Your rabbit can do what??

There is a lady at my current place of work who has a strange obsession. Rabbits.

It’s impossible not to notice her weird fetish – a mere stroll past her desk will have you staring in wonderment at her shrine to potentially the most pointless animal on the planet.

The array of different pictures of rabbits that she has is mind boggling – there are cartoon rabbits, rabbits sketched in pencil on fancy paper and there is even a watercolour of 2 rabbits frolicking in a meadow surrounded by buttercups.

It is so weird.

Her collection of rabbit art also encompasses humorous birthday cards with rabbits doing slightly wacky things like eating giant carrots and wearing sunglasses whilst drinking cocktails. Those crazy rabbits.

The lady in question has also managed to accumulate an impressive selection of newspaper cuttings which involve rabbits doing things that are worthy to get in the newspaper which I find it hard to get my head around. It must have been a slow news day that day.

I have to confess that there is one article that does look rather interesting even to a rabbit sceptic like myself. Unfortunately I have not been able to get close enough to confirm my suspicions but from craning my neck to get a good look, the centrepiece of her ‘Wall of Rabbits’ appears to be an article about a swimming rabbit. Now that is what I call news.

I suppose it makes sense that rabbits would be good swimmers seeing as they have massive feet but I fail to understand how their little hands would help them propel themselves through the water. Maybe these animals that sit around all day munching slightly-rotten veg are in fact harbouring a secret passion for busting out the goggles and swimming cap and doing a few lengths to blow off some steam. These clumsy animals who make us laugh with the ineffective way that they hop around, could in fact be incredibly graceful when gliding through the water. I just don’t see it but it does make me wonder how much more exciting people would consider rabbits if they could swim.

The more I thought about this, the more I just couldn’t fathom that a humble bunny wabbit would be able to swim so I decided to go in. With zero fear for my own safety around the lady who is obsessed with rabbits, I sauntered past and casually started up a conversation about the newspaper article. I also took a second to notice that she was writing with a pen that, naturally, had a rabbit on the end. Seriously, I could understand the obsession if it were about an animal that did something, you know, a shark, a tiger, maybe a horse but I just couldn’t get my head around her rabbit fetish.

Then I glanced away from the creepy pen and read the article…..

Rather than it being about a swimming rabbit as I originally anticipated, it was about a rabbit who had become an internet sensation for his amazing ability to balance things on his head including tea cups, fruit and waffles. Don’t believe me? Check it out here.

Now, I get the obsession. I eat my words. That is awesome. Where can I get one of those rabbit pens?

I just want to get home....

I’m baffled. Why oh why do people insist on flocking to Oxford Street in London to do their Christmas shopping? It may well be iconic for being ‘the’ place to shop in London but I can tell you now, this place is hell on earth. In fact, if it was possible to kick Oxford Street in the shins or even pinch it on that extra painful bit behind the arm – then I would do it in an instant. I hate Oxford Street. Who cares if its Christmas.

I have just spent the last hour battling through the crowds hell bent on getting their festive shopping done even though there is not enough floor space in the whole area to accommodate the hoards of panic buying shoppers who’ve journeyed to London from around the country to snap up what is already available on their local high street. There are literally people everywhere and they all have a steely look of determination in their eyes which says; “get out of my way or I will trample you to the ground and then smack you upside the head with my 15 Primark bags”. Trust me, they mean it.

It’s like central London has been taken over by some kind of virus but instead of turning humans into zombies, it has turned them in to psychopathic shoppers who’s manners have been long forgotten.

Lets not forget that we are in England. We are known worldwide as having excellent manners. (that and binge drinking) Just watch any American film which has to briefly portray a room of British people and we are inevitably shown as tea drinking, crumpet eating posh twits who say please and thank you too much and more often than not, have suspicious facial hair. If those film makers could see us at Christmas time – they would seriously change their opinions.

I feel that I am one of the minority who have remembered that physical violence against ones peers is not the done thing and have clung on tight to the manners that my parents instilled in me. I know for one that if I bash into anyone on the street I don’t stop and glare at them menacingly daring them to stand up again just so that I can knock them down. Not like my fellow shoppers. No, I apologise profusely, even if I just grazed their handbag. My resolve is wearing thin though I tell you. If I trip over one more suitcase that someone has conveniently decided to bring with them to the busiest street in London, at rush hour, then I will not be responsible for my actions.

