Desperate English Housewife in Washington, chapter 18

Popping out

I realise that in 6 days’ time I will no longer to ‘pop out’. Therefore, I am popping out all the time.

Popping out for some milk. A short pop out/stroll.

Popping out to the restaurant for lunch. A lovely pop out.

Popping out for the sake of popping out. A luxury pop out.

Believe me, popping out is very much underrated. Do not underestimate the joy of popping out. Where I am going I think I shall miss the phenomenon that is popping out.

If you are able to pop out anywhere, do it now. Tweet about it. Love #poppingout.

Another language

I phoned Dulles Airport, Washington yesterday to enquire, in my best British accent, about the process of picking up my cats at the other end.

Oh my days (note usage of new, trendy phrase), what the hell are they saying?

It was like a foreign language. It was spoken in broad, nasally, disaffected East coast garbled stylie and with no breath between words, incorporating Baltimore/The Wire type slang. I could not understand a bloody word.

You can only say “Pardon?” to someone three times before a) you get the giggles and b) they get pissed off with you and pass you on to someone of medium-nasal capacity.

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