Reining Back.

The checkout I went through in the supermarket today was staffed by a young woman I haven’t seen before. The poor girl got one of my minor rants about the state of the great British public, and how reliant it’s become on the overbearing and often irrational guidance of Nanny State. I apologised, of course, once I’d let off steam.

‘No,’ she said, ‘thank you for entertaining me.’

Oh. I decided she was either being sarcastic or giving the stock response prescribed in the Sainsbury’s Training Manual. I would prefer sarcasm of the two.

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And while I’m making a trivial post, I might mention that the newspaper article about my UFO sighting described me as a ‘novelist.’ I never said I was a novelist. I don’t consider the writing of one novel and a novella sufficient to justify such an epithet, especially since they’re both self-published. Nevertheless, I was tempted to wonder whether being a ‘novelist’ might carry some currency in certain quarters. But no, I have to be authentic above all else.

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And I saw a T-shirt in a shop that had printed on it Older Guys Rule. As if I’m not deluded enough already!