Gave £10.00 to RNID (Total: £728.18)

Oh dear, it looks like I've been selfish for over two years, but - actually - I hope I've been anything but. What I have been, is terribly busy, but still. Ought to get this finished really, especially since I mentioned it to my mum yesterday and she was a little surprised I hadn't finished yet. Mind to the task and all that...

Whilst I know I've given lots to charity over the last two years, doesn't really count if I haven't put it here. So I'm going to start blogging my updates again and might as well begin with the £10.00 I gave to RNID yesterday. You see, they'd asked me to fill out a survey they had sent me in the post, which I did, although I'm not too sure I needed all the 'gifts' that they sent me as well. Seems sort of sad they have to make it so easy for people to give, or perhaps that's just sensible. See, I gave. The survey was something I could have filled out online, and was just asking me if I was aware of certain facts [I wasn't]. They'd sent me a pen 'to make it easy for you to fill out' and a set of labels with my address on and their logo. They also sent me stickers of the alphabet in sign language and even a pre-paid envelope for me to return my survey in. Probably all costing far more than a tenner, but hey.

Anyway, back on a roll. And now I can say thank you in sign too.

Whoooooop.

Gave £1 to a chap sitting outside Homebase after I'd returned my trolley (total: £718.38p)

You may remember this darn Homebase store, it was where the strange man was muttering to himself and kicking a bucket, although - not his bucket... Anyway and there we go and on we pop... This time, there was a little chap with a yellow collecting type thing, not kicking a bucket, who was collecting on behalf of Daisy Chain, who seem to have quite a strange strap-line to their charity, if you will humbly excuse me saying so ('special needs, needs special care?'). Anyway, having spent ten minutes trying to explain I wanted a fucking composter not fucking compost to a man that seemed to have learnt his words off a spreadsheet and nothing else, I was able to return my trolley and give the man the £1 I'd had to bloody put in the thing just to walk wonder round a store where they sold little of what I actually wanted, but several crass gnomes and plenty of plastic pieces for the perfect summer landfill... 

I sound terribly uncharitable don't I? Gosh. But you try and rock Homebase and be nice afterwards. Grrrr.... 

Image grabbed from here, sorry. 

Gave £2 to a chap playing the saxophone 'cos it reminded me of New York (total: £717.38p)

I don't know why a lonely guy playing the saxophone reminded me of New York, but he did... perhaps because it was late, and the sunny strollers of a Sunday were slouching their way across the streets of Angel, or perhaps it was the moon that was all light and louche, or perhaps it was Kate was leaving for New York the next day, but whatever it was - it was one of those times I loved London, even though I was thinking of New York... 

Image taken from here, sorry. 

Gave £2 to a guy that sang me and Roxy a little song before going a little too far (total: £715.38p)

Roxy and I were outside work when a chap came along asking for money... He was singing us a little song, which was ever so sweet and then - sort of wasn't. 'Cos suddenly he wasn't singing about Roxy's leg (he only referred to one leg, saying the other one had a ladder in it so he wouldn't sing about that) but then he was talking about, well other parts of Roxy and we sort of just went 'oh, okay, you can stop now'... 

He didn't sing to me, he said I had a nice figure but I was hiding it under clothes. Cripes - two guys in one week telling me off about my dress sense - touch harsh huh?

Gave £1 to a guy singing Johnny Cash at Tottenham Court Road (Total: £713.58p)

I was leaving work with Colman after Ian had been berating me for only wearing black... I explained it was because I was a Cash copy... 

Well, you wonder why I always dress in black,

Why you never see bright colours on my back,

And why does my appearance seem to have a somber tone.

Well, there's a reason for the things that I have on...

Because Topshop's a copy-cat wench and ruined everything. That's why...

So anyway, Concussed Colman (he really was) and I were getting the tube to Tottenham Court Road together, and he was singing me this song and then - as we got off at the other end - a busker was singing Johnny too... So I gave him a pound, because it seems coincidence offensive not to...

Fucking Topshop. 

Image taken from here - thanks.  

