A Brief Note From Your Friendly Neighbourhood Moron

[chess]

Your friendly neighbourhood moron somehow managed to get it in her head that it was Tuesday. This
would have been wholly unimportant, given that school was over by this point, if it was not that
she has a driving lesson from school on a Tuesday. Hence, this retard decided to hang around
outside the petrol station (where the aforementioned driving lesson is scheduled to start from)
until about four minutes past four, at which point, on thinking that her driving instructor was
uncharacteristically late, suddenly realised that it was in fact not Tuesday, but indeed Monday,
on which it would have been very useful if she could have caught the train home. The train
leaving at 4.07. Needless to say, the train station is most definately more than three minutes'
walk from the petrol station. In fact, it is more than three minutes' run from the petrol
station, especially at the pathetic speed that your friendly neighbourhood moron pretends might
constitute a 'run'.

Your friendly neighbourhood moron then wastes another two or three minutes attempting to phone
home. On recieving the immediate answer machine - someone's online or on the phone - she
reasonably assumes that should her mother be online, she would have left her mobile on. Her
mother's mobile proffering the same immediate answerphone response, she assumes that her mother
must be on the phone to somebody and rings home again, this time leaving an apologetic message.
At this point, she suddenly realises that making her mother come all the way out to Chelmsford is
just unnecessarily cruel, and hence begins to make her way to the train station to find a train
to Witham. Although she thinks there is one at 4:14, her chances of getting to the station by
that time are now significantly reduced. Thankfully she does not have quite the complete lack of
intelligence to run for it, because otherwise your humble narrator may have been typing in
Manningtree station as opposed to Witham, as the 4:14 does not actually stop at Witham.

Having acquired herself a real season ticket as opposed to the scrappy piece of paper she was
given in the morning in return for twenty of your earth pounds, your humble narrator finds a
train to Witham, calling home again to attempt to convey this information also, and finding
herself once again talking to an answerphone. Slightly concerned by this, she boards the train to
Witham, reassuring herself that she has more than enough money for the bus fare home anyhow, even
if it is an awkward route requiring her to change busses in Braintree. Thankfully, halfway
through this journey (at 4:23pm) her phone rings, and her mother regales her with a sorry tale of
computers which dial up to the Internet entirely of their own volition and mothers who do not
realise this for reasonable quantities of time. So, after writing half of this on Witham Station,
your humble and significantly disorganised narrator finds herself in a nice warm car (too warm;
the engine is overheating, which is an interesting trick on such a cold day) on her way home, and
All Is Well.

Comments

Hmmmm

[dr-vannacutt.livejournal.com]

I had to write it on my arm so i remembered to go to my theory test today.

I do it all the time cos i can never remember stuff. Your not a moron you made a mistake. When i was little i had to walk 7 miles home cos i fogot my buspass had run out.

I also had to pay £10 to the leeches that run london underground cos i forgot my pass expired yesterday.

And i forgot to fill my bike with petrol and while racing a rude boy in his hot hatch and it cut out when i was doing about 90 and that wasnt funny i had to push the bike about half a mile to fill it up again.

I forgot to switch off an 0845 dial up and left it on for about 16 hours.

Those were just forgetting generally but we all do it.

Just dont confuse the gas pedel and the foot break that really fun!!!

Or think that reverce is 6th gear.