It’s the last bank holiday of the Summer and the weather is slowly turning autumnal. The leaves are falling off the trees and the air is getting a bit crispy and clear. Also, since it’s August, it means it’s the Notting Hill Carnival.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m a curmudgeon about all sorts of things so don’t think that I’m singling Carnival out for any sort of ideological reasons. It’s just that I am from right near there and they always got in my fucking way. AND the shops locally try to rip off the locals thinking we’re carnival-goers. And the tube stations are exit only and the rubbish is strewn all over the bleedin’ shop.
And another thing, some of us don’t want to stay awake listening to whistles, throbbing bass lines, and vuvuzelas (are they even still a thing actually?).
I often wonder why I always feel so reluctant to get involved with bank holidays and summer fun. And I have realised that the reason I am reluctant is because everyone else is also there. I much rather have a random day off with a lot fewer people about. For someone born in London I sure don’t like crowds. Sidenote: I have just been having a conversation with the enigmatic flatmate where I just admitted that I find interacting with anyone at all a bit much. Sometimes. God, it’s hard being a human person.
It’s not a bank holiday in Scotland or Ireland this week and that’s why i have always enjoyed visiting those countries during this weekend but in an effort to save some pennies I have not gone anywhere at all this year. And yet, I am still not a millionaire. I don’t even have Netflix.
P.S. I want some barbecue chicken and I have been thinking about indoor, smokeless barbecue cookers. Who knew such things existed? What a world.
I went for an eye test the other day and, in a rare positive of ageing, my eyesight is improving. This means I need a new prescription. A weaker prescription. Weird, huh? Well, things can only get better and then they’ll get worse.
I’ve been wearing glasses since I was 11 years old. So only 5 or 6 years 32 years. I was reminded only today that there was a time when you could get spectacles within the hour. WITHIN the hour. Do you know how long my regular, boring, single vision, no coating, no thinning lenses will take? 2 weeks. One whole fortnight. Why? How have we regressed?
I was watching a YouTube video (now, I warn you, the topic of the video is going to sound boring but we’ve been over this. I need to be distracted and I find myself watching no end of nonsense) on the decline of 24-hour Tesco supermarkets. And I thought, “oh yeah. That was a thing. An actual, real thing that did not exist, then did exist, and now no longer exists.” And, like, I get it. They’re not economically viable. But there feels like there used to be a time when things were done, services provided, goods made – not for profit (or not solely for profit) but because that was what was for the best for society, or the customer, or whatever.
‘Enshittification’ was coined by a science fiction writer, Cory Doctorow, about declining in quality of services. Usually this is about web platforms, e.g. Google. Have ya noticed how shit Google searches have become? I tend to add “reddit” to the end of my searches in order to get something useful. I know, but Reddit can be useful. When I first heard about enshittification I thought, “yeah. I see that. The internet ain’t what it once was.” But, enshittification is actually everywhere now.
Police stations no longer have service counters in them, if they’re open at all. Glasses take several weeks to be made and even then the level of care, of customer service is severely lacking. I don’t want to sound like a Boomer but it used to be that opticians, shops staff, police officers, etc at least pretended to care about the services they were offering.
In a world that is over consuming and over selling you’d expect that they should want to give us something more. But you know why they don’t? Because we accept it. We still buy the things and overconsume so who cares that it’s shoddier now? We’re still going to buy all the tat we want.
In the 1950s fridges were a marvel. These basic goods were built to improve the housewife’s life. These were goddamned beauties.
Just look at this
And now what have we got? Smart fridges? HAH
Greggs used to sell more than just sausage rolls. The other day I went in there to buy, admittedly, sausage rolls but I also wanted to buy, like, whatever else. A cookie. A sarnie. I was at a loose end and I had money on the app. Now they’re selling pizza and whatnot but they’ve forgotten that they’re a bakery. Do you think you can buy bread from Greggs? You’d think so, wouldn’t you. What with bakers famously making bread. You’d be wrong. Not a bloomer nor a cob in sight. It’s actually bullshit. (NB I still love Greggs though I do fear they’ve become rather overrated and they’d better knock it off).
This all began when Freddos started being used as a guide for inflation. I do not think nor want to pretend that the past was better. It wasn’t. And even if it was – who cares? We’re here now. All I’m saying is that there seems to be a lack of care in the world. There are fewer and fewer customer care phone numbers and where there are you’ll be lucky to be answered within 20 minutes and for your call to be resolved. Everything is a hoohah and a palaver. And I am sick of it.
I was supposed to really sort my bedroom out this weekend.
Reader, I did not.
My flatmate sorted his out and bragged to me about it. My flatmate is a tosser.
I did learn that the metal bit surrounding a keyhole is called an escutcheon so who’s the real winner here? That’s right, me. I also learned that whoever fitted the keyhole, lock, and escutcheon on my flat door was a lunatic since they made the hole far too big for the escutcheon to be screwed into the door. I have therefore spent far too long putting Polyfilla in the hole and using a chopstick to ensure that the key can still go into the keyhole and then doing all of that all over again because I hadn’t allowed the Polyfilla to completely dry.
What I’m saying is is that although I did not “do my room” I did do things. Because I am a procrastinator. I know, we all are nowadays. With our ADHD and neurodivergence but sometimes this comes in handy. When else am I going to fix a keyhole **escutcheon**? And look at my skills with a chopstick and Polyfilla! Fall on your knees in praise at my resourcefulness. I’m a goddamn Renaissance man. Woman. PERSON.
Anyway, the keyhole is still not actually fixed but that is by the by. The bedroom is still a right state, but I’ll get to it later. Later. I’m off to do the washing up.
————————————————————————-
P.S. When are the things actually done? Is it not true that there is always fucking something? Look, pardon my actual French but I am suddenly overwhelmed with anger about the fact that everything needs doing all of the time. When can we just be done!? OK, when we’re dead but then other people need to do an awful lot of things then too. I need a lie down.
Vicky Goes On (Again) 