Here's a loonie, there's a loonie

The funny thing about working in the City is the sheer number of lunatics that one encounters everyday. And I'm not (necessarily) talking about the workplace lunatic. I mean the REAL breed of loonie that lurk all around this fair City, to accost me at every turn.


Lunatics are those people ambling down the Mall yelling to themself, or those people who jump ahead of me in coffee shops, clearly misunderstanding a line-up when they see one. Come on people - there is a reason I am standing directly behind someone. It's called a queue, dummy. And while it is rather British of me to love the queue, it is also quite a civilised way to conduct business, don't you agree?


In terms of men, I am a weirdo magnet. Now a weirdo is quite different to a lunatic, in the sense that weirdos tend to be commitment-phobes; attracted to my friends; or interested in things like guns or collecting dolls.


So while the weirdos are annoying, the loonies can be mildly amusing. And I suppose the Bleeding Heart Society would ask me to embrace diversity, and adopt a fervent "Love Thy Loonie" philosophy. And I do love MY inner loonie - the one that falls over patterns on carpets, smacks people out with mad arm gesticulations in shops, and the one that can't remember anyone's name (ie. "hey you, woman with hat" or "pass me that thingy").


And no, I don't know what the point of this post is either. All I know is, keep the weirdos away from me, and have compassion for loonies - get behind them in the queue and just be patient. They are people too.


To loonies and weirdos everywhere - have a great weekend!