vent and spout

1: I arrived at my employment-location this morning in a reasonable mood until I reached the changing-room to discover that someone had hung a clothes-hanger supporting a shirt and tie from the bit of plastic housing the number-indicator and lock mechanism of my locker. I'd previously noticed that this bit of plastic wasn't as flat against the door surface of my locker as similar bits of plastic were against other lockers' doors' surfaces but had just assumed that I was perhaps unlocking the door a bit too hard or something. There's a perfectly good top-of-the-locker for hanging clothes hangers from if the proper clothes-hanger-holding rail two feet away isn't sufficient. There were a few people about but none of them reacted when I detached the hanger and stared at it for a moment (allowing me to surmise that the shirt and presumably also the accompanying tie belonged to one of the people currently showering) so I just hung it on the hanger-rail before unlocking the now-de-obscured locker lock and retrieving my officewear from within. As it only takes a minute to get changed when not performing such pointless tasks as spending twenty minutes looking in the mirror whilst getting the row of buttons down the front of the shirt EXACTLY in line with the button of the waistband of the trousers (unlike the two people half-blocking the door by doing so whilst barking business-speak at each other (or possibly their own reflections)) I was ready to leave before any of the showering-people emerged. I'd wondered if leaving a small note of the slightly patronising variety was required and recalled that there was half a slab of smallish Post-Its inside (left in a shirt pocket after a meeting about a year ago, discovered when leaving that day but never quite remembered sufficiently to be replaced in my desk upstairs) with which a left note could be constructed. Unfortunately I had no tape with which to pointedly tape the bit of plastic against the locker door surface, preventing hooking-onto. I eventually just put a blank Post-It on the top of the bit of plastic, reasoning that it need not say anything as it should be perfectly obvious why it was there, though I doubt anyone destructive enough to wedge a thickish ball-ended hook into the space it had been wedged into would care that their actions might eventually cause the bit of plastic to detach, potentially detaching the lock from the door and allowing the stuff in my locker to be stolen. Not normally a problem if it only contained shirts and trousers but potentially an issue if I left my wallet in my shorts one day instead of sticking it in my bag. Plans are being planned in case of a repeat and I shall take some thick tape into work later this week to stick the plastic back against the door.

2: It is rare that people in a cinema are so crass and twatfaced as to speak at a volume more appropriate for speaking to each other on a busy traffic-filled street corner but it unfortunately befell me to end up sitting just in front of one of them this evening for Thirst at the Filmhouse, a Korean film fiddling with the vampire format by making the main vampire protagonist a vicar. One of the people spoke in the standard cinema-mumble, perhaps in what might even have been interpreted as in a way which sought to encourage her companions to perhaps likewise reduce their volume, another in what might have been a quietish voice had he not of a particular type of person often stereotyped as being exceptionally loud and one in the middle who spouted utter shit at considerable volume, laughed at all her own jokes, laughing at non-jokes, inventing facts just to be able to seem clever and generally barking and snorting her way up the moron-scale remarkably swiftly. Speaking through the adverts is almost acceptable but less so during the trailers and none showed any real sign of comprehension that there were other people present who might prefer them to have shut the fuck up at some point by the time the last trailer finished. At this point the sound of speaking was joined by the sound of the clicking of the keypad of a portable telephone which he fortunately eventually seemed to turn off perhaps a couple of seconds before the BBFC notification-screen appeared. Magically, most sound ceased during the titles after a brief head-turn-glare. To give them a very small amount of credit (and possibly more than they deserve) they were almost silent during the film (apart from the occasional far-too-long cackle) until the closing credits, the appearance of which were marked by two (presumably) sarcastic utterances of "Yowza." from the barely-switching-off-phone-in-time not-really-quiet voice of the man, presumably to indicate his sophistication and wit even though it wasn't a particularly bad film. Fortunately no-one was sitting to my right, meaning that I could leave without delay rather than having to listen to them any further.

3: I dread to think what the streets will be like in sixty years' time. Today, codgers possess the uncanny knack of being able to drift slowly sideways into the gaps through which one was planning to overtake them. This year's intake of students seem amazingly adept at being able to suddenly stop their already-lethargic trouser-impeded waddling through the aisles of the supermarket just as they reach the narrow space between a protruding stock-cage and a shelf, completely blocking the aisle until their next thought turns up and they resume moving. What are they going to be like by the time they're eighty if they continue to develop such impediment-skills at the same rate?