Autumn Trots On

The Royal Horse Artillery (or somesuch highfalutin’ gaggle of gee-gees – can’t say I noticed their name) trotted by my office last week. I was on the way to the bank and this parade strolled by, helicopters and police cars escorting them through the traffic on Marylebone Road. It made quite a nice lunchtime sight, although it still has some way to go to beat the time the Queen drove by the SFX office in Bath. I’ve also seen Prince Charles and Camilla driving down Marylebone Road and Tony Blair sped by my house once, too. S’funny, you kind of expect famous people to teleport or something… “Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need roads!”*


Incidentally, the meeting with the bank went better than I expected. Something like this, in fact:

Me: “Hello, my name’s Jayne Nelson. You may know me from such bank meetings as The Colour Of No Money, Dude, Where’s My Overdraft? and Apocalypse Credit Card. Today I’m bringing you I’ve Quit My Job: Please Can I Skip Some Loan Repayments?“**

Bank manager: “Er, sure. Let’s see what we can do.”

I’ve worked out that February next year will leave me so poor that church mice will think they’re doing quite well compared to me.

(Why are church mice supposed to be poor, by the way? They’ve got a roof over their heads, no cats to worry about and all the holy wafers they can eat. What else do they want from life? Xboxes? Their little paws would never get to grips with the buttons.)

My money drought should just be temporary, though, and it’s the price you pay for going freelance – the transition is tough. I’m still looking forward to it immensely. The challenges! The variety! The weight loss from lack of food! Woohoo!

At least I’m saving money on my heating bill; it’s stupidly warm at the moment. It’s November and it’s taken until this week for the trees outside my lounge window to go this colour. Some of them are still in full leaf! Oh, and that’s Twickenham Rugby Ground on the horizon, surrounded by cranes. Girls Aloud played there the other day. In my time here I’ve heard U2 and The Rolling Stones blaring from that stadium… thankfully I couldn’t hear the girls, so the prevailing winds driving the sound towards my window obviously have good music taste.

And now I really have to go because I have so many reviews and features to write this weekend I’m going to be dreaming about typing. As opposed to dreaming about zombies, which I did last night, and it SUCKED. (And so did they. Brains.)


* With apologies to Back To The Future.
** With apologies to Troy McClure from The Simpsons.

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4 Comments

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4 responses to “Autumn Trots On

  1. Anny

    church mice are poor because they don’t have a lovely country estate with wild grown nuts, berries and other wild grown mouse food types to eat and are not lucky enough to be friends super intelligent rats, who have electricity!!! my reply is just as random as that sub-thought of yours hehehe

  2. Jayne Nelson

    You’re having a bit of a NIMH day, aren’t you?

  3. Anonymous

    Or do you think the term relates to church mice being poor spiritually? After all they might not believe in God? I wonder if they’re Jedis…Jedi Mice sounds cool! Don’t worry about starving, I’ll send you regular care packages courtesy of Thorntons Direct. I take it you don’t mind if the food has no nutritional value? Hmmm, getting a flashback to an episode of Hercules involving a bunch of grapes! Why do I never dream of those things? Instead it was about the cast of Frasier and transporting into different worlds….

  4. Anonymous

    You’re lucky. My flat backs right on to Bath Rugby ground, which also plays host to the occassional gig. The other month we had:

    Friday night: Simply Red
    Satruday night: Elaine Page and Michael Ball
    Sunday night: Westlife

    In the space of one weekend. No wonder we hit the booze rather heavily that week.

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