I HAD the Vs thrown at me this week. Mind you I did call the bird-flipper a tosser.
Yes your friend and mine, the pedestrian crossing outside Horizon once again featured a driver who decided that red lights weren’t for him.
It was already full on when he came around the corner like a James Hunt and the speeding sound of his engine was enough to make me realise he wasn’t going to stop.
He had to save himself a quarter of a precious minute.
So yes, I shouted after him and yes he flipped me the Vs out of the window. I’m pretty sure, gorgeous as I consider myself, I couldn’t be viewed as anything other than a middle-aged woman, one with a dog in tow, so what does go through their tiny brains when they zoom around the corner, see the school, see the traffic lights, see people crossing?
They save fifteen seconds but risk so much more because so many pensioners with slower reaction times to me use that crossing with their dogs.
They trust the red light has supernatural powers to stop the racers. They don’t. But how I wish they did.
So Love Island is over. It’s been the most marvellous entertainment. Never thought I’d get into anything like that, but it’s just what your brain needs to power down after a hard day’s grafting.
This season featured a Barnsley lad 23-year-old site engineer Ty Isherwood. He made it to the final, though didn’t win. But how lovely that Ty came across as a smashing, decent, caring lad and a credit to us.
I do hope he enjoys his (hopefully more than) fifteen minutes of fame and has a ball, makes a few quid, gets invited to some nice things and has really found a connection. Always nice when we get a bit of positive press through our people.
How sad that yet another care home in our area has been deemed ‘inadequate’. Eboracum House on leafy Park Grove.
The owners of these places rake in the cash, cream off the profits for their fat savings accounts and spend peanuts. I’ve said it before, for what they make they could easily run a safe, comfortable home for the elderly, but they choose not to.
They don’t care that their guests now have to move and stability is a lot to the elderly. It should be a criminal offence to run a home with such low standards. Greedy bleeders.
A friend of mine (darn sarf) is having a book launch and her PR team decided I’d be a good bet to interview her on stage, me being in Yorkshire as the event was ‘local’ to me.
Where was it – Scarborough. Finally I’ve met someone worse at geography than me. And I didn’t think that was possible.
Yet another name in last week’s obituary column that I recognise: a lad I went to school with who has died aged 61.
I still remember him with his white-blonde hair as a young boy. It’s no age is it? Suck it up like a sponge folks, life is sometimes as fragile as spider-thread.
I was heartily delighted that my forthcoming book launch at the Town Hall in October sold out in hours this week. ‘How do you do that?’ said a fellow novelist.
‘Make sure there’s some good snap on’ I said. I may have absolute faith in my writing abilities, but it doesn’t hurt to have the best egg mayo sarnies in town as a support act now, does it? Basics in my book – excuse the pun.
