The Mighty Grump - street vendors & junk mail in the age of grumpiness
It seems that the inevitable has descended upon me without me even realising it...I have entered the age of grump! Apparently this is a trait recognised already in middle-aged men but I suppose that is the problem - I didn't realise I was middle aged!
At 41 years of age I look back on life's journey to-date and wonder where the time has gone! I certainly don't feel middle aged, despite the pain in my right shoulder (which is of course an 'old rugby wound" not arthritis) and despite having to extend my arms and tilt my head a little to read fine print (which is of course due to editors using the wrong font combined with poor lighting...not failing eyesight)...one is surely only as old as the man you feel...right now I feel like a 25 year old - if only I could find one!
But I found myself scurrying along Paddington's streets muttering to myself like some evil wizard babbling some incantation. "Oh my god," I thought, "I'm becoming my father!" But, I did have good reason. Praed street is slowly expunging the sex workers for another form a prostitute...the street vendor. The number of street vendors is beginning to compete for space with the pigeons (who despite being God's creatures, I hold in low repute as the flying equivalent of a rat!)
I remember vividly a time in a cinema in Newcastle under Lyme going to see Airplane and seeing Robert Stack en route to the Tower to manage the impending doom, having to fight off all manner of people as he tried to traverse the airport concourse, and having to resort to kung-fu and all out fist-fights to get by. My journey from my office to Eastbourne terrace was of similar rigour. Between the post-office and Paddington station I had to battle past three different vendors, niftily weaving behind a pillar to avoid one only to be met by another complete with smiley face brandishing a ready folded paper for my delectation! But all I wanted to do to this poor man was deliver mediaeval harm to him for conspiring with the masses to stop me getting home!
And apparently I'm not alone! Many people are feeling the same scourge ailing out streets. And the vendors do themselves no service. I noticed the other day that in front of Hilton London Paddington hotel they are beginning to form a gauntlet for the public to run through.
So, I've decided to hit back - not with violence with quiet protest. I now take all the papers that they give me and dump them in their competitors trolley. This brings an extra joy knowing that the poor mutt having to spawn this rain-forest depleting tripe now has to pick up his competitors pulp in order to get at his next batch of advert-filled drivel!
But I haven't stopped there! I've found a new joy in life - returning junk mail! It started first by getting four copies of the same junk mail item in my mail box. I can't help think that the Royal mail in complicit in this. At a time when we would prefer or our simply to be delivered, preferably on time, they seem to be conspiring with commercially driven ventures to deliver junk mail - apparently at the same time! But the proportion of mail to junk mail is getting ridiculous. So, I decided to ...yes you guessed...silently protest. So, now I gather my various bits of junk mail with a sense of anticipation, awaiting someone to include a return envelope, and hey presto, I have a means of offloading my junk mail to another participant in the game (this time a guilty junk-mailer.) While some have formed art exhibits from their junk mail (and I have to admire my fellow Geordie or this creative protest,) I have decided to simply hit them where it hurts...in the pocket. If there is a prepaid envelope or form, I either fill the envelope with as much junk mail as I can and return it in which ever prepaid envelope is at hand, or else I simply return the form without any data. Tonight I say Dom Jolly's latest - and although I'm not really a fan of his humour, tonight the first episode his "The Complainers" had me crying, neh, gasping for bearth with laughter. I thought the "lady" who flashed the builders, and the clamper who clamped the wheel clamper were particularly good. Apparently next week he runs a slot on junk e-mail - I will watch for any ideas!
There are other ways of dealing with junk mail that use official routes to quell this canker on society which should be employed, but alone they are not totally effective and certainly not as satisfying as getting one back on the maleficent's mail-returned scheme I'm enjoying.
Next on my agenda is getting my PC and software to work and getting service from the booming dis-service industries that are vying for our money with little to offer in return. Perhaps the tunnel of gloom and grump has a light at the end after-all!
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