Hola. Hope you are well.
I feel in this current climate, that I should mention none of the info on this blog has been sourced from hacking into other people’s voicemails. Mainly because I think it’s wrong and partly because I’m rubbish with phones. I’d struggle to retrieve my own messages nevermind those on someone else’s phone.
To be honest, I’m not sure what info the journalists/private detectives were hoping to get by listening in on voicemails. Afterall who leaves sensitive info on a voicemail? My voicemails generally consist of people asking me to ring them back, or people not leaving messages, that’s as salacious as my messages get.
Having said that, if your job involves listening into phone messages of missing children and/or the parents of dead soldiers, then maybe you should consider a change in career.
Talking of the News of the World. I went into 2 supermarkets yesterday, not to buy a copy but I would have had a flick through. I would have, if there had been any copies left. It would appear that being its last ever edition has helped its sales figures. It’s made me think I should make people think this is my last blog post and watch the hits go out of control.
For those who are regular readers of the NOTW, I wouldn’t worry too much as I’m sure there will be a new publication out any time soon, called ‘The World of News’ (or more likely the Sunday Sun).
And one final thing to mention about this story, is that my friend told me former editor of NOTW Andy Coulson lives in the same part of London as I do, which could prove handy as I’d still like to get into the media world and maybe he could be my mentor. And if the worst happens for Andy, my years of doing writing workshops in prisons will mean I wouldn’t get fazed if he had to do the sessions from behind bars.
Talking of where I live brings me on to my next story. I live in a flat, which is part of a bigger apartment which means we share the same front door. The other evening that front door was wide open when I was leaving. It was so wide open I assumed one of the people in the building must have been doing something out the front. Although I couldn’t see any of the neighbours out, I still assumed this was the case. It was only when I was sat at the train station thinking about it, it dawned on me that it wouldn’t look good if all the flats got robbed and I’d have to say I walked out the door and left it wide open, despite not seeing any of the neighbours around.
So I decided I’d have to go back and lock the door, but things were made more complicated by the fact my train was now due in 5 mins and I had to get that train as I was meeting ‘Her With One Permanent Job’ to drop off a dress (she was going to wear at a wedding) and she was on a time constraint as she was getting a specific train back to Manchester.
This meant I had to leg it back to the flat, where the door was as wide open as when I’d walked through it, so I quickly locked it and then had to hot foot it back to the station, just in time to catch my train. A Result! The only downside being, I got charged £1:30 for touching in and then out on my Oyster Card despite the fact I hadn’t actually travelled anywhere.
A couple of weeks ago on this blog I mentioned how I’d played 11-a-side football for the first time that I can remember and how it was tough. Well I surprised myself by playing again, I say this because normally when I find something difficult I generally try to avoid doing it again. Having said that this time was definitely easier than the previous time. I also played better, clearing one off the line and winning a penalty. I use the would ‘winning’ some would say I dived, but as the person who made the offending challenge was Prong 2 (from 3 Prong Attack) so it didn’t feel as bad as it could have done. Plus his side were way ahead at the time with only minutes left.
After the last game, when instead of a cool down I sat around talking about how tough it was and then went to the pub, resulting in me being stiff for days, I decided I’d do things differently. So this time after the game I sat around talking about how it wasn’t as tough as last time and then went to the pub. I expect to ache for the next few days.
And Finally… My favourite thing that happened in the school I’m in was that the other TA in the class saw one of the children flick his middle finger up at another boy. So she told him off, and then told the teacher, who told him off, who sent him off to the deputy head, who told him off. It was only afterwards when talking the situation over with his mum, that it was discovered he was showing the other boy that he had no finger nail on that finger. He had no concept of the raising of the middle finger being a bad thing. He probably does now.
Til next week, stay safe!