Left of centre

Stuck for inspiration, here is my "England Hockey" highlighter block (4 pens in one!) which was a freebie from the sports college conference a few weeks back (when I was being a stationery whore and snaffling all the free pens, postit notes, highlighters and other such frippery that I could get my hands on).

Left of centre? Why. Its been a left of centre, off kilter day.

The highlight of my day was stopping at the petrol station this afternoon. Was tempted to get my camera out, but seriously considered that it might be a risk to my personal health.

I was happily putting diesal in my lovely car, as it was running on fumes, when a red sporty hatchback pulled up. The driver got out, and I know you shouldn't judge people on appearances, but he looked like a GRADE A SCALLY. Music pumping, he has trouble opening the petrol cap, then realises that the pump is on the wrong side of the car! Doh. Then his mate gets out of the car. No question here - appearances were the least of the worries....go straight to the top of the Scally Class. Passenger numpty gets out of the car (the petrol pumps are on his side) with what looks like a lit cigarette in his mouth. He then walks across the forecourt with lit cigarette in his mouth, almosts gets to the main building then comes back, looks frantically in the car for something. All the time the lit cigarette is in his mouth. Remember that. Then the driver is shoutign and asking him what he is doing, and stands back up and realises the thing he is looking for has been on his person the whole time. You know what he was looking for? The lit cigarette.

I just thought they were stupid.

Nope.

I watched feller-me-lad go into the station, still with lit fag in his mouth, walk in, pays, walks back across the forecourt and gets into his car.

I shake my head and tut (tutting makes me feel better!). Then I go into the garage.

And suddenly, the reason for the confusion and random behaviour becomes abundantly, and fragrantly, apparent.

For it wasn't any ordinary cigarette. And no, it wasn't a Marks and Spencer cigarette. It was a giant doobie/spliff/joint depending on the lingo that you use. And numpty passenger had just continued smoking it in the garage. Nobody had challenged him (he looked like a bit of a hard case) and the whole place reeked of cannabis.

Did they drive off?

Nope - they parked up, on the forecourt, and finished their smoke. Probably both stoned off their tiny minds.

Frightening.

At least my disbelief took my mind off the fact that one of my classes today was a nightmare (toooooooo much chat) and that as a result I had 8 kids back at catch-up session for an hour after school.

Grrrr.

Early night.