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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

I was standing at the side of Dame Street, waiting to cross the road. It had been a good journey to work: I'd left the house on time, I'd got the Luas, I'd annoyed an old lady, I'd made important decisions, I was beginning to work on an extensive shopping list in my head of new things that I "needed" and a secondary list of justifications for all of these new "necessary" things. Life, in short, was yay.

There was one tiny doubt niggling at the back of my mind though, not a huge worry at all, but something that was itching away at my barely-subconscious. Like having a stone in your shoe, or a pea underneath your twelve mattresses. Just a minor irritation. Like a sibling that won't shut up. But it was spoiling my fun times and distracting me from my shopping list.

So I engaged my usual mode of difficult decision making, one engaged I'm reliably informed by the late Pope: I left it in the hand of the Gods. Or in the hands of God. Whatever you prefer. I like to think of a great big committee of people sitting on clouds with nothing better to do than to make decisions for me, because I'm too lazy or distracted to make them myself.

Once I've offered my conundrum up to those valiant deities, all there is left for me to do is wander about looking for a sign. Because this is a system entirely of my own making, the sign can be just about anything at all. Usually, it's song lyrics heard on a radio or overheard conversations that seem to speak directly to the problem at hand, but quite often it can be something entirely other.

Today’s sign came almost immediately, and was just - in the grinning words of the super new Dr Who, who you should rightfully worship and adore - fantastic. There I was, standing at the side of Dame Street, waiting to cross the road with joy in my heart at the recent irritation of the elderly. The lights had just changed from “pedestrians walk” to “take your life in your own hands”, and I’d decided to lean back and wait for the next round.

A bus pulled up. The bus stopped. The bus started indicating to turn the corner on to George’s Street. I looked at the traffic lining up beside the bus. I looked up at the bus. I caught the eye of the cute scruffy guy sitting almost directly in front of me on the bus. Said cute scruffy guy looked back. Said cute scruffy guy took off his too-cool-for-school sunglasses, winked at me, waved in the most effeminate way imaginable, replaced said sunglasses, looked forward straight faced as if nothing had happened. I burst out laughing very very loudly. Said cute scruffy guy looked back at me, grinned, winked (from behind sunglasses) and bus went round corner.

All with impeccable timing.

I take this as a sign that the Gods are pleased with my decision.


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