Saturday, 20 December 2014

Are you feeling lucky Punk, well are ya?

I vacillate between thinking I am the luckiest person alive and thinking that the only luck I have is bad. I live a pretty charmed life, but in terms of winning stuff, well I just don't rate.

I almost never enter competitions or buy lotto tickets etc, cos I never win, so when there was a competition at an online blog that I read and laugh along with,  I jotted down my answer as to why I wanted this basket and didn't give any more thought than correcting the spelling.

Sometime later I got an email asking for my details, cos bugger me, I was a winner. Winner winner chicken dinner! Even now, after a week of having my lovely basket with me, I can still hardly believe that I won it.

I let know that the postie had in deed delivered my goodie and that I would let them know how it spent the summer.

It has had a very busy week. Firstly she loaded up some towels and hats and factor 50 and took  Zig off to the beach. What a fine old time was had. I reckon that my knee was the best it has been without exaggeration, for years. We all look forward to Zig's return when it will be into the flagged surf for all of us. Yippee!

Then she carried some Christmas shopping and went for a ride on the new Goldie trams. She found the trams with all the advertising on them more than a little claustrophobic, but the clear skins were much better, with wonderful unhindered views. Both she and I are hoping that ALL the trams are not pimped out to the highest bidder. When we were catching the tram back to the car, there was some old fool at the ticket machine. Well really, we all figured he must have escaped from the loonie-tunes, cos he had no idea what he was doing and the tram was coming NOW. I had swiped my Go card, but I needed to get Zig a ticket. The old bloke just wouldn't move and short of crash tackling him out of the way, or waiting for the next tram which might possibly have been covered in plastic wrap, we had to jump onto the tram.....WITHOUT A TICKET.

To say Zig was shitting himself is only a slight exaggeration. Once we had plopped ourselves down we did a reconnoitre and spied, oh dear....THE TICKET INSPECTORS. Zig nearly passed out. He didn't care about the unGlad wrapped tram or the pretty view or the strange people on the tram. He just watched the Inspectors coming closer and closer. I kept thinking that I hardly looked like some fare dodger and had in fact paid for mine anyway and didn't figure that anyone carrying a sweet looking basket would get booked for fare evasion. Zig was not convinced. I  can't imagine that he will follow his Ma's example if he's ever in Amsterdam. I bet he will never ride the trams there all day every day for a week, all the while preparing to show any inspector who asked, my tour ferry ticket, which I knew was not valid on the trams but thought I'd (and did) get away with it by playing up the language differences.

'Can we get off here please Ma?'

We were 2 stops from home and Zig kept saying, 'We should get out here Ma.' But it was hot and I was feeling lucky, I had my lucky basket with me after all. The inspectors were chatting to some bloke a bit further down and on the stop before ours, they frog marched the bloke off the tram onto the platform, cos, oh shit, he hadn't bought a ticket! This meant that we were ok to stay on for one more stop. I 'touched out' as you do when we got off and saw that my trip was a freebie too. Maybe all that panic was for nothing. Maybe a fare is good for a certain period of time, or maybe the good luck basket fairy was just being benevolent and rewarding me for taking her on an outing with a very good looking little bloke.

Yeh this ensemble was selected specially by Zig himself.

She has also spent a lively couple of hours sitting on the floor at the Holland Park Pub.  She really is a well mannered, well behaved, perfectly respectable basket and I am so pleased to be able to stop wondering if my bag matches my thongs, cos this girl goes with everything.

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