Mission 026: Where Susan gets her picture taken

I slept very heavily last night. So heavily in fact, that I didn't even stir when the Buckwell got up.
Instead, the alarm aurally bashed me awake at 7:10.

I was having a dream where the Buckwell and I were on a train to Iran. I was trying to speak Arabic to some Iranians on the train, and one of them kindly reminded me that they spoke Persian. Yet they were shaking my hand and saying 'Ahlan, Ahlan', which is 'Welcome' in Arabic. That's when they weren't speaking English to me – with a heavy Eastern European accent (hey, I don't know what Iranian accented English sounds like yet).

I don't know what it all means, but it has reminded me that I need to get a photo taken for my Iranian visa application for our intended visit in April, otherwise I'm not going to get it back in time. So that's my mission for today - file under boring but essential things to do.

Get to the back of the line

... to congratulate me. I successfully managed to avoid queues until the end of the week, and EVEN AT THE AIRPORT. Freakily, there were no queues at check-in, or at the luggage scanning bit.
I salute me. Or rather, my luck.

Mission 026 - Where Susan takes her chances

This morning I had a strange thing happen.

I went to register with a new doctor and get the obligatory health check. Nothing strange about that. The next bit is where it gets weird.

They couldn't go through with confirming my registration at the doctors because I was already on there. Or rather, there was somebody with my name living at my current address 4 years ago. Susan Wills, middle initial M, White Other, hazel eyes. But born 2 years after me, fatter, taller, a smoker and heavy drinker. (I probably shouldn't have looked at her records in the interests of patient confidentiality, but the nurse brought them up on the screen.)

This has spooked me just a little.

Given our birth years, I figured there's an even chance that the other Susan Wills would be on Facebook. So I looked. There are 11 Susan Willses on there. Only 2, including me, in London. Did the only other London Susan Wills live at the SAME address? If so, it disturbs me even more now that I have seen her face. Although I'm certainly not about to embark on a Dave Gormanesque experiment.

However, given the chances of this extremely bizarre event, I think it's only fair that my next mission is to buy a lottery ticket...

Mission 025 - Where Susan tries to save the world

First off, I’d like to declare that I am a greenie. Have been for years. Hell, I even had my own tree from when I was six. I used to hug it and everything. I am also a militant recycler and, until recently, was a co-leader of the voluntary Green Team at my workplace. And I was using carbon-neutral transport to get to work long before it was fashionable.

Right. Now that I’ve established my credentials, there’s something I want to get off my chest. (It’s been festering away a good while.) Is it just me, or is all this green business (and I don’t use the ‘b’ word lightly) becoming a bit too much like a religion? Suddenly, everywhere I look, there are avid greenies milling about high streets and websites everywhere. In droves, they are buying jute bags, devouring organic broccoli and converting their cars to bio-diesel.

It’s as if they’ve been born again – and they want the world to know. Like all new converts to a religion they are overzealous; they want everyone to join them in the Church of Green; to save the world from itself.

Yet what they don’t realise is that the Church of Green has been taken over by the Church of Commerce. And membership to that is not about how green your behaviour is - it’s about who buys the most green stuff. Ironic, really, as the key principle of sustainable living is REDUCE. Then comes REUSE. Then comes RECYCLE.

Now I didn’t see CONSUME MORE STUFF in there. Did you?

It’s all very well to be devouring eco-friendly options, but only if they replace less eco-friendly ones. For example, I have no truck with people who drive 5km to their ‘local’ farmers market in their SUVs. Or people who buy designer jute bags to do their shopping in, then continue to put all their vegetables in single plastic bags to be weighed. Adopt a wider view, people.

Green is becoming the status quo – its commercialisation grows every day. It’s been scooped up into the brand lifecycle and is feverishly working its way to cash cowdom as I write. We should all know the end result of commercialisation. Commodity. Then ennui. Which will mean the death of green. Although Commerce will go on.

So to save Green, better lose the preachiness, especially if you’re not the perfect apple-hued tone (and few of us are, surprise, surprise). Stop adopting the first, new, ‘cool’ green thing that comes along. Make being green an integral part of your life, not a clip on fashion accessory. I hate to take a line from one of the bishops in the Church of Commerce here, but it works: Just Do It. Or most of it. But whatever you do, please shut up and do it quietly. You’re boring me to death.


Psssst (whispered): My latest mission is to take the stairs instead of the lift for the next week, thus conserving precious planetary energy. And firming my flubbery, blubbery thighs.

I smell success

Yesterday, I thought that I may have reached a crisis in my mission to avoid queues.

I headed to one of the biggest queue-danger zones - the supermarket at lunchtime. There, I loaded up my basket and headed to the checkouts with trepidation. But when I got there (ominous jaws music...duuuum dum duuuuum dum) the queues were surprisingly small. Two people in each, at most.

So I took a calculated risk. I browsed the nearby nut display, while keeping a lookout for movement in the basket-only line, hoping that I'd spot a break in the queue.

And then it happened - a new checkout lane opened. I sprinted forward, narrowly missing a distracted, baguette-waving pensioner (I don't think the baguette was being waved at me) and practically threw my basket at the checkout fellow.

I am SUCH a sad piece of work.

But one more day of it and I will have completed my mission.

And another thing

Oh dear.

Now I remember one of the reasons why I am going to miss England. The English sense of humour.

On my internet meanderings, I came across this blog written by one of the writers for The Observer newspaper (incidentally, one of the few newspapers I buy).

It made me smile at work. And for that I thank him.

Mission 024 - Where Susan says no to queues

Well, once again it's a gloriously grey day here in Crawley, which has kept my mind well and truly focused on my work. No reason to gaze absent-mindedly across the carpark to the trees when I can't even see as far as the nearest car...
Once again I am reminded why it is time to leave England. I've never been anywhere where grey skies feel so oppressive. 7 years of it is enough.
In a couple of months, the Buckwell and I will depart England and go travelling. And for that, we'll need some rather impressive and possibly obscure visas (although I only have 10 spare pages in my current passport). I'm already mentally preparing for the embassy queues, another feature of English life that I'm not going to miss. Not everyone's dismayed by queues, mind you. I like how this blogger has embraced queues, turning them into a pastime.
However, I'm going to go to the other extreme. This week's mini-mission (it lasts until Friday afternoon, because then I am off to the airport, when I KNOW FOR A FACT it would be impossible) is to avoid all queues.

I foresee several challenging situations over the next few days.

Entering and exiting the train station
Getting on the train
Buying my lunch
Filling up my water bottle at the water cooler
Making tea
Buying drinks at the pub tonight
Buying food for dinner, washing detergent and toilet paper
Buying hair dye at the chemist
Telephoning the bank (yes, phone queues count too)

I will, of course, let you know how I get on.