Hello. I do hope you're enjoying your weekend. Here's my latest article:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2008/nov/30/italy-parents
I'm afraid this is turning into my "I have written an article" blog, which is not very interesting for anyone, is it? Especially as I write articles relatively often. It's not like you're going to go "Gadzooks! An article? By Ariane? How quaintly novel!" (Before anyone else says it, a novel would be quaintly novel, but let's not dwell on my inadequacies today...)
So yes, we've all been here before. And again. And I repeat myself. If you truly wanted to know each time I wrote an article, you could sign up to the RSS feed and be done with it.
But I think I like to tell you, because the articles are the brightest bits of my life, like the lights in a shop window even when the store is shut and empty.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
BO Selecta
Further to the dubious title of this piece (which sounds like an order) , my article in The Guardian today is called "Give It To Me Straight":
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2008/nov/24/bo-honesty-ban-ki-moon
Still, that title's really nothing compared to this...
I liked today's article, but lots of people didn't. Those people are, of course, wrong. I also liked the fact that it's the first Guardian piece ever to have "BO" in the URL. It's these little things that bring me joy on these gloomy November days when it gets dark early. Those things, and double entendres.
My friend Josh has a phrase ("That's what she said") which brings us endless amusement whenever we meet up. We say it after anything which can be remotely misconstrued:
Me (while cooking): I don't think there's enough room to fit all this in.
Josh: That's what she said!
The hours just fly by...
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2008/nov/24/bo-honesty-ban-ki-moon
Still, that title's really nothing compared to this...
I liked today's article, but lots of people didn't. Those people are, of course, wrong. I also liked the fact that it's the first Guardian piece ever to have "BO" in the URL. It's these little things that bring me joy on these gloomy November days when it gets dark early. Those things, and double entendres.
My friend Josh has a phrase ("That's what she said") which brings us endless amusement whenever we meet up. We say it after anything which can be remotely misconstrued:
Me (while cooking): I don't think there's enough room to fit all this in.
Josh: That's what she said!
The hours just fly by...
Friday, November 21, 2008
Taxicab Confessions
Yesterday evening, I took a taxi from Oxford Street to Clerkenwell, and had the following conversation.
Taxi Driver: Lots of traffic 'cause of the Christmas lights on New Bond Street. They've just switched 'em on.
Me: Oh. What do the lights look like?
TD (giving me a weird look): Like lights.
Me: No, I mean the ones in Regent Street are stars, and the ones on Oxford Street are bells, so...
TD: A bra.
Me: Sorry?
TD: They're a bra. (Makes 'bra' shape with his hands.) And then there's a bit dangling down from the middle of the bra.
Me: Do you think... it might just be you who thinks they look like a bra? The designer probably didn't mean for people to think they were a bra.
TD (huffily): Don't see what else they could be!
Me: I mean, back home, they used to have lights shaped like candles. And there was a flame sputtering out of the end of the candle. But I thought it was something else.
TD (confused): What did you think it was?
Me: Er... you know.
TD: No. What?
Me: Um... a man... weeing.
TD: Oh.
We sat in silence for the rest of the journey.
Taxi Driver: Lots of traffic 'cause of the Christmas lights on New Bond Street. They've just switched 'em on.
Me: Oh. What do the lights look like?
TD (giving me a weird look): Like lights.
Me: No, I mean the ones in Regent Street are stars, and the ones on Oxford Street are bells, so...
TD: A bra.
Me: Sorry?
TD: They're a bra. (Makes 'bra' shape with his hands.) And then there's a bit dangling down from the middle of the bra.
Me: Do you think... it might just be you who thinks they look like a bra? The designer probably didn't mean for people to think they were a bra.
TD (huffily): Don't see what else they could be!
Me: I mean, back home, they used to have lights shaped like candles. And there was a flame sputtering out of the end of the candle. But I thought it was something else.
TD (confused): What did you think it was?
Me: Er... you know.
TD: No. What?
Me: Um... a man... weeing.
TD: Oh.
We sat in silence for the rest of the journey.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Thrift, Procrastination And The £133.84 DVD
In March this year, I lost a DVD. I am ashamed to admit that this DVD was "Anthea Turner: Perfect Housewife Series 2 Disc 1". I would absolve myself by claiming it wasn't my DVD, which is true, but this disclaimer would then be rendered moot by the confession that I indeed chose to rent said DVD from LoveFilm.
LoveFilm (as you probably know) is one of many DVD rental services which sends you discs with "no late fees". You receive them, you watch them, you post them back, you pay a subscription fee every month (for me, it was £15.99). I largely enjoyed this process, even though the Post Office kept losing them, and I worried that LoveFilm were getting a little suspicious.
So when I lost a DVD myself, I decided I had to find it. I refused to blame its loss on the postal service as I had done (legitimately) so many times before. I would hunt it down, return it, and then (as writing was taking up a lot of my time) I would cancel the service. I refused to write the DVD off as lost, because there was no point paying for something I didn't want to buy, which had to be in my room somewhere. The only problem was that it wasn't.
I searched everywhere: behind my bed, under my bed, under my table, in my under-bed drawer. I lost hours of my life to that DVD. But it was to no avail: it was nowhere to be found. Every month, I thought "I've got to cancel!" Yet I kept forgetting. Finally, 9 months later and £133.84 poorer, I conceded defeat.
I marked the DVD as "lost" on my LoveFilm account, and told them I wanted to pay for it before cancelling my account.
Today, I received this reply:
"Dear Ms Sherine
We appreciate your recent email informing us that you are willing to pay for the cost of the lost title 'Perfect Housewife - Series 2 - Disc 1'. We would like to inform you that we have written off the outstanding DVD as a gesture of goodwill and the title is no longer outstanding on your account."
It was very kind of them, but I do wish I'd emailed them 9 months ago. I also wish it had been Citizen Kane instead. That would have been a lot more dignified.
LoveFilm (as you probably know) is one of many DVD rental services which sends you discs with "no late fees". You receive them, you watch them, you post them back, you pay a subscription fee every month (for me, it was £15.99). I largely enjoyed this process, even though the Post Office kept losing them, and I worried that LoveFilm were getting a little suspicious.
So when I lost a DVD myself, I decided I had to find it. I refused to blame its loss on the postal service as I had done (legitimately) so many times before. I would hunt it down, return it, and then (as writing was taking up a lot of my time) I would cancel the service. I refused to write the DVD off as lost, because there was no point paying for something I didn't want to buy, which had to be in my room somewhere. The only problem was that it wasn't.
I searched everywhere: behind my bed, under my bed, under my table, in my under-bed drawer. I lost hours of my life to that DVD. But it was to no avail: it was nowhere to be found. Every month, I thought "I've got to cancel!" Yet I kept forgetting. Finally, 9 months later and £133.84 poorer, I conceded defeat.
I marked the DVD as "lost" on my LoveFilm account, and told them I wanted to pay for it before cancelling my account.
Today, I received this reply:
"Dear Ms Sherine
We appreciate your recent email informing us that you are willing to pay for the cost of the lost title 'Perfect Housewife - Series 2 - Disc 1'. We would like to inform you that we have written off the outstanding DVD as a gesture of goodwill and the title is no longer outstanding on your account."
It was very kind of them, but I do wish I'd emailed them 9 months ago. I also wish it had been Citizen Kane instead. That would have been a lot more dignified.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