The relief I experience at leaving the office at the end of the day is short lived. Inevitably, the tube is closed because of over crowding which means I have to get a bus. Fine. I’ve lived in London a while now, I can handle public transport issues, it goes hand in hand with any commute. What I cant handle is people charging at you from all angles, lost in their own thoughts of what to procure their loved ones for Christmas and all the while staring in wonderment at the (largely underwhelming) Christmas lights. The lights don’t make me feel Christmassy – they make me angry.

If any of you were avid ‘Gladiators’ watchers in the 90’s then I feel that you will understand what I go through everyday at 5 o’clock. Recall, if you will, the game ‘The Gauntlet’. The rules were easy. The competitor had to get to the other end of the track. Simples. However, in their way were 5 angry Gladiators with various weapons just waiting to take them down. My journey home is exactly the same – apart from no-one is wearing a leotard. The Gladiators are replaced with shoppers and the weapons are replaced with shopping bags, trolleys, suitcases, bikes, prams and anything large that’s going to hurt you if you collide with it. At least at the end of Gladiators you won something. Here, the only thing that you win is your right to walk down the street and get home in one piece.

The weird thing is that the crowds just don’t seem to subside – in fact, they seem to grow on a daily basis. The one thing that I am grateful for is that my hatred of Christmas shopping and members of the general public led me to complete all of my shopping in a record 1 hour and 10 minutes. I can only attribute what must be an international world record to my daily training on Oxford Streets’ own version of the Gladiators. At least it’s good for something.

Let it snow............

For any of you who are lucky enough to be in warmer climes, think yourself lucky.

As we speak, I am in my house, the heating is up so high that the boiler is shaking with the physical exertion and I am wearing four different layers, tights and two pairs of socks. Brilliant.

No amount of hot chocolate is helping - in fact I am angry at all warm drink manufacturers who claim that their products can make you warm inside. They are lying, or they are targeting people who already have a body temperature of above freezing.

When I awoke on Tuesday morning, crawled out of bed, drank my obligatory pint of tea and noticed that it was snowing outside - I was full of joy. Snow! Who doesn't love it? It's magical and it's nearly Christmas. What more could we hope for?

The reality is entirely different.

Once you get past how pretty it is you realise that snow is nothing but a massive pain in the ass. Walking anywhere involves putting on as many layers as you can whilst still being able to do up your coat, wearing the only hat that you own and that you hate but that you are forced to wear otherwise the wind whistles into your ears and makes your brain say: " Amy, go back to bed". All this just to get some milk for your cereal.

It has made me realise why hibernation is a good idea. Our furry friends have it right. I would happily stay inside all winter and feast on the supplies that I had so cleverly been hoarding for the past months. I bet all those hibernating animals are drinking mulled wine in their nests, busting out their miniature nutcrackers to free those tasty delights that they have stored up and laughing at the stupidity of us humans.

Walking anywhere is an absolute nightmare. No matter how much grip your shoes have, walking on sheets of ice is not easy. People are falling over left right and centre. Ordinarily, I would find this highly amusing but its a whole different story when I too am one of those idiots. There is no avoiding it, you just have to learn to fall with grace...or convince yourself that that is what you are doing. My normal 10 minute jaunt to the tube station is now a 20 minute death slide of pain and humiliation.

Another annoyance which comes hand in hand with snow is that everyone seems to lose the ability to have a conversation about anything other than the snow and how disruptive it is to our transport system. BORED.

I appreciate that extreme weather is indeed a talking point but after you have established that, yes - it is cold and yep - journeys anywhere are a nightmare, can't we just stop talking about it and get on with being actual interesting people who have opinions and thoughts on anything aside from the weather?

I know I sound miserable but when you are running out of warm clothes, nothing clean will dry in your ice box of a flat and you have fallen down on average, thrice a day since Jack bloody Frost decided to stroll into town - you too would be cranky.

Now i'm off to fill up my hot water bottle, grab another pair of socks and have yet another hot chocolate.