The bells, the bells

I'd just got in from work and my doorbell rang. Not my external doorbell on the block of flats which makes a noise like an enraged metal detector, but the doorbell that's actually on the door to my flat. It plays the first two bars of "Oranges and Lemons". This was weird. Not the chime. I'm used to that. The fact that my doorbell rang means that it was someone from within my building who was calling on me. I live in London. I have lived in this flat for about two years. Of course, I have never spoken to any of my neighbours. I am not a freak.

I answered the door. It was a lady in her slippers. It would appear the oh-so-efficient council have allocated me a parking space... which she is also supposed to be parking in. She told me she'd been clamped previously outside the flat and was worried about the same thing happening again. I said that the council had told me that they didn't have any clamps, and they just towed people. She said, "Yes, that's right, they towed me." Technically not clamping then, really. But I can't talk. I managed to lose my Astra once in a very silly way (see http://laurasplog.blogspot.com/2006_03_01_laurasplog_archive.html).

The slipper lady story is admittedly not a particularly interesting anecdote, but to be honest, I'm struggling a bit today. I don't want to write about work stuff, as I think it's a good rule of thumb to separate my work and personal life. (i.e. I don't want to lose my job or get sued.) I don't want to write perjoratively about anyone who might be reading this blog, which rules out most of my friends and family. I don't like writing about love life stuff... because aside from the fact that my dad reads this, the bloke you're accusing of having a small willy / planning to marry / slept with his brother might stumble across the writings... again.

Which leaves me talking about my slipper-wearing neighbour and the not-terribly-interesting parking anecdote.

Sorry.