I don't usually call myself names-unless they're things like wonderful, and fabulous, of course. During lockdown I decided that everyone would benefit from being as kind to themselves as possible, given that we might all be dead tomorrow anyway. Let's all give ourselves compliments - if we don't, who else will?
But-this morning I looked in the mirror and saw Grumpy Pants looking back at me. And I went into Marks and Spencer for some food, and spent some time looking (carefully, obviously, because who wants to have the crap beaten out of them because some moron says they're staring) at other shoppers. It was an eye-opener, that is for sure.
If I'm Grumpy, then I didn't have to look far for the other six dwarfs. They were coming past me two by two.
During the pandemic, people were uncharacteristically polite. Some were even helpful. And now, three and a half (approximately) years later, they're all back to their nasty, rude, obnoxious, stupid selves. They don't look where they're going, they expect someone on crutches to sprint out of their way, and most of them are just generally a huge pain in the ass.
So Grumpy is justifiable in my view. That should be the number one baby's name this year. Or any year. I admit to sometimes wondering what would happen if some nitwit on a bike rode up onto the pavement (which they do regularly), no helmets, no lights on their bikes, no license plates (handy so that someone could identify the body) and some elderly bloke on one of those four wheelers rode into him and tossed him in front of a moving bus... I'm waiting for that to happen, just so I could have a good laugh.
Grumpy is good. Irascible might be better...
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