On the window of my morning commuter can; Emergency Exit. If there’s an emergency that necessitates using the window to exit, then I won’t really need it to be labelled as such in said situation. I’ll be too busy climbing over people’s limbs to check what’s been officially deemed an emergency exit and what hasn’t, won’t I?
Moreover, the Guardian sign above it advertising “new opportunities” was also a misnomer – it advertised social work, teaching, human resources. If, in my life, I’m looking for something new, surely it should defy categorisation?
Hmph. Curmudgeoning, me. Must have been the weekend. I was at the most cardboard-f**king-cutout wedding at the weekend – grannies dancing on their zimmers, the bride was blushing, little kids caused a ruckus, someone’s nephew was DJing, the band played hallelujah… And all the girls were born-again Christians. Not that I would have made a move otherwise, anyway. At least the bride and groom seemed happy, though I felt like my whole day (and hence the weekend) was wasted, as we felt completely redundant.