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blamebramptonHad a lovely, if brief, night out at a friend's 40th last night. Alas, I went to spin class first, then rode my pub bike home for a shower, dress and out, while Mr B played computer games all afternoon. Which meant that I was actually buggered and starving by the time we got there, while he had a stiff back. Since the event involved a lot of alcohol and high heels (for me, not him), I confess I was happy to be a splitter after an hour or so.
And then, idiotically, I did not go to bed, but stayed up to get some work done, which meant that I slept in and was late getting up the mountains (the children I was visiting were incredulous that someone could sleep in until nearly lunch: 'But won't she be hungry if she misses breakfast?') It's two hours each way on the train, so this was a bit of a bother and meant I came home late. There are unwritten rules for the mountain trains: not just the quiet carriage, each has its own flavour, which is not apparent to outsiders until too late in most cases. On the way up I was in the family carriage, but most of the kids were fine, so I didn't change. On the way back I was in the alarming bogan carriage and listened to a lovely young couple shouting down the phone at an acquaintance who had apparently grassed up Mr Bogan and landed him in jail (I have the details for any interested parties. Jessica is apparently a big moll liar.)
They were so very loud I couldn't read, so I picked up my bags and walked out past them to go to the next carriage. 'Oh, sorry, were we disturbing you?' Mrs Bogan asked.
'A bit,' I replied, 'but more importantly, I think you're upsetting your baby with all the yelling.'
To do her credit, she looked down at the alarmed-looking baby and both recognised that it was alarmed-looking and immediately told her boy to shut up before hushing the infant.
I ended up in the tourist carriage and listened to a nice English boy explain to his Japanese-sounding friend how to make an omelet. AND my bloody arm is still sore. Physio on Tuesday! Don't break your whole body, kids! It will bit you in the bum in later years!
Anyway, I am calling it an early night, but to continue my good run of the last few days, HAPPY BIRTHDAY![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
themadpoker! I hope that everyone gave you great books or DVDs to add to your epic tally and that your studies are smoothly progressing!
And then, idiotically, I did not go to bed, but stayed up to get some work done, which meant that I slept in and was late getting up the mountains (the children I was visiting were incredulous that someone could sleep in until nearly lunch: 'But won't she be hungry if she misses breakfast?') It's two hours each way on the train, so this was a bit of a bother and meant I came home late. There are unwritten rules for the mountain trains: not just the quiet carriage, each has its own flavour, which is not apparent to outsiders until too late in most cases. On the way up I was in the family carriage, but most of the kids were fine, so I didn't change. On the way back I was in the alarming bogan carriage and listened to a lovely young couple shouting down the phone at an acquaintance who had apparently grassed up Mr Bogan and landed him in jail (I have the details for any interested parties. Jessica is apparently a big moll liar.)
They were so very loud I couldn't read, so I picked up my bags and walked out past them to go to the next carriage. 'Oh, sorry, were we disturbing you?' Mrs Bogan asked.
'A bit,' I replied, 'but more importantly, I think you're upsetting your baby with all the yelling.'
To do her credit, she looked down at the alarmed-looking baby and both recognised that it was alarmed-looking and immediately told her boy to shut up before hushing the infant.
I ended up in the tourist carriage and listened to a nice English boy explain to his Japanese-sounding friend how to make an omelet. AND my bloody arm is still sore. Physio on Tuesday! Don't break your whole body, kids! It will bit you in the bum in later years!
Anyway, I am calling it an early night, but to continue my good run of the last few days, HAPPY BIRTHDAY
themadpoker! I hope that everyone gave you great books or DVDs to add to your epic tally and that your studies are smoothly progressing!
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Date: 2012-07-15 01:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-15 01:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-15 01:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-15 01:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-15 01:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-15 01:26 pm (UTC)oh this i gotta hear. what does "grassed up" mean?
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Date: 2012-07-15 01:59 pm (UTC)'Grassed up' is discussed Mr Bogan's activities with the police. Apparently, Jessica, whose character is not to be trusted, has told not only the constabulary, but all of Lawson that Mr Bogan stole $5000 from her, which he loudly denies doing. He admits that he has done something to/stolen something from her – 'Yeah, yeah, I did take that but that's not what you told people, is it?' – but is outraged at this slur on his honour.
Mrs Bogan is both planning to send the boys around, and personally upset at the breakdown in her friendship with Jessica. 'Yeah, I know I still owe you that money, but I'm a MOTHER now and my baby is my PRIORITY ya fucken bitch. I don't understand why you're not my friend anymore, ya bitch whore.' (I, on the other hand, have an inkling.)
Mr Bogan took the phone back at this point and threatened Jessica with harm. She has apparently told him that she is recording the conversation and taking it to the police, which has caused a further breakdown in their relationship.
Abuse has been shouted at the phone, at which point Jessica has hung up. 'I can't believe she hung up! What a BITCH!' was Mr Bogan's astonished response to this. When he redialled, they were *shocked* that she did not pick up.
Jess has then apparently called several mutual acquaintances, as shortly after Mr Bogan was fielding calls and loudly denying that anyone had threatened Jessica with harm and alleging that it was yet more lies and that could be anyone's voice on that recording.
I feel Mr Bogan is not one of this fine nation's Intellectual Giants. I can only hope the poor wee bairn has some lovely grandparents.
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Date: 2012-07-16 10:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-17 01:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-15 03:16 pm (UTC)It's good thatyou are in bed now. Very sensible. *nods*
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Date: 2012-07-17 01:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-15 04:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-17 01:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-15 10:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-17 01:24 pm (UTC)There should be a handy dictionary!
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Date: 2012-07-16 02:06 am (UTC)(Or the bloke seated not quite enough seats behind me on a night train home when I was doing a locum at Westmead. Casually discussing his previous for manslaughter. D:) ACK, SYDNEY; this never happens on other cities trains.
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Date: 2012-07-17 01:27 pm (UTC)In Italy and England I have listened to enormously detailed accounts of people's extra-marital affairs and the complicated cheating and salacious sex involved, but never once their criminal records. In France, elaborate business discussions that I could only understand a portion of. I prefer the inner city where it's usually hipsters trying to out-cool each other with obscure bands. It's those Shire and Westie trains that are the spooky ones!