Gave a penny (yes, only a penny) change to the Marie Curie fund box type thing in Tescos(£712.58p)

I know, I know, it's only a penny but every penny counts. And anyway, I'm trying to keep track of things this time. So there. 

You could perhaps give a little more here and put my completely to shame (I shall, however, point out I've worked with poor little lost monkeys and grab a bit of pride back)... 

Gave £2 to a guy that had a maverick moral to tell (Total: £712.57p)

Friday night must be a smashing time for people asking for money, if - well, any time could be smashing. Perhaps profitable would be a more kindlier word. Yes, kindlier is a word too.

Anyway, there we were, heaving and hogging the pavement outside the pub on the corner on a Saturday night; drinking, spilling, talking, spending, when along comes a rather red-cheeked, happy looking chap, cup-in-hand, asking for money. Now, it's pretty difficult to say you haven't got any, especially since you've probably just been over-heard declaring 'It's my round! What'll you have!' at the top of your proud, rich, I've-Just-Got-Paid voice so the chances are, you'll dip delve in to your paid pockets and pull something out. Perhaps you'll even be drunk enough to only look at it briefly before passing it on, bar-bound and smiling at the office-crush about how caring (slash rich) you are, and nothing of the Bateman sort at all. Now, everyone in my group ignored the red faced wanderer, perhaps because they've got more than used to his face than they'd like (thank you very much) but I, being the new girl at work, had never seen The Red Cheeked One before, so did indeed dip and delve albeit without office crush to grin glitter at. Whereas the wire-man didn't get a look in on the old £2, this beggar boy did (oh come on, I like alliteration, I'm not being mean). Cheeks a-flushing more than ever, he thanked me, before telling me and the group (happy now that someone else had paid) 'Wherever you are in life. You're there'

Aesop would have been proud. What wise words from the red one. 

See you there then.

Gave 57p to a man that wanted to write my name in wire (total £710.77p)

There was a man outside work the other day who was begging (his words, not mine) but felt compelled to give people something in return, hence offering to write my name in wire for me (would rather have my name in lights, but hey and how kind). I didn't have the time to let him wire write my name, for which he seemed terribly upset about, but I gave him the money I had in my pocket, save for a big gold £2.00 because I needed that for my lunch. I know, what a bitch. Would you look at me. 

Image taken from here without one word of please or thank you either, badly wired, wounding me. 

Gave Lord Byron £10 even though he was nothing of the sort (Total: £710.20p)

A couple of weeks ago I saw this chap on Carnaby Street, by the shiny shop actually, and thought how eccentric and marvellous he looked. Later on, in the evening, when I had perhaps had as much to drink as he had done for breakfast, I saw him sitting by the bar I was going to, and so I stopped to talk to him. He was, he told me, Lord Byron. Something that I adamantly explained to my friends later as 'probably true'. I had, after all, recognized him (in that sort of, three glasses of wine later recognition way, which isn't terribly clear eyed or crystal clean in any way) and we sat around musing what a charming, crazed character he indeed was. 

Lord Byron is, of course, dead. Dead, done, gone. Who on earth this chap was, therefore, I'll never know. But hell, he had green gems on his fingers as big as the Ritz, and he let me take his picture, sat proud of his past, and glittered gladly on London's luminous streets. I don't give a damn who he was, I liked him. 

Brought Ruby Eyes for a Skull with Wings £40.00 (Total: £700.20p)

May I remind you, before you tell me off for spending money on myself, that I am allowed. Mainly because I make up the rules. Super... 

I recently brought a nice little skull with wings, which doesn't sound nice at all, but I thought it was a bit like an angel dancing with the devil, something I have done once down the A40 past eleven on a school night... I brought it from the place that I buy all my shiny things from, the same place Ozzy Osbourne buys his - although I would like to think the similarities stop there. I can't show you a picture, as their website is under construction, but - buying the little, pretty-ish thing, I thought how nice it would be if the face had eyes, so I brought him Rubies for eyes, and that - apparently - is how you spell the plural of Ruby. Gosh don't we learn a new thing every day. 

I took the image from here, sorry about that, but my, what big jewels you've got. 

Ruby. With Eyes.