Chaos to Cosmos
The path from chaos to cosmos was discovered by telling one's life story

Tuesday, 21 October 2008

I hate Jamie Oliver

Well, no I don't hate him, of course, because I've never met him, but if I was my mother, no doubt, I'd believe he was to blame for this behaviour.

She's just barged in here, she could clearly see that I'm doing something and just to "drop a subtle hint", I made a deliberate point of not looking up and of furrowing my brow studiously. She doesn't ever ask, she doesn't wait, she just rushes into a diatribe. This one was about "this program" (I wasn't watching TV) is a Jamie Oliver (I'd lived in Spain since he was 17, heard of him, never seen him), did you know he's dyslexic? No, but lots of people are (and haven't died from it, come to think of it, it doesn't seem to have stunted his success very much, point?), he can only read 12 pages and he goes to sleep (well, that may be true, but that's not dyslexia as I know it), but you should see how he ... 

(I'd stopped listening long before this) Look, I'm doing something right now (I'm really not interested and if I were I could watch it online ...)

(Words in brackets are thoughts unvoiced, because there's no point.)

To give her one point, at least it wasn't to tell me about the plot of Emmerdale or Corrie, or who she wants to win Strictly Come Dancing. Agggrrrr! :)

So she storms off in a huff, slamming doors, believing herself to be the "injured party". I'm "wrong" for not wanting to hear what she has to say about nothing of any interest to me at a time when I'm concentrating on something else ...

And something similar happens at least 20 times a day.