I saw the saddest thing today in M&S

Today I went to M&S for underwear shopping. I wandered around aisles of impractical lace covered things that would invariably jut out under t-shirts and plain-boring-rough-cotton-white things. I also saw the saddest thing ever, next to what was probably belongs to freaks of nature: cotton white 32 AA bras with cups half the side of my already small palms and I-forgot-what-number G cups with cups the size of my head. Other than that there were the great mysteries of the earth to reckon with, like why women with D cup boobs need push ups and additional padding, in twin packs too.

I also incidentally, cooked. Some sort of garbled Chicken Tomato and Broccoli Pasta (Salad):
300g Chicken Breast - 2.39
6 Tomatoes - 1.02
1 Head Broccoli - 85p
1 Sainsbury's Tomato and Herb Sauce - 85p
Rosemary
Garlic and Mash Seasoning
White Ground Pepper
Fusilli.

It was the first time I had ever dealt with broccoli, and mid boil I had to scamper downstairs and google 'How to Cook Broccoli'. Nice stuff. The answer is 4 to 7 minutes, or in my case till I deliberately waited till I could smell the scent of cooked broccoli.

I also lost my temper today because I missed my stop at Euston. I was on bus 73 to Stroke Newington and boarded outside Selfridges. There was a girl in front of me, also waiting to alight. Our exit was blocked by this old man and woman shuffling into their seats. Okay, no problem. Then just as they moved out of the way, the other girl and I went to the exit of the bus, only to have it close 1 second before we stepped out. The girl started calling out, the people around started pressing the Stop button to help us, and the bus driver drove on to fucking British Library.

My first thought was to let out one large almighty FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK at the driver. My mood had been exacerbated by being stuck in traffic for a long time along Oxford Street. Then my next thought was 'what if I get in trouble for it?'. So instead like a good downtrodden citizen, I just stewed. But the word stayed in my head. FUCK BRITISH LIBRARY. FUCK 4 EXTRA BLOCKS FOR NO REASON. FUCKING MORON DRIVER. FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK. I wanted to scream it all the way back to Euston, but there were too many people around. Not that I haven't done that before in London, when I stepped out of Barclay's with Daryl. Then I saw piles of snow in Euston, and felt the urge to really kick it about all over, but I restrained myself. Instead, I went back and complained to every single friendly face I saw in Passfield.

Well, that and muttering fuuuuuuuuuuccckkkkkk all the way back from the British Library and Euston.