop straightened into a more healthy upright stride as he exited the store. A small example of one of the rare advantages of over playing ones age and fragility for personal benefit?
Photo by trib under this creative commons license
Oooh get you.A comment about the construction of a new shopping centre in Shepherds Bush, London by Westfield (a common name in Australia).
Photo by LoopZilla under this creative commons license