January 22nd - 28th 2006
Sunday Wapping
Saturday Wedge
Friday Wapping
Thursday Extremely
Wednesday Wapping
Tuesday Burgered if I know
Monday Polished
Sunday 28th January
Wapping, Winter 2007
Saturday 27th January
I know I have a nasty tongue in my head, and I try hard to keep it under control. Mostly.
Earlier this week, I went shopping for, amongst other things, some machine oil and a door-wedge (more of that later, perhaps).
After ten minutes or so cruising the aisles to no avail, I had to go ask the spotty teen behind the counter where the door-wedges were, and got a guided tour by way of reply.
"There are these, in a jumbo pack of three, the value option. Or..." leading me to the other side of the store, "there's your basic rubber version," (which is what I wanted), "or.." down two aisles and round a corner, "we have this de-luxe wood-effect version, which adds a touch of glamour!"
"That," I heard myself mutter, "is an opinion you may care to keep to yourself."
Friday 26th January
Wapping, Winter 2007
Thursday 25th January
When temperatures are predicted to drop to around freezing point - but not substantially below - Network Rail would normally spray the tracks with a substance known as Magic Ice Stop to prevent them from jamming.
A spokesman was unable to explain why this was not done extensively on Tuesday night. "We made a call on the information we had, but we may not have had the full picture."
"When you get extreme weather conditions there will be disruption," the spokesman said.
Challenged over his description of Tuesday night as extreme, the spokesman added: "We are a temperate country, snow is extreme weather."
Wednesday 24th January
Wapping, Winter 2007
Tuesday 23rd January
There's a branch of the now-ubiquitous Cornish Pasty chain just round the corner from our office which stays open till 3am; given that our new offices don't run to any kind of hot food or drink after the canteen shuts at 11pm, and given we often work past 2am, I tend to patronise it rather more than I otherwise would.
The fact that it's manned by a relatively attractive Polish boy helps, I admit, and I can't help but notice that his tiny outlet functions as an unofficial drop-in centre for other Poles arriving in the capital: there's always at least one rather worn-looking woman standing forlornly close to the door, keeping a careful eye on a very big suitcase whilst shouting into a mobile phone.
"Pasta showp!" yelled a woman last night, along with an otherwise incomrehensible jumble of syllables in which consonants seemed somewhat over-represented. "Paystee shupp! Pasti shoop!"
There was brief pause in which, presumably, alternative rendezvous points were offered her. She looked around, frowned, and then, with the phone still clenched to her ear, marched up to me at the counter.
"Buddikiny!"
Unsure whether I was being insulted or propositioned, I smiled a carefully non-committal smile.
"Burdockinni? Bhuddateenyi!"
Silently willing Carol (for such his name-badge proclaims him) to hurry up with my latte, I did my best to keep smiling.
And then, suddenly smiling into the middle distance, "Ah!", she trollied off. "Boodjerkinyi!"
I was halfway back to the office before the zloty dropped.
Burger King.
Monday 22nd January
Cultural shifts happen slowly as a rule, but if you look closely you can sometimes see the individual pebbles of the avalanche as they bound past you.
As this morning, in my local East End corner-shop, a cramped, crammed cornucopia of everyday comestibles, run by Asians, catering to what I still think of as a largely Asian parish, and stocking at least one brand of most anything you're likely to run out of.
Looking for nothing more exotic than some acceptable ground coffee, I found myself staring at a narrow vertical slice of shelving devoted entirely to food for Poles.
In some sort of gesture of immigrant solidarity, I bought a sachet of 'Pork Tripe with vegetables'. It's 'smaczna nowość!' apparently, and needs warming up 'on a small fire' - I'm not promising to eat it any time soon.
......previous week
