I had a nice day yesterday. I went round to my nan's house to watch afternoon tv, drink hot ribena and have a chat. My nan is a bit of a loud mouth cockney, she grew up in Islington on Thornhill Crescent, as a youth she worked at a picture house in Angel and got sacked for nicking a fiver. All the recent stabbings make her cry. I tried to get a photo of her, possibly throwing fours, but she hadn't had her hair set and so point blank refused. Why is that old women can afford to go to the hairdresser multiple times a week? I swear they go in just to get it washed.
Anyway, I grabbed a couple shots of my sister Sarah instead, more here. When did such amazing carpet die? Does it only now exist in the time warp that is grandparents' houses? I hate the 90's... it came in and sent everybody crazy for pine wood everything. I blame Ikea.... it killed true style, or at least carpet!
On the way back home, I was stuck in relatively slow moving traffic. My phone beeped so I picked it up.... a text message from Biz.... whilst reading, I crashed into the back of an old man's car. I crapped myself, threw my phone at my sister, ripped out my cd player, which was blasting Lil Wayne - I needed to look as innocent as possible, and Lil Wayne does not give off that vibe... Thankfully, in the end it was only minor damage and the man was so old he probably didn't give a shit , he just looked at my face and told me I could go.
Moral of this post: I love old people. They are the best.